#1 Muse

by T Gephart

  The rest of the dinner was great, and I even managed a few laughs here and there. It might not have changed anything, but I felt good to be able to forget for a little while.

  The problem with forgetting was, when that inevitable memory returned, it wasn’t any less painful.

  I was contemplating dessert—it was a coin toss between the crème caramel and the chocolate gateau—when Nick Larsson strolled into the bistro. The eatery I’d been so impressed by up till a minute ago, had now been sullied beyond repair. And I also definitely needed the chocolate gateau, because caramel wasn’t capable of curing a heartache.

  He wasn’t alone either, flanked by Jeremy, Dave and another guy who was blond and bore a family resemblance—obviously related. What did you call a pack of Larssons? A crew? A mob? A pride? Yes, pride sounded about right, let’s go with that.

  The pride of Larssons—and Jeremy—moved to their seats with seductive efficiency. The three of them together bent the laws of physics with their ridiculous beauty, I had to almost turn away so I wasn’t blinded by their good looks. Thankfully I was able to focus on Jeremy, who wasn’t a Larsson and therefore not genetically blessed, saving my eyes from the all-out slaughter that would have befallen them should I have gazed upon the pride.

  It was also conceivable that I wasn’t as sober as I thought, but I was too busy with inner commentary to worry about that.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath, wondering if I should hide behind a menu and hope he didn’t see me, or keep staring at him like a loser . . . and hope he didn’t see me. Either way it was clear I didn’t want to be seen.

  “You want to leave?” Tyler asked, following my line of sight and spotting the pride. “I can drive you home and then Luke can come back and get your car.”

  That had been the plan when I’d decided to finish the bottle of wine all on my own. Tyler would drive me home, then pick up Luke to collect my car, thus giving them an excuse to be together in a confined space to talk and give me the opportunity to celebrate—or forget—a little. Everyone got something out of it, and the good mood that had started with dinner would hopefully continue so I didn’t feel so empty when I went to bed that night.

  But life—that cruel, cruel bastard—decided that my plans weren’t worth shit, throwing a pride of Larssons at me like I was a wounded hyena.

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Oh, it was not anywhere close to fine. “They probably won’t even notice us. Let’s just ignore them and order dessert like we’d planned.” That would also give me the opportunity to investigate, find out if their congregating was for the purposes of good or evil.

  So. Should. Not. Have. Drank. That. Wine.

  I could see from his face that Tyler didn’t agree, short of throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me out, there wasn’t a lot he could do to convince me otherwise.

  Tyler glanced over at the table, the four men sitting down and looking at their menus. “Huh, that’s Roman Pierce. An amazing attorney but has a tendency to be a massive dick.”

  “Oh, so that’s Roman.” I narrowed my eyes having difficulty trying to focus. “Well that would make sense, it’s a family trait.”

  Being big dicks.

  Having big dicks.

  No, that wasn’t what I meant. It was definitely being. They were big, huge, massive dicks. Of which I wanted no part.

  None.

  “Roman is related?”

  I wasn’t sure how well Tyler knew Roman—or why he had a different last name—but he was definitely one of them. If not for the obvious good-looking Larsson pride features, there was the matter of the big dick. Of which we’d already established . . . shit, I’d lost my train of thought. What was I say—

  “Claire, I think we’ve been spotted.”

  “Shit.”

  My head snapped up to four pairs of eyes looking directly at me. Jeremy, Roman, Dave and Nick, all with their menus down and their gazes locked on our table.

  “Why did it have to be tonight?” I cursed under my breath. I was having fun, trying to forget him, and the minute I’d lowered my defenses—bam, there he was. Now I had lowered defenses, no chocolate gateau and a future full of trouble.

  Tyler stood, reaching for his wallet and pulling out some cash. “Come on, Claire, let’s go.”

  You know what? He was right; it was time to go.

  It took most of my effort but I managed to stand without looking like a ragdoll. My feet worked just fine, keeping me steady as Tyler walked around and offered me his arm. Such a nice guy. He and Luke were going to be so happy together when I eventually got home so they could hurry up and fall in love. But that would have to wait a minute, my feet taking steps toward the table instead of toward the door.

  “Claire. This is not a good idea.” Tyler followed me, continuing to be a gentleman and putting his arm around my waist. It sure made the walking easier, so kudos to him for that.

  His advice was probably solid and should have been heeded, so it was a pity that it was ignored. Instead, I strode forward, my smile widening as I reached the edge of the Larsson pride—and Jeremy—at their table. “Hello gentlemen, how nice to see you.” Each word was delivered so clean and precise that I was seriously impressed.

  “You must be Roman.” I continued my excellent run, turning to the blond good-looking one I hadn’t met before and held out my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you but haven’t had the pleasure to meet you.”

  Roman’s eyes dropped to my hand, a smug grin spreading across his lips as he glanced at Nick and then stood. “And you must be Claire. Trust me when I tell you, the pleasure is all mine.” His words delivered with a throaty chuckle.

  “Fuck,” I heard Dave mutter under his breath, shaking his head and trying to suppress the grin as he stood. “Hey, Claire.”

  I said hello to Dave while continuing to ignore Nick. His focus hadn’t moved for a second, his gaze on me so intense that I could feel the heat of his stare burning my skin like a laser.

  “Let me get some more chairs.” Roman flagged a waiter, still wearing his smug Larsson grin. He reached down to where his brother was sitting, smacking him playfully at the back of the head. “Nick, where are your manners? Say hello to Claire.”

  Nick stood, his eyes following the lines of my body and the male arm around it. “Claire.”

  “Nick.”

  Our names tossed at each other like grenades as our gazes locked. Maybe it was petty, walking up to him when I hadn’t returned his calls, but I was too mad, still hurt and too wine’d to stop. Besides, no man—famous or not—was going to make me feel like I had to hide in a corner like that redhead in “Sixteen Candles.” She had a problem with paperwork falling into the wrong hands too if I remembered correctly. In any case, I wasn’t backing down, the tension so thick you could have parted the air like a curtain.

  Tyler—the sweetheart, man I hoped he and Luke got married—tucked me closer to his body, as he waved Roman off. “We don’t need chairs, we were about to leave.”

  “I won’t hear of it.” Roman grinned, holding out his hand. “Tyler Woods, right? You worked the DeNezza case, I’ve heard good things.”

  Showing he had incredible dexterity—Luke was going to be a lucky man—Tyler shook Roman’s hand while keeping the other wrapped around me. “Yeah, thanks Roman. Similarly heard good things about you.”

  I didn’t care what they were talking about, too busy staring down Nick and making sure I wasn’t the first person to blink. I hoped he did soon though, because my left eye was starting to twitch, and I didn’t want him to wrongly believe I was flirting with him. Because I wasn’t. The dick.

  Jeremy, who’d remained silent up to that point, decided he needed some skin in the game, rose to his feet as he patted his client—well one of them—on the shoulder. “Why don’t we all take a seat? Wow, did it get chilly in here.” He laughed. “Nick, Tyler is Claire’s attorney.” In what I’m sure was an effort to get him to stand down.

  Ha, good luck, buddy!
r />   “Nice suit.” Nick’s jaw tensed, tipping his chin to Tyler. “I’m Nick.”

  “I’m Tyler.” He returned the chin tip and then turned to me. “You want to stay?”

  That was his way of subtly telling me it was time to leave without telling me what I had to do. Because Tyler—unlike Nick—communicated. But as happy as I was to take Tyler’s suggestion under advisement, we would not be leaving. I felt empowered, strengthened by the resolve to hold my head up high—possibly with the benefit of alcohol—and told him what a jerk I thought he was.

  “I think we’ll stay.” I smiled, accepting the seat the waiter had brought over. “Thank you so much for the invitation, Roman.”

  “Anytime, Claire,” his smile beaming.

  Tyler sat beside me, squeezing my waist as he settled. He might not be happy about our change in plans, but he wasn’t leaving a fallen soldier behind.

  Jeremy clapped his hands together in an effort to call us to attention. “So, what’s everyone drinking? I’ll buy the next round.”

  “Nothing for us thanks. We just finished dinner—”

  “Actually,” I cut Tyler off before he was able to finish. “We should order champagne to celebrate. To acknowledge and honor mine and Nick’s shared success.”

  Nick’s body tensed, his eyes hadn’t left me since I’d walked up to the table and while I had no idea what was going on in his mind, I was pretty sure I was taking up some sizeable room in his headspace.

  Good.

  “Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves, contract hasn’t been finalized yet.” Jeremy laughed nervously. “But, yeah, let’s get some champagne.” He flagged a waiter and ordered something I hoped was expensive.

  “So Roman, did Nick tell you about his amazing new upcoming role?” I ignored Nick and his staring competition. “It’s fantastic, going to be such a good career move for him.” I mean, I should know considering I wrote the damn thing.

  Roman tilted his head, giving me his full attention. “Well, yes I think he mentioned something about it. But I’d love for you to tell me more.”

  “Roman, don’t,” Nick bit out, murderous sight daggers thrown at his brother.

  “Claire, it’s been a while,” Dave added, no doubt trying to play mediator. “How’s Scully and the baby?”

  Oh, nice try at deflection.

  Not today, Dave.

  Not.

  Today.

  My cheeks hurt as my smile widened, positive I was in danger of pulling a muscle in my face, but I didn’t care. “Scully and Sebastian are doing great, thank you so much for asking. You should come and visit, maybe then she can give you something else of mine to read. I know how fond you guys are of my work.”

  “Claire, let’s go talk.” Nick shot out of his seat and was beside me in an instant. It was impressive—his fancy feet moving so quickly—not sure I could have managed the chair-to-Claire maneuver so seamlessly.

  I waved him off, not having anything to do with his attempt to silence me. Was he embarrassed? Good, he should be. “Oh Nick, but we haven’t even gotten to the champagne yet. And I’m happy, sitting down and chatting with your brothers. Not so much you, Jeremy, because well, I’m not your biggest fan. No offense.” I turned and smiled at Jeremy.

  He held up his hands and laughed. “None taken.”

  Nick’s body was dangerously close to mine, his sexy scent lingering in the air like an evil seductive elixir. “Claire.” His hand moved inches from my arm.

  “Don’t even think of touching me,” I breathed into his face as I jumped to my feet. “Do. Not.”

  I wasn’t quiet about it, diners turning around to see what the commotion was about, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to allow him to put his hands anywhere near me. And not only because I was angry, but because I was also confused and didn’t need lines blurred where I might kiss him. Because I was mad. And I wanted to kiss him. So he could not touch me.

  His hand dropped, but he didn’t move away, refusing to give my body and my mind a reprieve from his sexiness. I hated that I still thought he was sexy, probably why I’d been avoiding him.

  “Okay, but please let me talk to you. Please.” His eyes softened, and if I didn’t know what such a skilled actor he was, I might have bought the sentiment. Begging was a nice touch. But, no, I was smarter than that.

  “Claire, I need to tell—”

  “I don’t care what you need to tell me.” I sneered at him, inadvertently putting my face closer.

  So close.

  I pulled back, taking my lips away from the temptation of kissing him as I tried to look away. “I want to celebrate. I sold my first script.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “I know it’s not really a script, but I’m going to be grateful.”

  “I’m not doing it.” The words shot out of his mouth like bullets, stunning me to silence. “The fucking series. I’m passing on it.”

  “What?” I asked confused. It was only a few hours ago I’d been in Jeremy’s office discussing the series that he was now saying he was passing on.

  “I said I’m going to pass. I wanted to talk to you, to tell you how sorry I was about this whole fucking thing.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t use you, but I screwed up and I should have told you the truth the minute I knew, regardless of the NDA.”

  “Nick, take a seat.” Jeremy laughed nervously, standing up and patting Nick on the shoulder. “Everyone is a little emotional now, so let’s not make any hasty decisions.”

  The softness in Nick’s eyes was gone as he looked at Jeremy. “No, fuck that. I said I was out and I’m out. Your intervention with Dave and Roman isn’t going to work, you know why? Because I’m a man and I own up to my mistakes. And this was one of them.” He turned back to me. “I love you, Claire. I’m sorry, and I will keep saying it even if you don’t want to hear it. And I’m not going to do something that will remind me for the rest of my life how I lost the girl of my dreams.”

  Well . . . fuck.

  I couldn’t breathe, my lungs froze as everyone’s eyes landed on me. He’d said exactly the words I’d wanted to hear, and yet I couldn’t answer him. I loved him, wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him like the end of all those cheesy 80’s movies. I mean, as far as grand gestures went, this one was pretty big. But I couldn’t, not wanting to be the girl who made up with a guy just because he said sorry.

  “Goddamn you, Nick.” Lust, love, anger, hurt, confusion and passion swirled through my head as I tried to decide if it was the most epic romantic thing anyone had ever done for me or it was simply plain dumb. “Couldn’t you have just stood on my lawn with a boom box?”

  “What?” It was his turn to be confused as he shook his head.

  Man, I was pissed. So annoyed at him, and me, and the world. “I don’t want you to give up the role. It’s you. Who else is going to play it? I don’t want some asshole who can’t do you properly, to play you and mess it up. That’s just going to make me look bad. And another thing.” I held up my hand. “You aren’t doing me any favors by turning it down. It will get tossed in the trash and forgotten about, and I won’t get to see you play the you I wrote, even if someone else changes the you a little.”

  There was silence. If the entire bistro hadn’t been looking at us before, they sure as hell were now. No one moved, not even the wait staff, as they watched a real-life episode of “Nick and Claire” right in front of them.

  “You want me to do it?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, almost as if I was the only one he’d intended to hear it.

  I nodded, hating that I couldn’t just hug and kiss him and tell him it was all going to be forgotten. I couldn’t do that. He’d hurt me. I couldn’t take him back right now even if he was adorable and loveable and it almost hurt more not to hold him. “Yes, I want you to do it.”

  “Claire.” His hand reached out, hovering near my face, seeking permission.

  I just couldn’t give it.

  As desperately as I wanted to, I couldn
’t have him touch me right now.

  “Bye, Nick.” I hated the words, knowing it was both the right and wrong thing to do.

  “Tyler, I’d like to go home.”

  NICK HAD TRIED TO STOP me from leaving, begging me to just talk to him. But the closing credits were running on the current Nick and Claire episode, and the script for the next one hadn’t been written yet.

  So as hard as it was, I turned my back and walked out of the bistro with Tyler, wondering if “goodbye” was the last word we would ever speak.

  “For the record, the way you handled yourself in there was pretty badass.” Tyler reached across and gave my arm a squeeze. “You sure you don’t want to consider a career in law? I could use someone like you in the courtroom.”

  I laughed, staring out the windshield as we drove. “Funny, I don’t feel badass.”

  We arrived at home and I walked silently up to my front door. Tyler had already texted Luke to let him know his driving services were required so I handed over my keys, wanting only to go inside.

  “Tell him how you feel, okay,” I warned, grabbing Tyler’s arm before opening the door. “Don’t assume he knows or wouldn’t want to know. Give him the information and respect him to make the choice for himself.”

  Tyler nodded, leaning over and giving me a hug. “You are an amazing woman, Claire Becker. I’m looking forward to all the contracts we’re going to negotiate together in the future.”

  I wanted to tell him not to get his hopes up, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood. Instead I smiled, opening the door so that maybe he could get started on his happily ever after. Maybe I was just better at writing someone’s story, rather than my own.

  Scully and Sebastian were sleeping so at least I was spared having to relive it all, well at least until the morning. Instead I went into my room and took off my clothes, shuffling under my covers even though I knew I probably wouldn’t sleep.