by BETH KERY
Megan was vaguely aware that Emilio had just introduced the band and that people were applauding. It didn’t stop her from letting her head fall back against Christian’s shoulder, from staring up into his heated gaze. Her mouth was moving to meet his halfway when someone spoke.
“Sorry, Lasher, but there’s no where else to sit. I figured it was better to interrupt now than in another thirty seconds, by the looks of how things were progressing. Emilio just shoved this bottle of wine in my hand and waved in your general direction. Famous hospitality. No wonder this place is such a dive,” a tall, imposing man muttered in a low-pitched grumble out of respect for the band that had just begun their set. He didn’t seem to mind Christian’s irritated scowl or Megan’s look of discomposure as she sat up straighter, knocking Christian’s arm from beneath her breasts.
The man set down the bottle of wine and then unlaced the stems of three glasses from his large, but surprisingly elegant looking fingers. She reached across the table and took his hand when he offered it.
“You must be the reason Christian has been so grouchy for the past few days,” he said in a deadpan tone.
She glanced at Christian. “I don’t think I can take responsibility for that,” she replied, feeling a little bewildered at the suggestion that she had the power to alter Christian’s moods. “I’m Megan Shreve. You must be Seth. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Seth surprised her by smiling. She stared at the difference it made in a face so rugged and hard, it looked like it had been carved from rock. The artist in her was fascinated by sharp contrasts in his visage. One second, he was cold, untouchable, too intimidating to be considered attractive. Then he smiled, and Megan realized with amazement that he wasn’t only handsome; Seth was gorgeous.
“If your source was Emilio, it’s all a damned pack of lies. I doubt your source was Christian, because he’s too jealous of me to talk about me much.”
Christian snorted in mild derision and picked up the wine bottle to pour. “I didn’t say much about you because I assumed you’d have a mouthful to say about yourself once you got here.” He handed Megan her wine politely before he shoved a filled glass over to Seth. Megan saw amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “Now, shut up about yourself and listen to the band for two seconds. It’s why I asked you out here early, and Shavac is about to have a go at it.”
Megan took a swallow of wine and blinked. Her glance over at Christian was quick and speculative. She didn’t want to admit how appealing it was too her that he had such a rough, untamed exterior and at the same time knew as much about fine wine as he did Walt Whitman. She’d never tasted wine so rich…or so potent.
She supposed that Shavac was the guitar player, because he was the main focus of the arrangement for the next few minutes. Megan was no judge of music, and she didn’t know anything about the blues, but she would have had to have been plain stupid not to appreciate the skill of the electric guitarist or the way the moody, mournful notes he created with such ease bypassed her verbal level of understanding and went straight to the heart of melancholy and longing.
“Well?” Christian prompted Seth after several songs.
Seth remained immobile, seemingly deep in thought. Megan understood that Christian was asking his friend’s opinion, but she couldn’t comprehend the amount of tension seething beneath the one word question. Why was Seth’s opinion about the blues guitarist’s performance so important? Unknowingly, her eyes turned anxiously to Seth’s stark profile.
“You’re right,” Seth finally said without an ounce of inflection. “But you know my style is completely different—“
“I can make it work. We can make it work. Just give it a chance,” Christian said.
Seth turned back to face them as a new set began. His gaze locked with Christian’s for a tense moment before he gave a small shrug.
“If you say so, I’ll trust your word. God knows I’ve put my faith in you before and it’s always worked out.”
A broad smile broke over Christian’s face.
Seth’s dark eyes briefly settled on Megan, and then flashed enigmatically at Christian. Christian turned to her, a concerned expression on his face. She was surprised when he brushed a tear off her cheek tenderly.
“Why are you crying, honey?” he asked, clearly bewildered.
Megan raised her hand to her cheek in equal amazement. “I-I didn’t know I was. I guess it was the music,” she said lamely. She swallowed down embarrassment as both men continued to study her with puzzled concern.
Had it been the music? She had been moved by it, but she honestly couldn’t say if it was that, or the unspoken undercurrents of emotion between Christian and Seth that had created her reaction. She licked her lips nervously. “I, uh, need to use the lady’s room.”
Christian stopped her with a firm hold on her upper arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He finally let her go when she laughed and nodded her assurance, but he still looked doubtful.
Megan stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and mentally asked her reflection why she had reacted so strangely. Something about the two men’s communication in those moments—both spoken and unspoken—had moved her. Seth and Christian were obviously very close.
She’d washed away the remnants of her tears, but her cheeks were still flushed. Probably from the wine, she reasoned. Even though she’d only had three or four sips of it, that stuff was strong.
She felt calmer when she returned to the table. Harvest Moon had just finished up a set and announced that they were taking a brief break. Megan hesitated, and then walked staunchly forward when she realized that Emilio was sitting at the table, and that the three large men were in deep conversation. Emilio stopped talking abruptly when he saw her approach and a guilty expression flitted across his rounded features. Megan could well have believed Seth’s utterance of a moment ago when she took in the appearance of the other two men. Christian and Seth may not be blood brothers, but their deadpan expressions were identical when they looked up at her.
Irritation and embarrassment flickered through her. Christian really needed to work on his poker face. It was obvious they’d just been talking about something secretive before she arrived.
Emilio patted her forearm kindly as he rose to make a place for her. “Now, don’t you worry, Miss Megan. The blues are mighty powerful stuff. If you sat through that first set and grinned like a clueless airhead, I’d be downright worried about you. Yes ma’am.”
Megan’s irritation evaporated when Emilio took her hand in his oversized grip and squeezed. She smiled when she looked into his grizzled countenance. His big eyes widened and he shook his head with exaggerated befuddlement.
“Lordy be, Chris. Where’d you find this girl? She’s packing some powerful stuff herself, but you’re probably too stupid to know it. If this clod treats you badly, you know where to find me, Miss Megan. I know how to treat a lady like she should be treated.” Emilio kissed her once on the hand gallantly before he left.
Megan was still grinning when she scooted into the booth. “What?” she asked when she took in Christian, who watched her with puzzled fascination, his chin resting in his palm.“He’s a character, isn’t he? Does Emilio pull this stuff with the ladies a lot, or only when the mood strikes him?” she wondered idly as she took a sip of wine.
Christian also took a lazy drink as well, still studying her. “Never.”
“Never, what?”
“Emilio’s never acted like that with a woman.”
“Maybe he did with his wife, but she died years ago,” Seth mused.
Christian gave a conciliatory shrug. Megan studied both of their serious expressions and scoffed. “Very funny. And don’t think you’re going to sidetrack me, Christian.” Her level stare was as firm as her words. “What were you two talking about before? You’re a musician?” she asked Seth pointedly. “And what have you got to do with it, Christian?”
Seth looked amused. “I play the guitar. I told you Christ
ian was jealous. You didn’t tell her a thing about me, did you?” The black-haired man leaned toward his friend. A rare smile begged to escape his mouth.
Christian rolled his eyes. Before he could get off a cutting remark, Emilio’s voice boomed from the mike.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a very special treat for you tonight. Seth Down has agreed to perform with the other members of Harvest Moon. I guess I don’t need to promote Seth too much. His work speaks for itself. Suffice it to say, that I think Seth is one of the most talented guitarists alive on the planet, and he certainly tops a good portion of the great guitarists who have passed, bless their graced souls.”
Christian and Seth shared a brief glance, and Megan thought she heard Christian mutter under his breath, “The old man is full of surprises tonight.”
“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome Seth Down.” Enthusiastic applause broke out, becoming louder when Seth stood up and unhurriedly removed his jacket.
“Alone?” was the only thing Seth muttered tautly to Christian before he loped up onto the stage and shook the hands of the other band members who filed out onto the stage.
Megan saw the way Christian’s face tensed slightly at Seth’s one-word query.
“Christian?”
He glanced at her, and Megan sensed his conflict. She was reminded of the way he’d looked last Saturday afternoon when he’d talked about betraying someone that he cared about. “What did Seth mean? He seemed like…he needed you…”
Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
For a moment, their gazes locked. Almost in the same movement, he took her hand in his, held onto her tight, and faced Emilio. Megan shouldn’t have been surprised when she realized that Emilio seemed to be pausing in his commentary as he expectantly watched Christian. Emilio turned and spoke discreetly to the lead singer of the group, who nodded and saluted Christian before he left the stage.
“Well, we’ve got an extra treat for you all tonight. You all are probably familiar with Chris, over there,” Emilio waved over at the booth where Christian and Megan sat. “He’s been coming to my club since before he graduated from high school, but if there’s a Chicago cop out there, I can only say that I busted him as soon as I knew the truth. Damn hellion, he was,” Emilio muttered fondly.
Laughter and the general excited buzz of conversation enlivened the audience at Emilio’s words. Megan saw that almost every face in the club was turned toward their booth. She glanced over at Christian in dawning amazement. He slumped back into the booth, his face covered in shadow.
“Sometimes the lines that separate categories of music get fuzzy, and Chris has always been at the forefront of pushing those boundaries. You’re about to hear one of his less popular songs, but if you were familiar with his work, you’d know it’s one of his best. Maybe he’s not what you’d expect at Emilio’s, but trust me, along with Seth here, and the rest of this fine band, you’re about to hear one of the most unforgettable performances you’ll every experience. Oh, and tell your kids to eat their heart out. My nineteen-year-old daughter, Amy, is going to give me the true blues when she hears that I didn’t tell her about this.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Chris Lasher, Seth Down and Harvest Moon.”
Chapter 4
Christian’s hand hadn’t moved from hers until that announcement. When it came he surprised her by kissing her knuckles before he placed her palm gently on the table. Despite her gradual understanding, Megan still felt disoriented when he left the booth. She watched as he walked to the stage with that loose-hipped, confident saunter that had already become so endearing to her. The applause from the audience was thunderous. She wondered how she could have begun to learn the details of his features so well, the way he moved his body with insouciant male grace, his idiosyncratic gestures, and the nuances of his expression—and yet really know nothing about him at all.
He spoke quietly to the three remaining members of Harvest Moon while Seth idly strummed the electric guitar and made a few adjustments to it. After a moment, the drummer, saxophonist, and bass player nodded their heads in agreement and Christian moved over to the microphone. When he cradled it with both hands, Megan immediately knew that the gesture was natural to him, a movement he’d done hundreds of thousands of times before.
“This is a song called Settling Debts that I wrote a couple years ago. Hope you enjoy it.” Christian spoke into the microphone in a low, easy-going rumble. He counted softly and Seth started playing, followed by the drummer.
Megan was amazed at the diversity, clarity, and complexity of sounds that Seth almost casually coaxed from the instrument. Christian held the microphone in his right hand, but his body was turned toward the band during the introduction. Then he faced the audience and began to sing, and Megan knew for the first time what he’d been born to do.
How could she not have realized that the singular quality of his voice marked him as a singer? It was resonant and rich. The control that he had over his range was so complete that he effortlessly made his voice the most finely tuned instrument in the band. The husky quality of it only added to the earthy, sensual aura of the music.
His eyelids were partially closed and his long legs were bent slightly at the knee to accommodate his height to the microphone, which he hadn’t removed from its stand. When Seth launched into a powerful, mournful guitar solo, Christian kept his hands on the microphone, but averted his face by looking down. Megan could tell by the way he kept time with his right foot and by his intense, focused profile that he was utterly wrapped up in the music.
When Christian sang the final refrain, some of his boundless passion broke free. The swelling music and raw, yet poetic lyrics created a tight sensation in her chest and throat. She swallowed thickly in an attempt to alleviate the ache.
He seduced her with his voice as easily as he had with his hands and mouth. The entire audience was at Christian’s mercy.
When the final melancholy cord had been struck, a few seconds of stunned, respectful silence ensued before the audience exploded with cheers and thunderous applause. Christian straightened and his eyes fluttered open. He’d been so lost in the music that he seemed vaguely surprised that a hundred plus people had been listening.
He smiled, slow and dazzling.
God, did he have any inkling of how happy he looked at that moment…or how beautiful it made him?
Before she knew what was happening, Seth and Christian had left the stage to continued loud applause. Christian slid into the booth next to her. Megan vaguely noticed that Seth winked at her once before he passed the booth and headed to the back of the club, but most of her focus was taken up by Christian.
“Did you like it?” he asked after an awkward pause.
She shook her head, knowing her words couldn’t describe the effect his song had on her.
“It was amazing. Why in the world didn’t you tell me you were a singer?”
He shrugged and took a sip of wine. Megan watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. The subtle movement struck her as potently sexual. Even though he’d only been up on the stage less than ten minutes, his long hair was slightly damp at his nape. Megan realized that the lights must get really warm where Christian stood.
“I didn’t think you’d be that interested,” he said in a manner that struck her as casual, but forced at once. “I saw your music collection. Soft rock, classical, a little jazz.”
“That’s stupid, and you know it. Of course I would be interested. I’m never going to forgive you. I almost had a heart attack when I saw you walk up on that stage just as calmly as if you were buying aspirin at the drug store. And you lied to me. You said you were a writer.”
He leaned back and grinned when he saw her wrathful stare.
“I didn’t lie. I am a writer—of music and lyrics. It’s what I most identify in doing.”
Megan dismissed him with a disdainful up-tilt of her chin. She was a little hurt by the fact that he’d left her in the dark about something that was obvious
ly such an integral part of him. “You know perfectly well that you misled me, Christian.”
She did a double take when she glanced over at him. Her anger seeped out of her. How could she be mad at him after the experience he’d just given her?
“I can’t believe how talented you are,” she whispered. “Are you…famous or something? It seems like I was the only person in here that didn’t know what you do.”
“I guess some people here recognize me from some of my other work.”
“What other work?”
“Look who I found,” Seth said, interrupting them.
A stunning young biracial woman wearing a waitress’s apron scooted into the booth in front of Seth.
“Hey, Sarah,” Christian greeted warmly. They exchanged a quick kiss. He introduced her to Megan as Seth put his arm across the young woman’s shoulder. “Megan Shreve, meet Sarah Jackson. She’s Emilio’s oldest daughter.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Megan,” Sarah said with a warm smile. “Chris, believe it or not, Dad said I could take a nice long break and sit out here and chat with you guys.”
Christian chuckled when his gaze met Seth’s. The only change in Seth’s stony expression consisted of a slight rise of his dark brows before he bent down close to Sarah’s upturned face to say something privately.
Christian sounded amused when he whispered in Megan’s ear. “I thought for sure it would be a bottle of rare brandy, but if Emilio willingly let his daughter fraternize with ‘the savage’, Seth has been more than just forgiven.”
* * * *
Christian admired Megan’s profile as she rested her head on the backseat of the cab. Things had been a little tense back at Emilio’s for a while. He hadn’t planned on performing with Vic or Harvest Moon because he hadn’t really wanted to broach the subject of his career with Megan yet. He planned to eventually, of course.
Truth was, he was hoping to have a chance to finagle his way into her life a little more before she fully understood what he did for a living. A voice in his head kept warning him that he should just go ahead and spill the truth.
