by Gina Wilkins
He and Dani had both changed from the casual jeans and sweaters they’d worn for sightseeing. He’d donned a pair of gray slacks and a black shirt, while Dani now wore a vivid red sweater with a deep scoop neckline and black pants with sky-high stiletto-heeled boots. Clubbing clothes. Had she brought them along in case an occasion like this would crop up, or had she raided her sister’s closet? Either way, she looked fantastic in them. So good that he was having trouble looking anywhere else.
She led him straight to a big table on one side of the room—a cluster of tables, actually, all pulled together to allow the rowdy group of perhaps ten people occupying them to see each other. It looked as though these were regulars, and that Dani knew all of them, judging from the way she was greeted with squeals and hugs and a few enthusiastic male kisses that made Teague’s eyebrows draw down.
She introduced him with a careless wave of her hand, and two chairs magically appeared for them. Teague gave a drink order to a server, and saw Dani do the same, though he couldn’t hear what she requested. Several of the people around them had nachos and fajitas spread in front of them, but neither Dani nor Teague wanted anything more to eat.
“So, Tim,” some guy Teague thought was named Len, but could be Glen, asked over the noise, “you dating Dani?”
“It’s Teague. And no,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d arrived in Georgia, “Dani and I are just friends.”
“Huh. So, you work together or something back in—where is it she lives now?”
“Little Rock. And no, we don’t work together. We live in the same apartment building.”
“Cool. So, uh—” The guy was obviously trying to be nice to the newcomer, but not very good at coming up with small talk. “What do you do back in Little Rock?”
He’d been known to make up something, just to avoid the fallout of admitting what he really did. This time he braced himself and answered honestly—mostly because he wanted to see how Dani’s friends reacted. “I’m with the FBI.”
“Dude. Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Teague accepted his drink from the returned server with a smile of thanks, then glanced back at Len/Glen. “What about you?”
“Oh, I work at Computer Kingdom selling mobile phone service. But, seriously, Tim, you work for the FBI? Are you, like, an office worker or something? Or are you really an agent?”
“I’m an agent.” Teague realized the group around him had suddenly gone quiet, listening to his conversation with the younger man. He glanced at Dani, who was sipping her white wine and studying him over the rim of her glass as if to let him know he was on his own with this topic.
“You’re an FBI agent?” Andrea, the woman he’d met earlier, asked, looking wide-eyed from Teague to Dani and back again. “Dani, why didn’t you tell me? That’s so exciting.”
Teague was accustomed to people reacting in varying ways when they learned of his job. Some were intimidated, some fascinated, wanting to know if his life was like the version of the FBI seen on TV or in films. There were always a few, of course, who didn’t like anyone in law enforcement, seeing them as symbols of authority or oppression. He didn’t see anyone among Dani’s friends who had real issues with his job, at least not that they allowed to show.
He fielded quite a few questions, some insightful, some just dumb, and then was relieved when Andrea grew bored and loudly changed the subject to something about herself.
“You could have told them you’re an accountant or something,” Dani murmured, leaning closer to him for a moment.
“Don’t think I haven’t used that very lie before,” he said in return, his mouth close to her ear.
She laughed. “You say that to make yourself sound less interesting. I wonder how many accountants have claimed to be FBI agents to make themselves seem more interesting.”
“Actually, I’ve known some pretty interesting accountants,” he murmured. “I’ve got one accountant friend who could probably take on this whole crowd with one hand and drink coffee with the other. He’s got black belts in several martial arts disciplines, a couple I’ve never even heard of.”
“So much for stereotyping, right?”
“Right. The band’s good. Have you heard them before?”
Something passed quickly over her face before she nodded and said, “Yes, lots of times.”
Okay, what had that been? He replayed the fleeting expression in his mind a few times while she turned to answer a question from one of her friends, but he wasn’t able to come up with an interpretation. Studying the deliberately scruffy-looking young men on the stage, he wondered if maybe Dani had dated one of them. There was obviously a connection she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge just yet.
He found out when the band took a break. Letting recorded music keep the club from falling into the sort of silence that made management worry about spirits—and drink orders—falling, the four musicians stepped off the stage, the lead singer heading straight for where Dani’s friends gathered. A tall, skinny guy in his mid-to late twenties, he wore his blond-streaked brown hair shaggy to the shoulders of the open-front black shirt he wore with tight black pants. No one would call him good-looking, with his prominent nose and acne-scarred skin, but Teague supposed there was a moody air about him that some women would find appealing.
He wondered if Dani was one of those women when the singer grabbed her, pulled her out of her chair and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. Watching as she returned the embrace, Teague felt his right hand clench on his knee. Rather surprised by how tightly he had drawn the fist, he made a deliberate effort to relax it before anyone noticed. He found it much harder than he might have anticipated to stay in his seat and try to look only casually amused that the singer’s hands were all over Dani—the woman Teague claimed was only a friend.
Chapter Nine
“Man, it is good to see you,” the singer gushed when he finally released Dani. “Tell me you’ve moved back home.”
“I’m just here for the holidays,” she replied. “The band is sounding really good tonight, Chris. How’s everything going?”
“Great. We’ve got some pretty good gigs coming up. Got a new CD almost finished. Had some real promising nibbles from a couple of promoters.”
“Didn’t I tell you it was only a matter of time?” she said with a big smile. “Discordant is going to be big, you just wait and see.”
Discordant? Was that the name of the band or one of their songs? Though Teague wasn’t as interested in the answer to that question as he was in wondering when Chris was going to take his hand off Dani’s butt.
“You’re going to sing with us, right?” Chris insisted, bringing Teague’s attention back to what was being said. “A couple of numbers, at least.”
“No,” Dani said firmly. “Not tonight. I’m just here to listen.”
Several of her friends protested loudly, demanding that Dani entertain them with a song or two. Apparently, she had once been a regular performer here, Teague surmised, feeling another piece of the puzzle that was Dani click into place.
She looked quickly at him, her expression both apologetic and a bit chagrined. She seemed to be trying to think of a good reason to leave without giving in to her friends’ request, maybe hoping he would supply a quick excuse.
He gave her a bland smile. “I would love to hear you sing,” he said, adding his vote. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a karaoke bar.”
A few indrawn breaths hissed in response to his words. The way everyone acted, he might as well have insulted her mama as to compare her to a karaoke singer. Dani herself drew herself up to her full height, her navy-blue eyes glittering, and turned to Chris. “One number,” she said, her voice clipped.
Though Teague knew he was going to pay for his wickedly impulsive comment later, he couldn’t help grinning.
“You are so in trouble,” Glen—or was it Len?—muttered when Chris towed Dani away. “There’s nothing Dani hates worse than being compared to a karaoke singer.�
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Teague chuckled. “Yeah, I kind of thought she might.”
“So you just like to tick her off, I guess?”
Laughing, Teague remembered the way he’d gotten Dani to bring him here tonight by basically challenging her courage. “Apparently, I do. I think it’s mutual, though,” he added, frowning as he saw that Dani was now kissing another member of the band.
“You have heard her sing, haven’t you?” Andrea asked, sliding into the seat next to Teague that Dani had just vacated.
“No, I haven’t had that pleasure.”
“So you really don’t know her all that well.”
“Like I said, we’re just casual friends.”
“And yet you came with her to her family’s Thanksgiving?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have anyplace else to go. No family of my own.”
Her expression turned exaggeratedly sympathetic. She was an attractive woman—primarily because of her skill with makeup and clothing selections—but Teague had very little reaction when she rested a hand on his thigh. “That’s so sad,” she murmured, leaning just a little closer to him. “I’m glad you could join us here tonight.”
“Yes, so am I,” he murmured, watching as Dani climbed onto the stage. Around the club several people applauded, signifying that they recognized her and were pleased at the prospect of hearing her sing again.
“I don’t suppose you get to Atlanta very often on your own?”
“Um, no,” he said, still watching Dani. “I’ve never actually been to Atlanta before.”
“Oh. Well, if you ever want a personally guided tour…”
He glanced at Andrea’s warm smile, thinking that he was an idiot. Here was exactly the type of woman he’d been thinking he needed lately—attractive, fun, available, probably not looking for anything permanent any more than he was. And yet, he couldn’t look away from Dani, who couldn’t be more opposite to what he needed in his life at this point.
Andrea seemed to realize what was going on with him. With a slight sigh, she turned to watch Dani take her place at the microphone after consulting for a few moments with the band.
Teague didn’t know what he expected. An old ballad, maybe. Something recorded by Celine Deon or Faith Hill. He was a bit surprised when Dani started belting “Bring Me to Life” instead. And wow, could she sing! Her rich, throaty voice could give Amy Lee a run for her money, as far as Teague was concerned—and he actually liked Evanescence. He had to grudgingly admit that Chris did an excellent job with the backup part of the song. Their rocking performance soon had the whole audience moving in their seats, and the applause afterward was thunderous.
She didn’t get away with doing just the one song she’d agreed to. Her fans demanded an encore. Giving in graciously, she crooned Jewel’s “Foolish Games,” proving she was just as talented at soulful ballads as she was at the harder numbers.
Damn, but she looked good up there in the spotlight, her long brown hair gleaming around her beautiful face, her red and black outfit suitably dramatic for the stage. She held the microphone with the ease of familiarity, and swayed without a trace of self-consciousness in time to the beat.
“Wanna’ rethink that karaoke comment now?”
Teague smiled wryly at the guy whose name he still wasn’t sure about. “Oh, yeah. She’s amazing.”
Dani’s friend nodded. “I don’t think there’s any doubt she could have had a successful singing career, if she’d wanted it. I guess she just didn’t want it enough. She just suddenly quit singing here and a couple of months later she moved to Arkansas. Andrea says she doesn’t think Dani sings there at all. Is that true?”
Shrugging, Teague looked back at the stage, where Dani was taking her bows to another round of applause. This time, she insisted on leaving the stage. The band immediately started another tune, obviously a popular one of their own judging by the satisfaction expressed by the audience.
Teague watched Dani make her way through the tables toward him, stopping several times to acknowledge compliments and return greetings. He realized that he had reached two conclusions while watching her perform. First, that there must have been a major event that had caused a woman with Dani’s talent to stop performing and change her life as much as she had when she’d moved away from Atlanta. And second, that he wanted her.
Despite the possible complications, despite the reasons he knew he shouldn’t get involved with her, despite the objections he was quite sure she would make if she knew the direction his thoughts had taken, he wanted her. And Teague McCauley had a pretty impressive history of getting what he wanted when he set his mind to it.
Dani kept glancing at Teague as she drove toward her sister’s house less than an hour after her impromptu performance. He had said very little since she had returned from the stage, other than to tell her that he’d been impressed with her singing. When she’d told him shortly afterward that she was tired and ready to go, he’d merely stood, said his polite goodbyes to her friends and escorted her out of the club.
He hadn’t spoken half a dozen words since they’d gotten into the car.
“So,” she said, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence, “my friends weren’t so bad, were they?”
“They seemed nice enough,” he acknowledged. “Bit of a party crowd, aren’t they?”
“Oh, they live to party. All of them have jobs, of course—well, most of the time—but they live for the weekends, when they get together to drink and play. I was invited to half a dozen parties tomorrow night at various peoples’ houses and apartments.”
“Yeah, so was I.”
Looking ahead at the road, she asked casually, “I guess Andrea was one of the inviters? I noticed she took my chair pretty quickly when I left it.”
“She didn’t ask me to a particular party, no.”
“Bet she made it clear enough that she wouldn’t mind you asking her out, though. It was fairly obvious that she’s attracted to you. Especially when she found out what you do. She’s got a thing for cops and firefighters and rescue workers—you know, heroic types.”
“Mmm.”
She didn’t know what that sound meant. She didn’t get the feeling that he was particularly interested in Andrea, but what did she know when it came to Teague’s tastes in women?
“I guess you know now why I was hesitant to go there tonight,” she said.
“You figured you’d be pressured into singing?”
“Yeah. I used to have a part-time job singing there. I was never a part of the band that you heard tonight, but we were all friends and I sang with them occasionally. We did those two numbers in a charity show not long before I moved away, which was why we still remembered them fairly well.”
“I’d say you remembered them very well.”
So, maybe it hadn’t been his type of music, she thought, a little miffed by his lack of accolades about her singing. She was accustomed to glowing reviews after a performance, and she knew she’d sung well tonight. Perhaps her voice wasn’t to Teague’s taste. Not everyone liked the same kind of music, of course.
He said very little more during the remainder of the drive. She parked in the garage, in the space usually accompanied by her brother-in-law’s car, and they entered the house through the kitchen. She was trying very hard not to pout; she’d thought she’d come so far from her former attention-and approval-craving self that his lack of enthusiasm shouldn’t hurt her feelings.
“Well,” she said, turning toward him at the foot of the stairs. “It’s getting late. I guess I’ll turn in.”
He moved a couple of steps closer to her, his eyes focused intently on her face. “Hang on a minute.”
Very aware of his nearness, she cleared her throat silently before asking, “Is there something else you need?”
“As a matter of fact…” He lifted a hand to brush her cheek very lightly with the tips of his fingers.
Warmth seeped through her skin in response to his touch. She almost shivered, but managed to cont
rol the reaction.
“What is it, Teague?” she asked, her voice steady enough to satisfy her.
“There’s something I need you to know. You’re not interested, you tell me to back off, and I will. Nothing will change between us. There won’t be an awkward moment. But I need you to know, I’m not looking at you as just a friend tonight. Haven’t been for a while now.”
Her heart did a quick backflip in her chest. “We had an agreement.”
“Not exactly. But it’s up to you if you want to take this any further, Dani. I’ve never pushed myself on any woman and I don’t intend to start now. I just put my cards on the table and let you decide whether you want to call or fold.”
The analogy made her blink, and then she blurted the first words that popped into her head, “I thought you said I was too high maintenance.”
He smiled. “I’m not taking that back. Doesn’t keep me from wanting you, though.”
Her heart thumped again. “I’m not interested in a relationship right now, Teague. I’m trying to get my life in order, finish my education, start a new career. I won’t jeopardize any of that.”
Not again, she almost added.
He shook his head. “I didn’t say I was looking for a relationship, either,” he reminded her, his tone even and matter-of-fact. “You know about my job, how much it demands from me, how little time I have left over for anyone else. This thing between us has nothing to do with the future—or the past, for that matter. It’s only about now. And right now I want you.”
He kept saying that. And every time he did, her entire body responded.
“When—” She stopped to clear her throat. “When did you come to this conclusion?”
“The first time I saw you,” he replied with a shrug. “I managed to keep it to myself until tonight. Until I saw you up on that stage. I knew then I was fighting a losing battle.”
