“At meeting someone in a club, like this.” His eyes were intent on hers. “Like you.”
“Did you just break up with a long-term girlfriend, then?”
“In a manner of speaking. Yes.” He watched her, but didn’t reach out again, and Myka wished she hadn’t moved away. She didn’t understand why her heart exulted to hear that he was available.
“Then how about we find a place that partially suits, and take it from there? Your choice,” he offered.
“We’ll go for—coffee.” For a second, after all the talk of pleasure and pain, Myka had a crazy fantasy of suggesting that they visit the BDSM club. She wouldn’t admit it to Dax, but she’d researched it online. It was only a few miles from here but it was light-years apart in intent and focus.
Visions of standing naked before this man ran through her mind—maybe kneeling before him. Serving him. Her face burned at the images. Just because she was mentally dabbling didn’t mean he—or anyone else—was likewise interested. It was definitely a niche pleasure, not for the mainstream. Although this man seemed anything but ordinary.
“Everything all right, Myka?”
She refocused, smiled. “Yes.”
“Well, then?” He held out his hand, a question in his stance, and Myka took it, attraction pulsing through her. He had an air of command, but Myka liked the way he deferred to her caution, respecting her boundaries.
“There’s a coffee shop I like a few blocks away,” Myka told him, as he took her hand. “We got dropped off in limos,” she explained. “Kylee always wants her entire group out dancing with her every night. It’s her thing.” It was thrilling to leave, and for a second she felt like a prisoner escaping through a tunnel into freedom.
Kylee won’t even notice I’m gone, she consoled herself. She’ll get lost in the dancing, like always, then head back to her luxury suite to crash.
“My car is in valet,” he pointed. “Feel safe letting me drive?” He studied her. Myka hesitated, and he nodded. “We’ll walk, then. Give us a chance to talk, yes?”
He squeezed her hand and shot her a grin, and Myka felt her insides liquefy. What was it about him that had her so worked up? She’d never felt such instant attraction to a man.
The streets were full of beautiful bodies and the promise of sex, the flash of lights, and the atmosphere gave Myka a heady feeling of exultation and abandon. She held Gabriel’s hand tightly, liking the way he walked close.
“So how did you learn Spanish and French?” she asked, curious about his accent.
“My father is from France and my mother from Spain,” he answered. “I grew up in Paris until I was fifteen, then we moved to New York. The languages have helped in my consulting business.”
“What exactly do you do?”
There was a pause. “Well, my PhD was in astrophysics,” he answered in an even voice, and Myka was about to laugh when she realized that he wasn’t joking.
“You’re actually a rocket scientist? Who knows Zen?”
He laughed. “I don’t work in the aerospace industry anymore, Myka. I did for about ten years, and I patented a dozen devices for rocket engines. That’s how I made my fortune, so to speak,” he said, looking at her directly.
“And now?”
“Now?” He paused. “Now that I’m independently wealthy, I can focus on different passions.” His voice held a smirk.
“What kinds of passions?” Myka urged.
“Well. I write, for one,” he replied, “technical writing for some aerospace journals. Options trading. I do some consulting work on project management and team building. And I run a private club.”
“Wow.” Myka nodded her head. “Impressive, Gabriel.” She liked the way his name felt on her tongue.
“It’s my turn,” he said. “Tell me why you spend time in that neon box, a place that doesn’t bring you joy.”
“How do you know about my joy level?” Myka’s voice was tight.
“I don’t yet, apart from your Zen quote about choice. You didn’t seem at ease, and when I first saw you in the street, you had an air of grudging acquiescence, not excitement. Did I get it wrong?”
Myka paused and bit her lip. “I imagine you’re right. It’s just hard to talk about, especially following your rocket science and passions.”
His voice was low but soothing. “The part about following passions is available to all of us, yes? The rocket science, that may be a little more difficult. Maybe not for everyone.”
Myka laughed once. “Yeah. I’d guess so. Well, I love programming and web work, and I’m good.”
“The best, right?” His face was an enigma.
“Hmm. Yes,” Myka continued. “I did say that. I hated my normal job; it was so routine, and the hierarchy of the company was stifling. And then this opportunity came up—to be the lead IT manager for Kylee’s tour. It was a huge coup to get it. I figured I’d see the world. And here I am, stuck programming for hours, doing boring busy work, or out supporting Kylee’s whims in clubs I can’t stand. When I’m actually on the tour, there’s no spare minute. When I’m back in town, there are chunks of vacant time, and I want to fill those up with something meaningful.”
She shook her head. “I’m improving things, though. Like I said, I’m working in my spare time to start building the scaffolding of my own business, so once I’m done with my rock and roll days, I can run my own consulting firm.” Her voice rose with passion, and her hand gripped his.
“Good for you,” he said, and Myka felt a warm rush at his words, which could have been patronizing, but weren’t.
“In fact, I even have a big interview Monday,” she confided. “It’s a part-time IT consulting job with a client who needs some serious programming work. I’ve been preparing for weeks. It would be my first solo consulting gig and would be perfect for my resume.” She smiled. “This is a funny coincidence, but it’s also for an aerospace company. Hey, maybe you can help me shine up my spare rocket ship so I’m totally prepared.”
She hoped to make him laugh, but he looked away, his face tightening, and Myka wondered if she’d said something wrong. Had she upset him? But his face cleared, and she relaxed.
“You have time to manage the tour work and a critical consulting job?” His voice was skeptical.
“Yes. I talked to the manager on the phone; they know about the tour, and they only need me part-time. I can make it work. I don’t care what I have to do.”
As they chatted in the coffee shop, trading stories and asking questions, Myka found herself enthralled with his words, and also with his easy masculine grace, his strong hands, and his eyes. More than once she wanted to reach out and touch his lips, to get up and stand behind him and run her hands over his strong shoulders, to push her breasts into his back and make him gasp, to kiss his neck, to whisper dirty desires into his ear. He wanted it too, she could tell, and the one thing that held her back from giving the nonverbal ‘go’ signal was a craving to savor this part, the chase, this most delicate dance of arousal and desire between two people.
But as the minutes flew by, passion start to overwhelm reason. She’d never been so attracted to a man before, and the one before her was utterly fascinating, alluring, and overwhelming. Their body language became increasingly bold—their hands met across the table, with Gabriel caressing hers; their eyes met for longer periods.
Myka parted her lips and licked deliberately, pleased and rewarded at the flicker in his eyes, the harsh intake of his breath. She wasn’t a one-night-stand girl, but all she could think about was having this man as hers, in her bed. Visions of him pushing her down and taking her filled her mind.
Gabriel leaned forward over the table, and Myka leaned in too, without planning it. His voice was low and his smile intense. “Do you feel it?”
Myka didn’t need to ask. Her voice was soft but firm. “Yes.”
“Myka, I—” He broke off and took her hand in his, stroking the palm with his fingertips. “I’m not like the men you usually date when
it comes to—”
Her phone trilled and she checked the screen: Kylee. She cursed mentally at the singer for ruining the moment, and sighed. “I’m sorry. Have to get this. It’s my little boss.” She rolled her eyes, but was dying to say, “When it comes to what? To what, Gabriel? Tell me.”
“She calls you off hours?” Gabriel took a breath and settled back in his chair. The interruption made him a little more distant.
Myka nodded. “Yes, it’s—” But she couldn’t explain now. She answered the phone. “Kylee?”
The young woman’s voice was high and fast. “Myka! I think I’m having another one. I’m in the bathroom at the club. I looked at the bar and you were gone. Where did you go? I’m breathing too fast and my heart is racing.”
“Kylee.” Myka kept her voice calm. “Deep breaths. Do you have chest pain? Left arm pain? Is your pulse erratic? Are you dizzy, weak, nauseated?”
“None of it. I’m just freaking out! Like last week. I need you to come!”
“Okay. Go sit at the bar and ask for a glass of ice water. I’m coming right over. Take two aspirins from your purse, just in case. But you’re not having a heart attack.” Myka hung up and stood. “I have to go. I’m sorry. She’s—she needs help. Again.”
Gabriel sounded concerned as he stood. “Do you need help? I can come with you. I have a friend who’s a doctor and can treat her confidentially. Or is this an ER matter?”
“No, it will be fine. Thanks. This has happened before. Oh, God, please keep this confidential.” Myka shook her head, thinking of the field day the press would have if they found out about Kylee’s issues. But she trusted Gabriel.
He put a firm hand on her arm. “Of course. Are you sure you can do this alone?”
“I’m sure. I need to go right now, though.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, his gaze intense, then he nodded. “Will you call me? I want to make sure everything is all right.” His voice lowered. “Also, I would like to continue our… conversation.” His smile was confident as he leaned in. “And I think you do too, yes?”
Myka’s heart quickened. “Don’t ask unless you really want to.” She was still uncertain, even though desire showed in his eyes. He was so—everything: powerful, rich, educated, sophisticated, handsome.
Gabriel kissed her lips, and the touch was electrifying. “I only do what I want. And I can’t think of anything I want to do more.”
Myka nodded, feeling sparks, and Gabriel took her phone and entered his information. “There,” he said, handing it back, his hand caressing hers. He led her outside and hailed a cab. “Call me immediately if you need help tonight. Promise,” he demanded, his voice almost fierce, and Myka found herself responding, “Yes. I promise.”
“Good night,” he murmured, releasing her hand. “I can’t wait until we meet again,” and Myka heard his voice in her head all the way back to the club, and fantasies of his body and hers tumbled through her mind before she had to turn her thoughts to the matter at hand.
Chapter Two
The alarm was a shrill jackhammer the next morning, piercing her skull, and Myka groaned and shot her hand out. She’d been up until three a.m. with Kylee, first in the bathroom at the club, then back at the singer’s hotel room. Kylee had drifted off to sleep with makeup-smeared tearstains on her cheeks, looking far younger than her eighteen years.
Myka felt concern at Kylee’s condition, irritation at the girl’s family for their seeming lack of support, and frustration at Kylee herself who had the voice of a sonic angel but the apparent inability to take care of herself. Kylee continued to resist the idea of therapy or even a vacation, and her panic attacks seemed to be increasing in intensity and frequency.
Worn jeans and a soft T-shirt were all Myka needed before seeking coffee in the hotel’s luxurious breakfast café. She had a full day of prep before tonight’s concert, and she needed liquid energy. While she added creamer and picked a plastic lid from the wrought-iron dispenser, she toyed with the idea of calling Gabriel. Too soon? Before she could second-guess herself, she sent him a text.
Gabriel, it’s Myka. I enjoyed meeting you. Everything quiet here today.
She wanted to write something witty, maybe another Zen quote, but her brain was only firing with half the usual neurons, and she wasn’t up for an intellectual foray into the depths of her gray matter.
In less than a minute her phone tinged with a reply.
It was an undiluted pleasure. May I take you to dinner?
Myka smiled, remembering their flirtation, then tapped out her reply.
Yes. I’d love that. Give me a few days though? I have a concert and then the big interview. How about French food?
She smiled at the response.
Oui, bien sûr. I’ll take you to my favorite place.
The texting was interrupted by an urgent call from Kylee. “Myka! I need help getting psyched up for tonight. Bring three Cokes and a bag of M&M’s, peanut, to my room. Also I need one bottle of Evian, room temperature.”
Myka loaded up her arms and headed to Kylee’s room.
“Myka! I’m still nervous from last night. You know I always, like, get freaked out after I have a panic attack. What if it happens on stage?” Kylee clenched and unclenched her fists.
“You’re going to do fine.” Myka took her own deep breath first. “Let’s practice that exercise I taught you, okay? In for a count of three—smell the roses. Out for a count of three—blow out the candles. Smell the roses. Blow out the candles. Come on, do it with me.”
Obediently, Kylee started the deep breathing, her eyes closed, while Myka murmured soothing words, and after about five minutes, Kylee’s face and hands relaxed and her posture slumped. “I feel better now. Thanks, Myka. You’re the only one who I can talk to about this stuff.” Her voice was grateful, but dismissive. “You can go now. I’ll call you later with my latest web updates that I need. Thanks for getting my snacks.” She snapped open a Coke and the sharp sound echoed in the room. “Um, bye?” She raised her eyebrow and nodded toward the door.
Myka tried to dissect what had happened. I’m like her own personal marionette, she thought, and I come running every time she calls. But she needs help, so I’ll keep giving it. Something felt off about the whole situation, and her unease stuck until the show started.
Kylee was on fire, sparkling with joy and confidence, and her voice rang true and pure. Her dance moves were sheer poetry. Once again, the girl had pulled herself together, and Myka was relieved. Thank God for resilience. And thank God for the miracle of Google and the wealth of anti-anxiety tips and tricks one could find.
* * *
Myka spent Sunday relaxing and preparing for Monday’s interview at the aerospace company. She smiled when she received a text from her best friend, Lourdes, who was away in Italy on an archeological dig with her teammates and her ridiculously handsome boss, a man on whom Myka developed a temporary crush every time she saw him. Lourdes wrote:
Need to talk. Will you be in your house-tel this morning so I can call?
Myka replied:
Here for another hour getting ready for interview. Call anytime.
Twenty minutes later she was interrupted by a knock on her door. She screamed in joy and flung herself into her best friend’s arms. “Lourdes! You tricked me! I thought you were going to call, not suddenly show up. You’re back from Italy?”
“There was a, ah, a funding problem with my dig, so I’m back in the L.A. office for a while. I decided to surprise you on the way home from the airport.”
“I’m glad. I mean, I’m sorry about the funding, but so happy to see you! You look amazing. God, your tan. What was the problem with the funding? Is everything okay?”
Lourdes looked down and traced the floor with the toe of her boot. “We have another grant coming, but we need to cut back until then, so Eth—my boss sent me away. Home, that is.” Her voice caught on a quiver, then recovered. “It’s a mess, but these things… happen. I’m really, completel
y fine with it all. I’m heading home to Mami’s house after I surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” Myka said, hugging Lourdes again. “You have no idea how much I need to talk to you. The tour is crazy, and I met a hot guy, and I have a big interview. I’m so psyched.”
“When’s your interview?” Lourdes asked, sitting down, kicking off her knee-high black boots and wiggling her toes. “God, that feels good. Don’t get too close because I’m stinky from the airplane.”
“In an hour. I need to get ready. I should have made you bring me three Cokes and a bag of candy.” Myka shimmied out of her jeans and into a tight skirt and jacket.
Lourdes tilted her head. “Why?”
“Ugh. I’ll tell you all about it later. My pop star has urgent demands for me all the time. Does this look good?”
Lourdes gave a thumbs up. “Sexy. You need heels. And a necklace. Do you have jewelry in this hotel box you call a home?”
“What do I look like, a Tiffany’s outlet?” Myka scolded. “Actually, I do.” She dug out a simple string of pearls and matching earrings.
Lourdes moved to a Purchase Your Snacks! basket on a side table and rummaged. “I’m starving. Can I eat this?” Without waiting for a reply, she ripped open a granola bar, bit, and grimaced. “It’s as hard as a rock.”
“Well, for seven dollars, you better enjoy every stale crumb,” said Myka, peering into the mirror as she applied mascara. “That basket has been there for months, and the stuff was probably there before I even moved into the hotel. And besides, you love rocks. You dig them up all day, right?” She put her hair up into an elegant bun, leaving a few tendrils hanging down. “Good?”
“Yes. And technically we don’t eat the things we dig up. They’re priceless artifacts.” Lourdes made a face at Myka in the mirror.
“They’re probably not as old as that bar. I think that basket has been there since the last Ice Age. And I’m not supposed to look hot. I’m supposed to look like a person who can handle any kind of programming.” Myka sprayed her favorite perfume.
Myka and the Millionaire Page 2
