by Melody Grace
He thinks I’m beautiful?
My heart skips, but I play it cool. “There aren’t any hills in New York,” I point out.
“The river, then.” Austin grins. “But I’m telling you this now, it’ll be a cold day in hell before you catch me singing one of these songs.”
He nods to where an elegantly-dressed man in a purple suit has taken up position behind the piano to sing, “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina.”
I giggle, trying to imagine Austin in his place. “Come on,” I urge him. “It’s fun, right? You can’t say you’ve ever been somewhere like this before.”
“No, I can’t say I have.” Austin slides a twenty across the bar before I can even reach for my purse. “Here,” he says, nudging my drink towards me. “Do your worst.”
I lift it to my lips and take a long sip. “Mmm,” I smile sweetly. “Delicious.”
I lick a stray drop from my lips, and suddenly, Austin’s smile isn’t amused anymore. His eyes blaze into me, suddenly hot. Hungry.
My stomach turns a slow flip.
Oh.
But just as quickly, he looks away, and nods to a table that’s just opened up in the corner. A couple of boys are heading over, looking barely out of drama school. “Quick, before I have to duel for it.”
“True. You look like you’d be a sore loser,” I quip, before darting through the crowd.
His laughter carries after me.
Two drinks in, and I’m feeling good. So good, in fact, that Matt is just a distant dream. A weak, conflict-avoiding, no-good excuse for a boyfriend.
Besides, who needs a guy like that when I have a prime cut of man right in front of me. Ripped, and gorgeous, with a smile to die for…
“Did you know you have dimples?” I ask Austin, gazing intently at his face. “Cute little dimples, right…here.” I reach across the table and prod my finger into the dip.
He chuckles. “I stand corrected. If you were drinking whiskey, you’d be flat on the floor by now.”
“Are you calling me a drunk?” I gasp, mock-outraged.
“Not a drunk, just drunk.” Austin grins, leaning back in his seat. “But don’t think I’m not enjoying the show.”
“It is fun, isn’t it?” I say happily, turning to the piano. All night long, people have taken their turns singing up in front of everyone, and by the first chorus, usually the whole crowd has joined in. It’s warm and friendly, nothing like the cooler-than-thou bars back in LA, all full of stick-thin models and guys who think they’re hot stuff.
Matt’s probably out at a bar like that right now, introducing himself and saying he’s a doctor, and having some girl fall at his feet
I snap out of it. Maybe I am a little tipsy.
“I’m going to sing,” I decide, then blink. Where did that come from?
Austin shakes his head, still grinning. “This I’ve got to see.”
“You don’t think I can do it?” I challenge.
“Oh, I believe in you, sweetheart. Anything you set your mind to.”
“That’s right.” I get up, relieved to find I’m not on the stumbling side of drunk just yet. The room barely sways as I straighten my dress and take a deep breath. “Just watch.”
Before I can think it through, I approach the front, just as the last guy finished his number. The older piano player smiles, picking out a melody on the keys. “What can I do you for, red?”
My mind races. I’ve never sung in public—embarrassing karaoke sessions aside. At least, not since I played Rizzo in our high school production of Grease…
I tell him the number, and take a deep breath as he finds the sheet music. He plays a couple of bars. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Oh God.
I look around. Even in the dim light, I can see all the faces staring back at me. Waiting.
What the hell am I doing?
Living. A small voice answers. That was the point of this trip, wasn’t it? To do all the things you’ve been daydreaming about, the things you never had the time or nerve to do.
Well, here I am, wearing my best slinky dress and heels, in front of a room full of strangers who I’ll never see again in my life.
I catch Austin’s eye, over in the corner.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I close my eyes, open my mouth, and sing.
Austin
Goddamn.
I watch, stunned, as Sophie transforms before my eyes. One minute, she’s giggling and adorable, sipping at her ridiculous drink. The next, she’s up there at the front of the room, batting her eyelashes with a sensuous smile.
Forget classic movie star, this girl has gone full femme fatale.
“There are worse things I could do…” she sings, swaying those hips in a sensuous rhythm. She leans against the piano, her voice low and pure. She’s not a professional like some of the Broadway guys here tonight, but what she lacks in polish, she makes up for in oozing sensuality, smoldering so hard I swear she could set the room on fire.
I shift in my seat. Holy shit, this girl is dangerous. From kitten to wildcat in ten seconds flat.
And what else is hiding behind those innocent eyes?
The song continues, and I can tell, Sophie relaxes into it. She walks out from beside the piano, throwing winks and flirty looks to the guys around her. It’s a commanding performance, and I’m having so much fun watching, I don’t realize the effect she’s having on me until she locks eyes with me and pauses for breath, her curves rising and falling in that illegal dress.
She begins the final verse, but now she’s singing only to me. She sashays towards me, trailing a hand across my shoulders as she leans in close.
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. I’ve had a couple of lap-dances in my day, but dammit, if this doesn’t put them all to shame. Every sway of those hips makes my blood rush south, every tilt of her body reveals a glimpse of her delicious cleavage. She’s barely touching me, still totally into her performance, but I’m so turned on, I won’t be able to get up for days.
I’m so busy staring, I don’t even realize that the song is over and the room has burst into applause. Sophie’s sultry expression slips, and she looks around in amazement.
“Oh my god,” she exclaims, skipping back over and throwing herself down in her seat. “I can’t believe I just did that!”
I can’t either. But the lust pumping through my body is like nothing in the world, and suddenly, the only thing I care about is feeling those lush curves pressed up against me; that dangerous mouth easing open to my touch.
I grab our coats and pull her to her feet. “Hey!” she protests, spilling her drink, but I’m already hustling her towards the exit and upstairs to the street. The cold hits me, but I don’t care, I’m burning so hot, I barely feel it.
“Where are we going? I was having fun!” Sophie catches her breath, shivering. “If you didn’t like my singing, you could just say—”
“I liked it plenty,” I tell her, sliding my hands around her waist and pushing her gently back against the wall. “But would you want me doing this in front of everyone?”
I lower my head and claim her sweet lips in a heated kiss.
Damn.
She sways against me, her mouth falling open in surprise. I take the chance to slide my tongue deep and taste her, taste that sweetness, the hint of coconut from her drink still lingering, making me think of warm sandy beaches, and a tropical breeze whispering on our naked skin…
Sophie moans, arching up against me, wrapping her arms up around my neck and pulling me even closer.
The kiss gets hotter. Stronger. Deeper. Fuck, I could drown in this, the sensual pleasure of her eager mouth, the blazing heat that pumps through my veins.
There’s a sharp whistle, and then laughter nearby. “Atta boy!” someone yells. “Show her how it’s done.”
I pull away. Sophie is staring at me, wide-eyed. Her hair is rumpled, her lips flushed red from the kiss.
She’s the most beautiful thing I�
��ve ever seen.
She blinks, coming back into focus again. “I didn’t…what did…?”
“It’s called kissing, sweetheart,” I murmur, smiling. I reach out and gently smooth her hair back into place. “And if you don’t like it, you better tell me now, because I’m planning on doing a lot more of it.”
Sophie gulps for air. “The jury’s still out,” she manages at last.
I laugh. She’s still trying to play it cool, but I know from the way she melted in my arms that she felt that just as much as I did.
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that,” I tell her, “but those lips don’t lie.”
I help her into her coat, then offer her my arm. She takes it with a smile. I steer us across the empty street, and we start strolling back to the hotel through the darkness, under the bright glow of the streetlamps.
“It snowed!” she exclaims suddenly, looking around. Sure enough, there’s a dusting of white coating the streets and parked cars we pass. “I can’t believe I missed it.”
“That’s OK, you had other things on your mind.” I shoot her a suggestive grin.
She giggles. “You know, you’re awfully sure of yourself,” Sophie comments, walking beside me. “Some people would even say you’re bordering on a narcissistic personality disorder.”
“What now?” I blink.
She catches my expression and laughs. “Psych grad student,” she explains. “I’ve always been fascinated by the way people think.”
“So what does your whole Christmas thing say about you?” I ask, only part teasing. “I mean, it’s just a big racket to make people spend money and try to pretend like they’re happy. I haven’t had a single holiday where my mom doesn’t start stressing over dinner, and my dad picks a fight with my uncle, and Grandpa George sits bitching by the TV all day.” I chuckle at the memories, but when I look over, Sophie has a wistful expression on her face.
“You have a big family?” she asks.
“Big enough.” I reply, steering us down another street. “There’s just my baby sister and me, but my parents have eight siblings between them, so things can get pretty out of control.”
I think again how lucky I am to be far away from the madness this year—with a gorgeous woman on my arm, and her kisses still hot on my lips.
“I’m an only child,” Sophie says quietly. “And my parents divorced when I was young. Christmas was always fight between them,” she sighs. “Another way to score points. They would split it up,” she explains. “Christmas Eve with my mom, Christmas Day with dad. But they always found a way to interrupt, so I would feel guilty for going, or worse for staying home.”
There’s a flash of sadness in her eyes. I find her hand and squeeze it.
“I always dreamed about the day I could make Christmas into the holiday I wanted. Start my own traditions, and leave the past behind,” she says.
“Like singing show tunes in a gay bar?” I try to make her smile. “You can tick that one off the list.”
It works. She cracks a smile, “No, just…Real holiday things. Like ice skating, and hot cocoa, and toys wrapped up under the tree. And a house that smells like cookies on Christmas morning, with Frank Sinatra singing holiday songs…”
She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. For a moment, I wish that one day she gets that same look thinking about me.
Where did that come from?
I make split-second a decision. I need to get her back to my hotel room, and show her everything I couldn’t do out on the street corner—naked and panting, surging hot against her body, tangled up in the sheets of that penthouse suite until she’s moaning so loud the neighbors call to complain.
I want to make her scream my name, clench around me, come out of her mind.
But I want to make her smile even more.
“Change of plans,” I tell her, veering left. The hotel is just ahead, but there’s someplace else I need to take her first.
“Where are we going?” Sophie blinks.
“It’s a surprise.”
“They told me never to wander off with strange men,” she teases me, laughing as she follows down the street. We cut through a shopping district, the boutique windows all lit up and glittering with their holiday displays.
“I’m not strange,” I grin back.
“Just a little.” she corrects me. “But that’s OK. We all are. The only normal people are the ones trying really, really hard to hide their weirdness. ”
“So now I’m weird?” I protest. “Gee, thanks darlin’.”
“I never said I didn’t like it.” Sophie suddenly stops, tugging me back to her. She reaches up on her tip-toes, and kisses me on the cheek.
Her breath is hot, her lips are cool. I feel off balance for a moment, and have to think real hard so we both don’t go sprawling in the slush. “What was that for?”
She gives me a shy smile. “This. Taking me out, making me laugh. You’re a nice guy.”
“Nice?” I repeat it like a curse word. “Damn woman, cut my balls off right here why don’t you?”
“What?” she laughs. “It was a compliment!”
“No way. Call a man magnificent, or strong, or the best lay you’ve ever had, but for God’s sake never call him nice.”
Sophie shakes her head. “Believe me, it’s underrated.” She tucks her arm back through mine and keeps walking. “Too many men make out like they’re nice guys, when really, they’ll take the easy way out the first chance they get. No matter who they hurt.”
Her voice is sad again. “Your ex?” I ask gently.
“My ex.” A determined look comes over her face. “Fuck him.”
I laugh with surprise. “That’s the spirit. He’s the one missing out right now.”
Sophie suddenly gives me a smile, warm and bright enough to turn the night to day, melt all this snow away. “Yes. He is!”
I know I’m supposed to be the one keeping her upright, but for some reason, I’m the one who feels unsteady.
Everything about this girl is unexpected. Intriguing. A breath of fresh air.
“So where are we going?” Sophie asks again. I pull myself together and look around.
“This is it. We’re here.” I nod to the gates marking one of my favorite places in the city. “Gramercy Square Park. One of the last private parks in town,” I explain, “You have to live in one of these buildings to get a key.”
“So how do we get in?” Sophie frowns. She takes a couple of steps closer, peering through the iron bar fence that surrounds the whole park.
“Easy,” I say. I check that there’s nobody around. The street is dark and quiet, only people in the distance on their way out for a Christmas Eve drink. “We hop the fence.”
Sophie
When I turn around, Austin is bent over with his hands cupped together like he’s ready to boost me over the top.
“You can’t be serious!” I gasp.
“I never joke about breaking and entering.” He flashes that heart-stopping smile at me, and despite everything, I feel a pulse of excitement.
“We’ll get caught.”
“By who?” He makes a show of looking around. “Everyone’s off getting drunk—or setting out milk and cookies for Santa,” he adds, a teasing note in his voice.
I blush. I know my fantasy Christmas must have sounded so naive to him, but I can’t help it. I spent my childhood with the holidays hanging over me like a dark storm cloud, full of guilt and sadness and rejection. I’ve wanted to make new traditions, and I thought that this year with Matt would be my chance. To wipe the slate clean and make new memories; happy ones.
So what are you waiting for? A voice whispers. This is already the most memorable night of your life. Just think what else might happen if you take the chance.
Suddenly bold, I take a step towards him and place my gloved hand on his shoulder. “If I spent Christmas in jail, you’re going to owe me big-time,” I promise, lifting my foot and placing it in his hands.
“Anything,”
he laughs.
“Like next Christmas in Lapland,” I tell him, shifting my weight. “With real, live reindeer and snow, and a tour of Santa’s factory.”
“You’ve got it.” Austin grins at me, so enthusiastic, I can’t help but feel my pulse skip. “You ready? On the count of three. One…two…three!”
On cue, I step up onto his hands, reaching for the top of the fence as he boosts me up high. I grab the top bars easily and haul myself over the top, sliding to the ground on the other side. I steady myself and brush down my coat, looking around.
The park is a block wide, with trees and bushes thickly planted around the edge. Inside, old-fashioned streetlamps cast a glow over the shadows; snow blanketing the ground in a powder-perfect layer of white. A path winds deeper into the shadows, inviting.
It’s silent. Still.
Magical.
“Hey, Sophie?”
Austin’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and a moment later, he drops down beside me with a heavy thud. He straightens up, brushing snow from his heavy winter jacket. “You know there’s no Santa Claus, right?”
I hit him lightly on the arm. “I’m not a kid!”
“Just checking.” He looks around, then falls silent a moment. “Wow,” he breathes.
I reach for his hand. Even with my gloves on, I swear, I can feel his touch. “Wow,” I echo quietly.
We take the path and slowly delve deeper into the park. Here, the bushes and trees grow thickly, dusted with their coating of snow. The traffic and noise of the city seems to fade away, until we’re the only people in the world. Our own private winter wonderland.
And Austin is the one who’s showing it to me.
“I don’t know anything about you,” I realize, glancing over at him.
“Besides how handsome and charming I am,” he replies. “And a great kisser.”
I laugh. “Besides that. Tell me something,” I urge, curious. “What do you do? What do you love to do?” I correct myself, knowing that someone’s day job usually doesn’t say much about who they really are.
Austin hesitates. “I’m…a musician,” he finally answers. “In the music industry. I was just in the studio, recording for…this new singer-songwriter.”
