After Midnight

by Grimm, Sarah

  “Is that Thomas?” Dominic asked, drawing her gaze away from her father and back to him.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s one big guy.”

  She grinned at him. “You’re not falling for his intimidation tactics are you?”

  “I’m wondering if his son has the same build.”

  She took in her father’s broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and overall size. “He does.”

  “That would explain it then.”

  “Explain what?”

  “Why Noah was concerned enough to take the next day to check on you. You were lucky, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Dominic grabbed the handle on the bag containing lunch and lifted it off the bar. “I’d better get going and let you talk to your dad. I’ll ring you when we head to the field for soccer.”

  “Sure.”

  Her gaze tracked him until he pushed open the door and slipped outside. “What can I get you to drink, Dad?”

  “I’ll take a beer.”

  Grabbing a bottle out of the cooler, she slipped out from behind the bar and carried it to the table with her. She placed the beer before him as she slid into the seat opposite his.

  Thomas gave her a long, silent inspection. He reached out and curled his hand around the bottle. “I thought you liked the other one, the singer.”

  “Noah.”

  “I know his name,” he growled.

  She grinned.

  “Who’s the guy that just left?”

  “His name is Dominic.”

  “I don’t like the look of that one.”

  “What’s wrong with the way he looks?”

  “He’s a pretty boy,” he replied with a scowl. “He’s good looking and he knows it. Men like that don’t stay with one woman for long.”

  She studied him across the span of the table. His Fu Manchu mustache and bulging biceps, the shirts that always appeared one size too small because of the way they hugged his brawn. If not for the tattooed arms, he looked a little like the bald guy on the cleaning product ads. She wondered what he’d say if she told him so.

  Better not.

  Most people took one look at Thomas and made assumptions about him. The wrong assumptions. They never took the time to get to know him. The time to discover that beneath his daunting exterior beat the heart of a teddy bear.

  “I like the other one,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “The singer.”

  “So do I.”

  He cocked his head. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward, locking her gaze with his. “Dad, why did you bring Tommy by last night?”

  “He wanted to apologize to you.”

  “But why last night? Why not tonight, or tomorrow?”

  “Thursdays are your nights off.”

  She shifted her gaze to the piano set against the wall. His answer sounded reasonable enough. Still, she had to wonder at the timing. “It didn’t have anything to do with Noah being there?”

  “How was I supposed to know he would be there?”

  “Maybe you two planned it. He was with you yesterday afternoon.”

  He took a drink from his beer for the first time since she’d brought it to him. “Yes, he was.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Dad,” she said with a sigh. She’d spent half the night reliving the kiss she and Noah shared. The hot press of his body against hers, the exquisite male taste of him. The second half wondering whether his arrival at her place had been an elaborate set-up orchestrated by the man sitting across from her right now.

  If it had...Oh, God, she didn’t want it to be true. She pushed both hands over her face and through her hair.

  “Is he who all this is for?”

  “This?”

  “The flash of skin, the perfume you’re wearing.”

  She looked down at herself and frowned. She couldn’t deny it. She’d dressed with a certain singer in mind. Sitting here now, she didn’t know why she’d gone to so much trouble. “I thought he might stop by.”

  “And when he didn’t, you started to wonder about last night?”

  “No. I wondered last night after you and Tommy left. Today just…” She placed her elbows on the table and dropped her face into her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Would it help if I told you I had nothing to do with Noah showing up at your apartment last night?”

  Although his admission came as a relief, her confusion about Noah and the feelings he brought out in her remained a tangled mess. “Not really.”

  “You don’t need it, you know.”

  Her hands fell away from her face as she focused on him again. “What don’t I need?”

  “The flash of skin or the perfume. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Izzy. Noah likes you fine, without the extra fuss. Be yourself. The rest will come.”

  It was “the rest” that had her tied in knots. From the beginning, she recognized that Noah was different from any other man she’d been attracted to. Different in the way he saw her, and in the way he made her feel. It was unsettling enough that she couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to go back to California and leave her to her life, or kiss her again so that she could make sure she wasn’t mistaken about last night. That she hadn’t imagined the shock of desire that shot through her at his touch, or exaggerated the way his kiss made her feel.

  She let out a weighty sigh. “He doesn’t plan to be in town long. As soon as his studio is completed, he’ll go back to California.”

  “Are you asking me what you should do?”

  She reached out and took hold of his hand. “Would you? If I asked you, would you tell me?”

  “I won’t tell you how to live your life. I will tell you that you’ve changed since he’s come into it.”

  “I have? How?”

  “For one thing, you never used to hold my hand.”

  At the emotion in his voice she glanced down to find her hand engulfed in both of his. It had been years since she’d accepted even the most casual of touches from anyone, including him. The times she did were only when she initiated the contact, and even then she was always quick to shift away.

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “So do you let just any guy hold your hand anymore?” he asked lightly.

  “Only the good-looking ones.”

  He cleared his throat and looked away. It was a moment before he commented. “You invited me here to talk, aren’t you going to talk?”

  “I thought that’s what we were doing?”

  He looked back, the expression on his face serious. “You and I both know what you want to ask me.”

  Isabeau turned her attention back to his hands. She needed to know, to hear it from him. At the same time, she didn’t know how she would handle it, depending on his answer. She couldn’t have him hurting Tommy in her name. Violence, in any circumstance, made her blood run cold.

  She looked up at him again. He endured her long scrutiny with quiet patience. “Did you do it?”

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Did you hit Tommy? Are you the one responsible for giving him the black eye?”

  “And if I did?”

  Her stomach knotted tightly. She knew the sound a fist made as it made contact with flesh—felt the shock of pain herself, a time or two. A tremor worked through her.

  “Would you pull away from me, again?”

  “No.” She knew he’d never hurt her. He wasn’t that type of man. “Just tell me, please.”

  “Would it be so bad?”

  “He’s your son.”

  “You’re my daughter.”

  She shook her head. “Not—”

  “Don’t say it,” he warned. The hand resting atop hers flexed. “You are my daughter.”

  “I’m not. Not by blood, the way Tommy is.”

  “Do you think that matters to me? Do you think that has ever
mattered to me?”

  Emotion tightened her throat as his voice cracked.

  “Tommy is my son by blood, yes, but his mother did such a bang-up job filling him with hatred for me that he can’t see past it. He doesn’t need or want me in his life. But you, Izzy, you do. From the day I first met you, you welcomed me as your father. You mustn’t feel bad about that, because I’ve needed you, too. All these years I’ve needed you as much as you’ve needed me.”

  “I do need you,” she admitted, “and I love you, but…”

  “There were years I couldn’t be there for you,” he stated abruptly.

  No.

  She tried to withdraw, but he stopped her by tightening his hand around hers. She held her breath, afraid of the direction this conversation seemed to be heading.

  “I’d give anything to be able to go back and change things. To save you from the years we were apart. I know how you feel about violence, Izzy. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, I do.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  It wasn’t him. Her fears were unsubstantiated.

  He hadn’t decided to teach Tommy a lesson or hurt him in her name. She’d been wrong to even consider it, she knew that now. Her eyes slid closed as she worked to pull her emotions back under control.

  The one thing that still unsettled her was the timing. Tommy’s black eye appeared fresh, as if he’d gotten it not long before he’d showed up at her apartment to apologize. And his apology, that didn’t fit with the Tommy she knew. Which is what led her to question her father in the first place. After all, he was the one to deliver Tommy to her door.

  Her father wasn’t the only person who knew how traumatic Tommy’s attack had been for her. There was another who witnessed the event firsthand. Who then saw the damage to her SUV and immediately suspected Tommy for that second attack as well.

  Her eyes snapped open. “You don’t think Noah…” her words trailed off as a knot formed in her throat. He wouldn’t, would he? She pushed out of the chair and to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Isabeau.” His tone and use of her birth name over her nickname stopped her dead in her tracks, only a few feet from their table. “You know Tommy’s temper. If he upset the wrong person...His assailant could be anyone.”

  She took a deep breath. “I have to know, Dad. I have to know if Noah is capable of—”

  “If he’s capable of protecting you?”

  “I don’t see it that way, you know I don’t.”

  He sighed wearily. “What if he is responsible? What are you going to do?”

  Her stomach cramped abruptly. She could tell that he didn’t want her to go. It only made her that much more determined.

  “You can’t leave the bar unattended,” he argued, shifting her anxiety up a notch.

  “You’re here.”

  “I don’t know enough to be here alone. It’s almost lunch.”

  She turned and started for the door. “Betty will be here soon.”

  “I don’t much like Betty,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before the first customer walks through the door.”

  ****

  “We need to talk.”

  Noah looked up from his seat in the studio lounge and came face-to-face with a fiery-eyed, ebony-haired bartender, sporting stiletto heels and a frown. His entire body reacted.

  “Noah?”

  His breath caught in his throat. Words failed. Setting his guitar aside, he savored the sight of her. Subtle hues of smoke emphasized her incredible gray eyes. Her black-lace-over-blue top molded her torso, hugging curves and showing off her breasts. The top’s scalloped edge ended one inch above the waistband of her jeans, leaving a strip of smooth, golden skin exposed.

  He dragged in a ragged breath. Then another.

  Last night when her hand settled against his chest, while her mouth opened beneath his, he had wanted her badly. Wanted to peel her clothes from her body. Lose himself between her legs. Today, as the subtle scent of her perfume breached the space between them, the desire returned with enough force to blot out everything else.

  “Dom was right,” he managed, then swallowed past the tightness that had settled in his throat. “You look great today.”

  “Yeah, I smell good, too,” she replied sardonically.

  “You do.”

  “Did you hit him?”

  His gaze slid to her overfull lips. Was she wearing lipstick? Something subtle, like her beauty, yet effective. “Who?”

  “Tommy.”

  He grinned. “You mean the shiner? Nice handiwork. I did enjoy that.”

  She kept her eyes on him, saying nothing. Then she spun on her heel and headed out the way she came.

  Noah opened his mouth. Closed it. He blinked once, twice. It didn’t help.

  Was she trying to drive him out of his mind? Her jeans were air-brushed with climbing roses that worked up her leg, around her thigh, and culminated in a vibrant blue blossom on her ass. It was enough to make a dead man salivate.

  “Suck it up,” Dominic warned, as the door closed behind her with a snap. “She’s moving fast.”

  Noah managed to pull himself back together. Barely. Had he ever felt this clawing hunger for a woman before? He couldn’t remember. “You failed to mention those jeans.”

  Dom’s only reply was an unapologetic smile.

  Chuckling, Noah stepped into the hall in time to watch the back door close. He turned to the right and followed the path she’d taken, pushing out into a small garden area he hadn’t known existed.

  Neatly trimmed green grass covered the ground, bisected by a flagstone path that led to a rectangular wooden dining table. The table was topped with an oversized cloth umbrella, unnecessary since the area was shaded by a large red maple that stood off to his right. He spotted Isabeau near the maple, her back to the studio.

  The door clicked shut behind him as he stepped onto the grass and headed in her direction. Before he was more than halfway to her, she turned.

  “I abhor violence,” she stated, her voice full of emotion.

  Standing beneath the shadow of the tree, he couldn’t see her face, but her arms were crossed in front of her, her hands cupping her elbows in a white-knuckled grip. “Sometimes it’s—”

  “No, it’s not. It’s never excusable.”

  He continued in her direction, stopping inches from her. “I understand how you feel.”

  She stared up at him from eyes a little too bright. “How could you?”

  He smoothed his hand over her hair. Silk. “What happened to you? You can talk to me. You know that, don’t you?”

  Shaking her head, she took a step in retreat.

  Secrets, she seemed to be full of them. Would she ever share them with him? “Isabeau?”

  “I didn’t think it would matter. I was wrong.”

  Confusion filled him, warred with the desire still burning in his gut. “What are you talking about?”

  As he took a step forward, she took one in retreat. “This isn’t easy for me. I care about you.”

  “That’s good, because I care about you, too.”

  Showing no outward sign of having heard him, she kept talking as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I dressed up for you. I chose this outfit, the perfume, all with you in mind. I was looking forward to seeing you this morning, but you didn’t come by. So you didn’t come by, who cares?”

  “I’m guessing you do.”

  “Maybe this is normal for you, I don’t know. I have no idea how women are with you. I only know how to be myself, and this isn’t me. I don’t watch the door looking for that one face, yours. And I don’t fret over my appearance.”

  “You don’t have to fret, you’re beautiful.”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. “We both know it’s not true.”

  She took his breath away. Didn’t she realize that? Not just today, but every day, every time he saw her. It wasn’t
her clothes or the addition of makeup that had his blood up, it was the woman beneath it all. Now that he knew her taste, the feel of her body pressed against his and the fit of her in his arms, he wanted nothing more than to experience it again.

  Settling his hands on her waist, he eased her closer to his body. “It is true.”

  She stiffened in surprise. Her hand came up and settled in the center of his chest. Not a caress, but a barrier between them. “Noah, don’t. I can’t do this.” Her eyes slid closed again, then opened as she pushed out of his arms. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come by for a while.”

  “Isabeau?”

  Without further explanation, she turned and started to walk away. Not back into the studio, but around the outside of the building.

  “What? Wait a minute.” Catching up with her, he snagged her wrist and spun her to face him. “Damn it, give me a minute will you?”

  “I have to get back to the bar.”

  “The hell with the bar!” His jaw bunched. “Is that what you needed to talk to me about? You wanted to ask me to stop coming by? At least tell me why.”

  She pulled her wrist free of his grasp, regret creeping into her expression. “I already asked you what I needed to ask you.”

  She had? He was missing something, something big. But damn if he could figure out what it was. He took a step forward as she took one back. She wasn’t walking away from him. Not today, or anytime in the near future. Not before he had a chance to better explore his feelings for her.

  He furrowed his forehead, running the past few minutes through his mind. “You asked me about Tommy.”

  “Yes,” she replied with a nod.

  “Then you left the room before I answered.”

  “You answered me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She blinked. “I asked if you hit him and you said you enjoyed doing it.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. You—”

  He put his finger on her lips. “I said I enjoyed the fact that he was sporting a shiner. I never said I was the one that gave it to him.”

  She studied him for a moment, then pushed his hand away. “The fact that he was hurt pleases you?”

  “It does.”

  “Why?”

  “Sometimes all a bully needs is someone to turn the tables on him, someone to show him what it feels like to be on the receiving end.”