I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Devon is a good boss. He’s…he’s great at what he does. So prepared, and driven. I’ve already learned a lot from him, but…”
Ellie shifts closer to me, lowering her voice. “But? Was he mean to you? Offended you?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. Not at all. I think it was me who might’ve offended him just before we came over here.”
The urge to share with someone the embarrassing details of my blooper becomes so strong that I can’t resist.
While we sip our cocktails, are all we could have hoped for—pink and gloriously yummy—I tell Ellie everything about our hot tea incident.
Well, everything except the wild fantasies her brother’s shirtless sight unleashed in me.
Ellie nods as she listens, clicking her tongue once or twice.
I recite the exchange Devon and I had about true love, and as I get to the point I’d wish to change the most, she claps her hands.
“Ah, still Morgan. I can’t believe this. She might’ve been the homecoming queen, but she was such a tart. I could never understand what my brother saw in her.”
Morgan?
Long slender legs, thick blond mane, and perfectly sculpted porcelain-doll features pop into my mind, together with a taunting smile and extravagant zebra coat.
I met the woman who destroyed Devon’s faith in true love, and I didn’t even realize it.
“Did they split a long time ago?” I inquire.
“Yep.” Ellie sighs. “Just when Devon started his company. I guess he has Morgan to thank, partially, for Hudson Communications. After they broke up, Devon started to focus only on work. He didn’t go out, and he didn’t date. His dedication paid off, because in less than a year his company booked the first big client.”
Didn’t go out and didn’t date?
This doesn’t sound like Devon.
Ellie points at my wrinkled forehead. “I can see you’re second-guessing me. Do you happen to be an avid tabloid reader?”
Wow, Ellie is pretty good at reading minds.
Since I’m busted, I have no other choice but to tell the truth. “Avid? Absolutely not. But my roomie is. Thus I’ve seen my share of articles about Devon. Also, your brother told me he only enjoys relationships as long as there are no strings attached.”
“That’s what my brother wants everyone to believe—even himself. For the first two years after Morgan, Devon worked like a madman. I feared he would become a workaholic and suffocate himself in his career. So, when Pete convinced Devon to start clubbing with him, I was glad. I hoped Devon would meet a girl who would break Morgan’s curse. But instead, my stupid brother developed a taste for the womanizing lifestyle and began equating relationships to few-nights-stands.”
Morgan’s image in my head gets enriched with a magic wand. I see her place the jinx of “no-love” on Devon.
“What did Morgan do?” I ask.
Ellie purses her lips and takes another sip from her pink beverage. “Mhmm, this is delicious.”
She gives a thumbs up to the bartender who’s been throwing admiring glances at her. The man’s face drifts into a grimace of joy.
Ellie pivots back to me. She smooths her cocktail napkin carefully with her free hand, then places her glass on the counter. “Morgan cheated on Devon. When Devon found out, he broke up with her, dropped out of college, and began working full time on his own company.”
“Cheated? Oh, that must have been awful,” I say with more emotion in my voice than I’m comfortable revealing.
Ellie throws me an appraising glance. “It makes you see Devon under a different light, doesn’t it?”
Despite my best effort to keep up a barrier against Devon, another stone loosens in my heart’s wall. How can I blame him for his disillusioned view of love after what he’s been through?
My compassion for him gives my brain permission to release some suppressed thoughts. Thoughts that make my breathing grow shallow.
I reach for my glass and drain my cocktail, hoping the sweet liquid will wash away my previous misconceptions about Devon and the mushy sensations currently brewing in my stomach.
It doesn’t quite manage to do that, but somehow the agreeable warmth of alcohol spreading into my belly makes me feel better.
Ellie watches me with narrowed eyes. “You were thirsty, huh? Shall I order us another round?”
Her cocktail is still half-full, but I could use another of these delicious pink miracles.
An unexpected giggle jumps from my throat. “Oh, I’d love that.”
Ellie grins and stands up. Instead of waving to the bartender, she walks over to him, probably to motivate him a little.
While she’s gone, I close my eyes and enjoy the woozy but pleasant sensation of weightlessness that settles around my toes and fingertips.
I’ve never been one to hold my liquor, never even practiced it much, to be honest. The one time I had three glasses of sweet sherry on a New Year’s Eve, I only felt sluggish and sleepy.
Now, however, my facials muscles are prone to smiling without any conscious effort. The tip of my nose feels like it doesn’t belong to my body, and I find it extremely funny.
Maybe tonight could become a fun experience after all.
Who would have thought so, after my hot tea fiasco?
The image of a shirtless Devon comes back to me, and the cocktail must have brought down all my healthy defenses, because I don’t discard the vision.
I let the memory of his muscles linger in my mind and create a never felt buzz in my chest. I don’t chide myself for it, just let it stir up all that it wishes, while a delightful smile spreads on my lips.
Chapter 26
(Devon)
Jimmy greets me backstage with a wide grin. “Dev, thanks so much for jumping in for Harry. You’ve no idea how tough it is to get a pianist as good as you on short notice.”
I smile at the chubby, round-faced man who, as always, wears a black shirt with the club logo embroidered on his chest.
“No problem, Jim. You know I like to help whenever I can.”
To be honest, I was more than happy to leave Ellie and Laia alone for a while. I wouldn’t be great company to the girls anyhow. My chat with Laia put me into too much of a grim mood for that.
Jimmy scratches his thick, white beard, which I know he keeps growing, despite his wife’s sheer dislike of hairy men, to honor his favorite baritone saxophonist. “But it’s such a special evening for you. I hate to tear you away from your lovely companion. She does have something of Magos Herrera’s charm, doesn’t she?”
Jimmy compares everyone to musicians. The fact that Mexico’s jazz prodigy reminds him of Laia—though I can’t trace any objective likelihood between the two—is the highest compliment he can pay to my assistant, at least in Jimmy’s terms.
“Yes, she’s an exceptional girl,” I murmur without realizing, while my mind wanders back to the fierce glow in Laia’s eyes when she accused me of not knowing what true love meant.
It was rational for Laia, without knowing about my past, to believe I’d always been a ladies’ man.
Still, her words stung like yellow jackets, and even remembering them sends a hot, smoky, almost irreverent pain billowing through my chest.
My grief has nothing to do with my ex, and everything to do with the realization that Laia doesn’t believe me capable of real devotion.
Jimmy’s fleshy lower lip moves into a smirk. “It’s good to see you bringing along a girl for a change. I’d much rather see you with lots of kiddos who’ll inherit your gift for music than drinking booze with Pete.” He winks at me. “Though don’t tell our Elvis imitator I said that. I like him just as much as you, but I know he won’t change, while with you I still have some hope.”
Before I get the chance to correct Jimmy’s assumption about Laia, he taps my back. “Gotta get back outside, Dev. Pick some nice song for the lady of your heart.”
He rushes away, leaving me with a mood darker than I ha
d before we spoke.
I rub my cheeks and draw in a big breath. Lucky I’m about to play the piano, because this activity always clears my head.
As I exit to the podium, my eyes immediately search for Laia and my sister. I have no doubt they’ll get along fabulously, but I’m worried because I couldn’t coax out of Ellie what her secret plan for tonight is.
And I’m sure she has one.
I first find Ellie who is hard to miss, given that she’s gesticulating with ample movements to the barman.
My glance shifts further to Laia, still sitting on the same barstool where I left her. Her eyes are closed as if she’s wrapped up in some inner fantasy. Whatever she sees, it must be good, because a ravishing smile plays on her lips.
I settle to the piano, but my gaze is still on her face.
She looks absolutely stunning and unusually relaxed. I would give anything to see her this happy more often.
It wasn’t entirely illogical for Jimmy to assume that when I finally show up with a woman in his club after years of frequenting the place alone the person I come with would have a special meaning.
Still, his misconception frustrated me.
Now, admiring how the spotlights of the bar illuminate Laia’s face, making her skin sparkle, I realize my irritation about Jimmy’s theory wasn’t caused by the right reason. I wasn’t bothered that he assumed Laia and I dated. I was troubled because his remark made me want that he didn’t have to misinterpret our situation.
“Hey, when are you starting?” A man from a nearby table jars me out of my reverie.
I nod to him to signal right now and blink at the massive music sheet holder that contains the full repertoire Harry was supposed to play.
I like Bud Powell and Miles Davis, but before getting into their groovy rhythms, I’d like to play one special song.
I don’t even need the notes for it, since I know it by heart.
Will she understand why I picked it?
Do I even?
Before I can change my mind, I press my fingers on the keyboard.
As the first strings strike, sending a bittersweet melody floating around the room, Laia’s eyes spring open.
For a moment, despite her eyelids not shading her spectacular irises anymore, she still appears to be elsewhere…in a sort of trance, maybe. But then her gaze moves to me, and her lips part slightly.
I would never confess it to Ellie—the instigator of my demise—and I have a tough time even admitting it to myself, but as my eyes lock with Laia’s, the whole club seems to brighten up.
I didn’t want Laia to come tonight. I’ve been angry with my sister for inviting her. But having Laia at Jimmy’z, listening to the song she inspired me to pick, feels good.
Like Laia belongs here.
In the very hideaway to which I ostentatiously refused to invite any women.
Could this be a sign that Laia could fit my life, too?
A powerful emotion surges through me. Desperately afraid to trust it or even decipher what it might be, I shove it aside and deepen my fingertips on the keys.
Yes, sublimating these scary, exciting feelings into this song will surely help rid my soul of them for good.
Chapter 27
(Laia)
The sounds that Devon lures from the piano swirl around the room like magical serpents, wiggling their way into the listeners’ souls.
His music must be the reason I feel suddenly breathless.
The snake must be crashing my ribs against my lungs as it dances through my chest.
The first three buttons of his shirt are open, giving just a glimpse at his collarbone. His fingers run up and down on the white and black keys with such grace, it’s as if he were born to do this. The melody, familiar, captivating, but above all played to perfection, fills the bar.
Just when I think I’m not able to take his music’s beauty, Devon begins to sing.
I can’t see if he has a mic attached to his shirt, or maybe it’s clipped to the piano in a way that’s invisible to anyone not on stage, but he must have some kind of amplifier, because his voice reverberates from the walls of the bar with sheer force.
And what a voice.
How did I not catch this before?
When Devon speaks, he has a deep and pleasant baritone. But when he sings? His intonation is so sensual and purring, I feel like I’ve just eaten a full-blown, decadent chocolate cake with strawberry topping.
Satisfied but craving for more.
I lean forward on my seat, not realizing when Ellie comes back and plops down beside me. My whole attention is focused on Devon.
Slowly the words he sings make their way into my mind. Up until now, I’ve been so caught up with the acoustic of his voice that I didn’t recognize what song he was playing.
Everybody needs somebody to love…
It’s more a soul than a jazz song. I wonder why he picked it. Is it a joke to me? A provocation?
Devon glances up while his hands continue playing. His gaze travels to me, and I spot a mischievous glint in his eyes.
That, or I’ve drunk too much.
But I like the idea that it’s there—more than I probably should.
Ellie hands me another glass, and I take it, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks.”
She bends closer and whispers, “I used to tell him that if a woman heard him play, she would ultimately fall in love with him.”
I snap my head to her, because her words are too spot-on to be coincidental.
Can she see how my heart is jumping around in my chest? Or is my ragged breathing betraying me?
“Is that why you invited me here?” I ask Ellie. “Devon told me you’re trying to fix him up. But he doesn’t like it.”
Ellie twirls her glass around and a piece of strawberry on the rim falls into her drink. “Devon doesn’t know what he needs, but I do. He needs a good girl he can fall for. Only that will heal his soul.”
At the unmistakable conclusion about who she has in mind for her brother, my neck begins to itch.
I wouldn’t mind being that girl.
Especially now that I’m listening to Devon’s voice singing this utterly romantic song.
The problem is all evidence suggests I can’t be. Even if I tried…
I lift my glass. “Well, cheers to that. But please don’t place your bets on me. I’m not the right person to save your brother.” I quickly swallow a few gulps from my drink because saying these words out loud makes me sad.
This second cocktail is more potent than the first; it burns my throat and sends a direct heat into my stomach. But at least it also dissipates a bit of my sorrow.
Ellie smacks her lips. “We’ll see about that. Something tells me you could be exactly the right person for this job. And my hunches are usually good.”
Except this time.
I’m way out of my league with a man like Devon. I was with Bobby, my high-school crush, and he was…I can’t even mention him on the same page with Devon.
Intellectually. Charisma-wise. Or physically.
Ellie flutters her hands above her head as if signaling to somebody.
A blond man with an Elvis haircut walks to us.
“Hi, kiddo,” he greets Ellie with a kiss on her cheek. Then he turns to me. “Hi, Laia.”
I stare at him wide-eyed.
The guy indeed looks like “the King” only in blonde, but even if his face seems familiar, I’m sure I’ve never met him.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I say.
He grins. “No, we haven’t. But I do know you. I’m Pete, Devon’s friend.”
Ah, the friend under whose wings a heartbroken Devon turned into a careless playboy.
“Your boss has told me many great things about you,” Pete adds.
“Did he?” I answer, while my eyes wander to the stage.
To my surprise, Devon is staring at me.
His brows are set in a furrowed line, even as he plays a new song, a classic from Bud Powell.
&
nbsp; I don’t know what has gotten into me, maybe the Bellini’s naughty kick, but I give Devon a long, lingering glance before I turn back to Pete.
From the corner of my eyes, I see Devon’s still watching me. I exchange Pete’s smile with a flirty one of my own. “Well, that’s lovely to hear. Though I’m not sure I deserve so much praise.”
My voice is drenched in that faux-modesty that I’ve often observed Chelsea use with men when she wants to trick them into complimenting her.
Pete shakes his head. “Oh, no. My friend didn’t exaggerate one bit with his words, I assure you.”
Ellie clears her throat and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Is your cocktail good?”
While I confirm that it indeed is, Pete intercepts Devon’s gaze. He smacks his lips, spreading his fingers like the petals of a rosebud.
Devon’s face tenses, and his fingers miss a note, which makes the refrain of “Bouncing with Bud” edgier than it was supposed to be.
My chest warms at his mistake. I can’t help but hope my coquettish behavior contributed to this slip.
Pete pivots back to us, chuckling. “So, beautiful ladies, what are you drinking?”
I hold up my cocktail. “I don’t remember the name, but it has perfectly blended strawberries and lots of bubbles.”
Pete wiggles his brows. “Sounds just the right kind of drink then. I’ll also get—”
Before he can continue, Ellie jumps up. “Before you do that, Pete, there’s something important I’d like to discuss with you…in private. Do you mind if we step outside?”
Pete looks bewildered at first, then shrugs. “Of course, kiddo. I know better than to contradict you when you have this determined glint in your eyes. Your wish, my command.” He blinks at me. “Will you be fine on your own, Laia?”
“Suurrre.” Okay, this last ‘r’ rolled off a bit funnily. Maybe my tongue has gotten larger in the past minute?
“Devon will stop playing soon and keep her company,” Ellie chimes in. “You and I surely won’t be missed.”
Pete gives Ellie a suspicious glare then nods. “Ah, I see. See you later, Laia. Maybe.”
Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Page 19
