Читать книгу Any Way You Want It - Kathy Love - Страница 12

Ren’s glance returned to the doorway yet again as another woman entered the bar. Platinum blonde.

Not her.

Today had seemed like an eternity. Quite a statement for a vampire. But he’d been anxious to get here tonight and see if Maggie showed up again.

His sleep should have been an escape from thoughts of her. Slumber was always black and empty. He never dreamed. But even with the relentless, drugging weight of the sun’s rays overhead, dreams had still managed to penetrate the blackness. The enforced rest had been filled with images of a strawberry blonde with green-gray eyes and bow-shaped lips.

As he rose for the evening, surprised and confused by the images, he told himself his subconscious had managed to think of her because of the question she’d asked about the sonata.

How could she know that music? Any print version was long gone. Yet she said she was an authenticator. Of classical music. Was it possible she’d somehow seen it? And where?

He had to know.

It could be dangerous if she somehow tied the music of a composer known as Renaldo D’Antoni to him. Such a discovery would certainly require a lot of explaining on his part.

But in truth, he could handle that. He could manufacture some believable lie. After all, she was hardly likely to think, “Ah-ha, vampire!” That just wasn’t the first explanation a person leapt to.

So if she wasn’t going to piece together that Ren, the Bourbon Street rocker, and Renaldo, the classical composer, were the same person, then why not let all this go? There was no risk, no danger. He should just leave her alone.

His focus returned to the doorway to his left as another group entered. Two guys and a girl with a hairdo that went out of style in the eighties. Or should have.

Not even close to Maggie.

He ignored the sinking disappointment in his belly. Okay, he did wonder about whether she had indeed recognized the music. And he could argue that was the reason he hoped she would return. But did he care that much? Those days were far, far in his past and better forgotten.

His attention snapped back to the doorway as three women stepped into the dim barroom. His pulse jumped as he saw black hair—Maggie’s friend. Then he realized all the arriving women had black hair, and they were Asian.

Another wash of disappointment deadened his hope.

Okay, maybe he also needed to admit that he wanted to see Maggie again too. Something about her—she just drew him.

“Dude,” Drake said after they finished up the song, “you’re doing it again. Josie only goes on a vacation far away once.”

It took Ren a moment to figure out what his bandmate was talking about. Had he really repeated the first line of the Outfield song they were performing? Damn, he knew that song like he knew his own freakin’ name. Better, maybe.

“I’ve been distracted.”

Drake nodded. “I can see that.”

Ren opened his mouth to ask what they should play next, when a prickling of awareness, like needles of both fire and ice, tattooed down his spine. He spun to see Maggie and her friends enter the bar from the left side door.

She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second, then she looked back to her friend. The tall, black-haired one. Erika?

He watched as they crossed the room and stood at the bar, facing away from the stage. Waiting for a drink. Pretending not to be back here to see him.

Ren moved to the mic, trying to ignore that he felt almost…euphoric? Euphoric was not an emotion he was familiar with but—he paused, curling his fingers around the mic—yep, it sure seemed like euphoric. Even if she was making a vain attempt to ignore him.

“How are you all doin’ tonight?” He played up his learned southern accent, because people seemed to like it. He wondered if Maggie did.

“I gotta tell y’all, I have a friend here tonight. Hey there, Maggie.”

He nearly chuckled as she spun from the bar to face him, her expression somewhere between stunned and annoyed.

But instead of laughing, he waved.

She didn’t wave back. Instead her wide-eyed gape turned to a frown. She wasn’t happy. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her after the way he’d taken off so abruptly last night.

Damn, he should just leave well enough alone. He should just let her stand there and have a drink, while he ignored her. Then she’d realize he was the same ass from last night and lose interest.

He should do that, but he couldn’t.

Just like he couldn’t stop his eyes eating up the sight of her. Tonight she wore a simple pink blouse with a high seam that nipped in to accentuate her full breasts. She wore faded jeans and boots—with a heel, and he’d bet a hundred bucks that she’d borrowed the boots from one of her friends. Her slight concession to Bourbon Street fashion.

Still, her attire wasn’t remotely risqué, but his body reacted all the same. Damn, she was pretty.

“Ah, now I know why you keep messing up the lyrics,” Drake leaned in to say, wiggling his eyebrows as he followed Ren’s gaze.

Ren didn’t bother to reply. It was true: since laying eyes on this woman, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything else. So what would it really hurt if he went for it and tried to seduce her?

Sure, he was a vampire. Sure, she might, by some weird twist of fate, know the music he composed nearly two centuries ago. In the end, she would be just like all the other women he slept with—a tourist going back to her normal life, leaving him behind on Bourbon Street.

Maggie could not believe her ears. Was Ren actually up there announcing to the whole bar that they were friends? This guy really took blowing hot and cold to a whole new level.

“What is he doing?” Jo asked, obviously as confused by the abrupt change in behavior as Maggie was. He really was impossible to understand.

“So this song is for Maggie.” He smiled at her again, then said something to the guitarist on his right. The music started, but Maggie didn’t immediately recognize the tune.

Maybe this was just his way of apologizing for asking her to wait around only to leave almost as soon as they began to chat. Maybe he realized she’d been embarrassed—which actually made her feel even more embarrassed now.

Then she heard the lyrics.

A violent blush burned her cheeks. She could not be hearing this right. He wanted her to want him? He needed her to need him?

This was a joke, right?

“Subtle,” Jo murmured.

“I think it’s sweet.” Erika practically sighed.

Maggie shot Erika an amazed look, then realized that most of the patrons in the bar were looking at her with the same goofy smile Erika sported.

Maggie’s cheeks burned even more. This was just cruel; a mean joke. It had to be. Nothing that happen between them last night could lead her to believe he could mean any of what he was singing.

Suddenly she was back in another place feeling just as stupid, then too the butt of some colossal joke.

Her cheeks still burned, but now with irritation. God, she was so stupid. To come back here—because a fortune-teller saw it in a bunch of wet tea leaves.

She didn’t say a word to her friends as she strode past the stage and out the door.

She’d made it a block down the street, past the mechanical swinging legs protruding through the window of one of the many nudie bars, when she heard her name being called. But it wasn’t Jo or Erika as she expected.

She spun, slipping on one of the many strands of Mardi Gras beads that littered the street—even though it wasn’t close to Mardi Gras yet. Obviously another joke by the universe to make her feel stupid. But before she could fall, a strong hand reached out to catch her arm and steady her.

She regained her balance and stared up into hazel eyes, one fringed with white lashes.

“Maggie,” Ren said, not releasing his hold on her, although he loosened his grip. Maybe to let her know he wasn’t going to stop her if she really wanted to go.

She told herself to do just that. Go. But instead she remained still, staring at where his fingers touched her bare skin.

And darn it, her body reacted to him. Even as she felt the burn of humiliation, she also felt the hot tingle of attraction.

“I don’t appreciate you making me the target of some private joke back there,” she said, managing to keep her voice even, despite her embarrassment, despite her arousal.

“I wasn’t,” he said, his own voice sounding sincerely confused.

She stopped staring at his hand and met his gaze. “You’d have to be. There was no other reason to sing that song.”

A small smile curled his lips. “Actually, I can think of one.”

“What?”

“Um,” he said, pretending to consider other motives, “maybe because I’ve never been very subtle. And I wanted you to know I’m interested in you.”

She stared at him, hardly believing he’d just said that.

When she didn’t speak after several seconds, he added, “Or I could have just thought you seemed like a Cheap Trick fan.”

Still she didn’t speak. Did he really mean what he’d said? He was interested in her?

“Really, you decide which one you’re comfortable with,” he said, looking decidedly awkward. “I’m okay with whichever one will get you back in the bar.”

She studied him, trying to read whether he was toying with her. All she could see was sincerity.

“Please,” he said as if to reinforce her thoughts. He gestured back to the bar.

He’d sung that song in honesty? The irritation, the humiliation, drained from her. She’d known what to do with those emotions, but what she was feeling now…she had no idea.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Why? Because I feel bad that I embarrassed you. And I’d like you to hang around.”

“No. Why are you interested in me?”

He frowned as if the question made no sense to him. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re pretty. You seem nice and intelligent and interesting.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Ah, but that’s why I want you to come back to the bar. So I can get the chance to know you.”

Maggie realized she wanted that too. Very much. And frankly, the desire scared her. She shouldn’t be interested in a guy like this. Maybe it wasn’t an invitation to heartbreak, but it was definitely an invitation to more than she could handle.

Ren moved his hand from her arm, only to catch her fingers. “Come on back. I won’t dedicate any more songs to you. I promise. I’ll even admit that the sentiment of that one was a little presumptuous.” His grin widened to full Cheshire cat glory. “Although sincere.”

Maggie felt her cheeks burn even more, if possible.

“Okay,” she heard herself say, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed as he began to tug her down the street. His abruptness stunned her for a second, but she managed to gather her wits and dig in her heels.

He halted, turning to give her an inquiring look.

“I am going back with you,” she said. “But only because I left my friends there, and I don’t want to be rude.”

Ren’s eyebrow raised, stating without words that he didn’t totally buy that, but then he said, “Like I said, whatever will get you back there works for me.”

Again she found herself being towed toward the bar. As they got closer, she noticed that Erika and Jo waited in the doorway. Jo started forward, but Erika stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Maggie looked at her own arm where Ren had touched her. The skin there still tingled, but the sensation was nothing when compared to how her fingers felt surrounded by his longer ones.

“Hey, Erika and Jo,” Ren greeted her friends before Maggie could speak to them or they to her.

“I really need to make up for upsetting Maggie here,” he said offering them an endearing smile. “Could you please make sure she stays so she can see that I’ll be on my best behavior?”

Erika smiled back. “Sure.”

“If she wants to stay,” Jo added. She wasn’t as impressed with his easy charm.

Maggie appreciated both her friends’ attitudes. It was nice to be both defended and supported. And since her brain still wasn’t functioning properly, she could possibly need either one.

They all entered the bar, and as soon as some of the patrons saw Maggie and Ren, they began to applaud.

Heat burned Maggie’s cheeks once again, but Ren simply lifted a hand in greeting. He leaned toward her. “See, you’ve got to stay or everybody’s going to think I’m some kind of monster, driving away a sweet person like you.”

Maggie didn’t respond, but the word sweet resonated with her. The fortune-teller, Hattie, had used that word to describe her too. Good Lord, now that was hardly a sign.

He squeezed her hand, then released her. With a quick curl of a smile, he bounded back onto the stage.

“Okay,” he called out over the microphone, “who wants some rock and roll?”

The crowd cheered, and the band went right into a song. Maggie followed her friends to the bar, staring up at the stage, still not understanding everything that had just happened.

She still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the whole thing was some horrible trick.

She turned to the bar and the bartender with the antenna hair came over immediately. The antennae were in full working order, obviously.

“What can I get you?” She smiled widely, as if they were old friends.

“Do you have wine?” Maggie asked, surprised her voice sounded so normal.

“Really bad wine,” the bartender answered honestly.

“I’ll take it.”

The bartender bounced away.

“So what did he say?” Jo asked.

Maggie took a deep breath. “That he was interested in me.”

“Just like the psychic said.” Erika grinned, then she glanced around the crowded room. “Maybe my blond-haired, dark-eyed prince is here too.”

“What?” Jo asked, thoroughly confused. She hadn’t gotten the whole scoop on the readings, because upon returning to the hotel for a nap, she discovered her sailor waiting in the lobby. That did a whole lot to make up for him missing breakfast, so Jo had spent the day with him.

“The psychic saw Ren in Maggie’s cup.”

Jo still looked confused.

Erika started to tell Jo about the reading Hattie had given, but Maggie cut her off. “The reading was just a fluke.”

Erika gaped at her friend. “Having you look into the cup, pointing to a pattern in the leaves and saying ‘That looks like a face with long hair and an eye’ was a fluke?”

All three friends looked up at the stage. Ren stood at the mic, his head down. When he lifted his head, his hair fell over one side of his face, leaving only his eye with the white lashes visible. He looked directly at Maggie, almost as if could hear them and was presenting the image that had been described.

“And that happening, right this minute, that was a fluke too, right?” Erika said, still gaping up at the stage.

“Here’s your wine,” the bartender shouted from behind the bar to be heard over the guitar solo taking place on the stage.

Maggie gladly reached for the wine, taking a long gulp. Then she reached for her purse, but the bartender lifted a hand to stop her.

“You’re Ren’s girl,” she called. “I’ll just put it on his tab.”

Maggie started to tell her that, no, she wasn’t Ren’s girl, but apparently the hair antennae went off and the bartender bounded away to help another customer.

“The psychic really said that?” Jo asked, seeming as stunned by the idea as Maggie had been—and still was. She took another swallow of the acrid wine, then nodded.

Ever-practical Jo considered that for a moment, then stated quite reasonably, “Maybe we should stick around and check all this out.”

Maggie just stared at the stage, gulping her wine like it was juice.

Maggie now understood what the phrase “liquid courage” meant. She was sipping her third glass of the cheap, vinegary wine. It was tasting decidedly better with each glass.

“I think you should slow down,” Jo warned her, leaning toward her to be heard over the loud notes of a Kansas song.

Maggie nodded, but she felt a lot better than she had. She suspected there was a fine line, however, and if she kept going she might get a little outrageous.

She looked back up at the stage, watching Ren’s every move. Would that necessarily be a bad thing? She grimaced at her own train of thought and resisted taking another sip of her drink.

She really liked the way he moved, and his hair. Who knew hair could be so sensual? She swayed with the music. With him.

She really liked the fact that his eyes kept finding hers in the crowded room.

“I think I am going to have a fling with him,” she suddenly announced. Then she looked down at her plastic tumbler of wine. Okay, she was really too late on this outrageous thing, wasn’t she?

“I think you should,” Erika said.

Jo didn’t say anything, but Maggie didn’t get the feeling she was opposed to the idea. She seemed to still be considering the pros and cons of the plan.

It was good someone was. Maggie considered asking her what she thought. After all, between the warm hum in her veins from the wine and watching Ren, she was now feeling pretty good. And she kept thinking the idea of touching him was pretty good too.

But before she could ask Jo what she thought, Ren announced that the band was taking a break. And unlike last night, as soon as he made the announcement, he stepped down from the stage and headed right to her.

“Hi,” he said, and stopped an arm’s length away from her. Which Maggie found very disappointing. She liked it when he touched her. Just remembering how close he’d been when they were out on the street made her skin tingle.

She stepped closer, even as she told herself not to; that he might not want her getting closer. He didn’t move away, instead he leaned toward her, his mouth very close to her ear, his hair brushing hers.

“What are you drinking?” His breath was warm against her skin.

She closed her eyes briefly as a shot of desire ricocheted through her body.

“Wine,” she managed.

He straightened, reaching for her hand. He lifted both her hand and glass to his mouth and took a sip, then grimaced.

“I know a place that serves much better drinks. Want to go there with me after this last set?”

“Sure,” she said, both scared and thrilled with the idea of being alone with him. Funny how quickly her wine-fueled bravado could evaporate.

He grinned, obviously pleased she had agreed. “Good. I’ll try to make this set a short one.”

She nodded.

He reached for her hand again, and again lifted both her fingers and her glass to his mouth. He took a lingering sip of the cheap wine, watching her reaction over the rim of the cup.

She breathed in slowly through her nose, trying to calm her thundering heart. God, he was so sinfully sexy.

When he finished, he grinned again. “Oh yeah, the place I’m going to take you is so much better.” He gazed at her a moment longer, then nodded at Jo and Erika and turned to bound back up onto the stage.

“Yeah,” Jo stated, her voice dead certain, “you are so going to have a fling with him.”