After Midnight (32 page)

“That’s exactly why it needs to be you, Dom, because you’re not the one intimately involved with her.”

****

The instant Dominic strolled through the double doors, Isabeau felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He smiled in greeting as he eased onto his stool, but for the second day in a row, the usual glint was missing from his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, automatically wiping a cloth across the bar before placing a napkin before him.

He sighed while he spun the napkin with his fingers. “I could use a beer right about now, Isabeau.”

“Sure.” She turned to the cooler, retrieved a bottle and removed its cap. Hands unsteady, she settled the bottle atop the napkin. “I thought you would look a little happier than yesterday. Noah’s doing better, isn’t he?”

“Noah’s fine,” he replied, then took a long swallow of beer.

She breathed a sigh of relief and filled two more orders. It was only two o’clock, and already they were at half capacity. She got the feeling it was going to be a long, busy night, and she didn’t need the extra strain that worrying about Noah would bring. While she waited for Dominic to say more, she did a quick survey of the patrons, making certain that no one appeared to need anything.

Assured that she could take the time to talk, she glanced at Clint. He nodded at her, his signal that he would watch things, then went back to his own conversation with a customer.

She took up her customary position directly across from Dominic. “Spit it out, Dom, you’re beginning to worry me.”

“We need your help.”

She couldn’t begin to imagine what he was talking about. “What kind of help?”

His intense blue eyes locked onto her as he took another drink. Apprehension filled her.

“Help with the demo.”

“How could I possibly help with the demo?”

As he turned his head, she followed his gaze to the opposite side of the bar where two businessmen stood talking, ties loosened, shirtsleeves rolled up. They’d been here for thirty minutes and both were on their second beer. But she knew it wasn’t the men Dom was focused on. It was the upright piano against the wall at their back.

The tight clenching of her stomach was automatic and instinctive. “No,” she said softly, adamantly.

As he reached for her hand where it rested atop the bar, she snatched it away and straightened. He didn’t need to know that she was shaking. That her stomach had soured and bile was already working its way up the back of her throat.

“We need you, Isabeau. Without you, our chance of getting this contract…it won’t happen.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” This couldn’t be happening. Even more painful for her to consider, it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Did Noah put you up to this?”

“He said you’d think that.”

“He was right.” Her heart crawled into her throat. The knot in her stomach tightened. “You go back there and tell him his ruse won’t work. Try again.”

Dominic’s eyes held hers, but he didn’t move. Didn’t slide off the stool and out the door now that she’d figured out the game, and called an end to it.

A customer walked up to the bar to place an order, providing her with the perfect distraction. She leaned in to catch the man’s order.

Dom still didn’t move.

Pulled down a pitcher and started to fill it.

Nope.

Was it possible he was telling the truth?

Momentarily distracted, she turned her attention back to Dominic. She noted his body language, the lack of spark in his eyes and the thin set of his mouth. The dread inside her built.

The pitcher overflowed, causing beer to flood the drip tray beneath it and spill down the front of her jeans. She cursed under her breath and grabbed for the cloth at her right. Eyes burning, she swiped at the mess, but only succeeded in making it worse.

“Let me do it.”

Clint’s voice, directly beside her, caused her to startle. She looked at his hand outstretched before him then the concern in his eyes. He’d obviously picked up on the fact that she was upset.

“Go get cleaned up,” he said, taking the cloth from her. “Take a break.”

She needed a break.

Turning, she headed for the kitchen and the staircase to the apartment. On her way, she stopped alongside Dominic. She dragged in a jagged breath. “It is a ruse, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a ruse,” he replied softly. “We need you.”

She pushed through the door and hurried up the steps. Dominic’s slower, steady pace followed. Grabbing a pair of jeans off the top of the dryer, where Noah must have placed them that morning when he’d been looking for his own clothes, she threw open the door to her apartment with enough force it slammed into the wall. She didn’t slow down until she’d rounded the corner and stood in the center of her bathroom.

Her hands shook as she struggled to work the metal button fly of her jeans open. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have sat on the edge of the tub to remove the jeans. The damp denim stuck to her skin. She wiggled and shimmied, finally managing to pull one leg out. Her second foot got hung up and she lost her balance. Grabbing the sink kept her from falling. It also knocked the coffee mug she’d left there onto the floor where it shattered, spraying cold coffee and broken pottery everywhere.

“Isabeau, are you all right?”

Blinking back tears, she stared down at the mess.

“Isabeau?” Dominic rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. “Whoa, sorry.”

“Wonderful, that was my favorite mug.” She dropped the beer soaked jeans that still hung from her fingers and reached for the dry pair. “What kind of song are we talking about?”

Having learned from her near fall, she perched on the lip of the bathtub and pushed her legs into her jeans. It took a minute for Dom’s unnatural silence to penetrate. She glanced up at him. He quickly averted his gaze.

“Earth to Dom. What’s wrong with you?”

His eyes returned to her momentarily before skittering away. “What?”

“I asked you what kind of song it was.” She eased the denim over her hips as she eyed him. “Are you blushing?”

“Hell, no!”

“They’re cotton boy shorts, Dom. My bathing suit covers less. I thought you Englishmen were supposed to be comfortable with nudity and sexuality?”

He shook his head. “You’re sleeping with my best friend. I don’t think either of us wanted me to know about the love bite you have on your inner thigh.”

“I do not!” she exclaimed, a bit embarrassed and more than a little tempted to look. Wait a minute. “You looked?”

“You dropped your trousers in front of me.”

“I did not. You walked in on me. You shouldn’t have looked.”

He flashed her a wicked, naughty grin. “I’m a man. Men always look.”

She started to laugh. She looked at Dominic, standing in her bathroom, with his black hair, blue eyes and easy smile, and she laughed. She laughed because if she didn’t, she would start to cry. She was going to miss him, his sense of humor and bluntness. She was going to miss all of them. It suddenly occurred to her just how much she would lose when they left.

“Noah’s gonna kick my arse,” he muttered, and she laughed even harder. Her laughter died abruptly when he answered her previous question. “The song is a ballad. Noah wrote it.”

“Noah wrote it?”

“Yes. It’s a great song. It’s just…missing something.”

“Something only I can provide.” Her voice wavered.

So did her heart.

“Isabeau?”

Pain washed over her. The fact that Noah had written a song that conveniently needed a piano was verification of what she’d feared all along. She wasn’t enough for him. His interest was in Isabeau Montgomery, the musician. Not Isabeau Montgomery, the woman.

“I don’t play anymore,” she whispered.

“I know. I don’t know why you stopped, but I believe you still possess the skill—”

“Find someone else.”

“Pete says there’s no one else who can do it.”

She pressed unsteady fingers against her stomach and blinked back tears. She’d given Noah her heart, and it still wasn’t enough. Standing there in her bathroom, she finally got it. She and Noah were only temporary. Not because his time in her city was limited, but because he couldn’t accept her the way she was.

Her chest imploded right there. Absently she wondered how Dominic couldn’t see that she was falling apart. Her legs gave out, and she sank to the edge of the tub.

“Come to the studio and listen to the song, Isabeau. You’ll agree it’s the hit we need to secure our comeback.”

****

“You manipulative son of a bitch,” Dominic growled, the moment he stepped in front of Noah. “You played her, and you used me to do it.”

Leaning against the front of the studio in a pose that was far more relaxed than he was, Noah studied his friend. Dominic was so angry he was vibrating, as he paced back and forth, both hands stacked atop his head.

He refused to feel guilty. “What did she say?”

“What did she say? Aren’t you even going to try to deny it?”

What was the point? Dom was right. He wrote the song for Isabeau, knowing all along she could provide them with the proper accompaniment. But then when it came time to ask for her help, he’d chickened out and sent Dominic in his place.

“Who are you?” Dominic asked.

Noah didn’t have an answer for that, either. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Plotting, then worrying over the outcome had stirred his headache back to life.

“Do you realize what you’re doing to her? Did you know that at the mention of playing, all the color drains from her face? She was shaking like a leaf at the thought of sitting at a piano again. Shaking, Noah. Did you know that?”

“No,” Noah admitted quietly. Unease moved through him. “I didn’t know any of that.”

The anger in Dom’s eyes turned to wariness. “Has Isabeau ever told you why she stopped playing?”

“No. What about you?”

Dom shook his head. “After today, watching her try not to fall apart…I’m not sure I want to know.”

He didn’t understand. He’d heard her that first night, seen with his own eyes that she still had the skill. The music she could wring from that sorry excuse for a piano that sat in her bar was astounding. Why would she throw that away? “Her reaction, it was that bad?”

“You can’t imagine.”

Somehow they’d changed positions. Dominic now leaned against the building, his head tipped back, eyes closed, while Noah paced before him.

“We need to rethink this, Noah. There has to be another way.”

Noah muttered a curse. “She’s incredible, Dom.”

“Yes, she is.”

“I mean as a pianist. I’ve heard her. Maybe not as smooth as before the accident, but still…incredible.”

“I know what you meant.”

His stomach tightened. “She’s wasting her talent running that bar.”

“There are people all over the world, more talented than you and me, who go through life without ever realizing their potential,” Dominic pointed out. “It happens every day.”