More Than You Know (2 page)

“Honey, everyone watches you when you sing.” Kelvin smiled as he moved to her other foot, yielding another moan from her. “It's called magnetism. Style. Appeal. And double D boobs comin' out of your dress when you breathe.”

“Oh shut up.” She let out one chuckle, but shook her head in mild frustration. “No, it was more than that. It was like he was . . . I don't know, sizing me up?”

Kelvin laughed. “Baby, I'm sure he was.”

“Nooo, I don't mean like that. I mean like . . . in an . . . analytical way. Not in a sexual way.” She let her head drop back onto the padded arm of the couch. “Maybe I'm just paranoid.”

“You're not paranoid,” Kelvin said, working the arch of her foot and bringing more sighs of pleasure from her. “You're mistrustful, jaded, cynical, and bitter, but you're not paranoid. Of that much, I can assure you.”

She chuckled wryly. “Thanks.”

“You know I love ya, honey. But it's all true.”

She scowled. “I know it is. But to hear it out loud makes me sound like a . . . a shrew.”

His eyes and voice softened. “You're not a shrew. You've been hurt. A
lot.
”

A wave of images flooded her and she shook her head, as if that would shake them out. She sat up abruptly, swinging her feet to the floor. “I'm going to the bar. One drink before the next set. You coming?”

“No, you go ahead.” Kelvin pulled his cell phone from the inside pocket of his blazer. “I'm going to say a quick hi to Manuel.”

She stood and shoved her feet back into her stilettos. “The new boyfriend?”

“Yessss.” Kelvin started texting, his eyes now on his phone. “The man is dreamy.”

“I'm living vicariously through you, Kel. You're a rock star.”

He laughed. “You could be too, if you wanted to. Men swarm to you. But you don't want it.” He scowled briefly. “Damn autocorrect. I know what I mean to type, and ‘ducking' ain't it.” His dark eyes lifted to her again as he asked, “Jules? When's the last time you got some, honey? You're a little cranky lately.”

“Not in six months,” she said, scowling.

His eyebrows shot up, a look of exaggerated horror on his face. “Has it been that long?”

“Last guy I slept with was Joe. That ended at Thanksgiving.”

“Well, that explains a lot. No sex for my sweetheart equals
cranky.
” Kelvin clucked his tongue and shook his head slowly. “Joe was nice. And
hot.
That man fell for you, and you jettisoned him into space the minute you realized that.”

“It was supposed to be no strings,” she said in a flat tone. “You know my deal. He broke the rules.” She headed for the door.

“You're gonna have to break those rules of yours one day,” he said softly. Something in his voice stopped her and made her turn back to look at him. He added with a pointed stare, “And if you do, you might let yourself find love again. Or at least, find something good.”

“Nope. Not interested.” She ignored the sad flutter in her stomach that her friend's concern created. Whenever he brought this up, she fought against the tug in her heart. By now, she always won. “My rules work for me just fine. See you back here in what, fifteen?”

He sighed, giving up. “Sounds good. And bring me back a Coke, would you?”

“You got it.” Julia smoothed her dress over her hips and made her way toward the bar. Her longtime friend's words echoed in her head, but the noise of the bar helped drown them out. It was pretty full, and that pleased her. If she and Kelvin kept filling the place regularly, Everett would keep them on as a regular gig. And she loved singing here.

When Everett Bailey had opened the martini bar, she'd gone there a few times for drinks with Randi. Even for the north shore, it was high-class without being pretentious, a posh little jewel of a place. When Everett had brought in a piano and started having singers on Friday nights, she asked for an audition. She'd done a bunch of random gigs with Kelvin all over the tristate area; having a regular gig, much less close to home, would be great. Two years later, she and Kelvin were still here every Friday night, making music together and enjoying themselves.

The bar only had space for about a hundred people, but that was a good crowd when it filled up. And tonight, it was filled, even though it was after midnight and they'd already done two one-hour sets. Maybe it was the nice weather; spring in the air made people want to get out and do things after a long winter cooped up inside. Whatever it was, the bar was crowded, and it took her a good minute to get to the bar. There were no available stools to sit on, and she sighed inwardly.

A man in his fifties noticed her and rose from his barstool. “You need a seat?” he offered.

“That's kind, but not necessary,” she said, smiling.

“No, please. I've enjoyed your singing tonight,” he said. She recognized the flare in his eyes. He was attracted to her. Great. “Please, I insist.”

“Okay, thank you.” She sat on the barstool, flashing him an appreciative grin, but nothing flirtatious to encourage him.

But sure enough, she saw his eyes linger on her breasts before he looked back up into her face and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Before Julia could decline, a Botoxed woman was there at his side. “You just offered to buy her a drink?” She glared at Julia, who shrugged carelessly in response.

He flushed, looking guilty. “I, uh . . . she's such a good singer. I was just trying to—”

“Yeah, we both know what you were trying to do,” the woman snarled. Julia imagined if the woman could move her facial features, she'd be scowling. “Whaddaya think, women are stupid?” She stormed away.

“Susie, wait!” The man followed her without hesitation.

Julia just shook her head. It was so strange to her; she didn't do anything to invite the attention of men. At least, she didn't
think
she did. But she still got hit on all the same. It had to be the job. Just like girls flocked to musicians, men seemed to be equally entranced by female singers. They saw a figure on the stage and spun their own fantasies about what she was like, putting her on an impossible pedestal. God knew that had happened to her, more than once, with disastrous results.

She glanced down to readjust the neckline of her dress. Okay, so the dresses she wore, while never lewd and always elegant, usually gave a peek of her generous cleavage. That also came with the job. Men liked boobs. She had 'em in spades. So yeah, she played the girls up a bit at her singing engagements. But by now, she thought her quiet frost would keep men away.

She
wanted
her quiet frost to keep men away. At the very least, it would weed out the weaker ones. The ones who were intimidated by a strong woman, a smart and mature woman—and unfortunately, there were many of those men.

Why did they still hit on her? Other than a fun romp once in a while, she didn't want anything more. She wanted to be left alone. No emotional ties, ever again.

She shook her head and raised her arm to catch the bartender's attention. Hallie was working the bar tonight, which was good. She made strong drinks.

 

 

After watching two sets, and having a long, friendly chat with the owner/manager, Dane had come to a definite decision. He wanted to hire Julia Shay. Her voice was pure gold, she had genuine stage presence, she was polished and poised, he liked how she carried herself, and she was stunning to look at. He'd definitely enjoyed the view as he'd sat and listened for almost two hours.

She had a beautiful face—big dark eyes to drown in, a sultry mouth, and smooth pale skin that he just knew would be soft and warm to the touch. And unlike the too-skinny women who ruled fashion pages these days, Julia was built like a
woman.
She was voluptuous. Her unbelievable breasts were to die for, and he'd bet they were real, because nothing about her seemed plastic or fake. Her slim waist led to curvy hips that were lush and inviting. She had the figure of a Greek goddess, the kind that was made for a man to lose himself in. But her physical appeal alone wasn't what made her attractive. The woman radiated confidence and sex appeal. Nothing sleazy, nothing like that—she carried herself with class. Her allure was subtle but powerful. She was hot and she knew it. She was a siren. A temptress.
Please, God,
he thought,
let her not be dumb.
That would break his damn heart. But he'd still offer her the job.

Offering her the job also had a challenge he almost wasn't up to taking—because he wanted to sleep with her, no doubt about it. In a different scenario, he'd be approaching her to spend a few nights, or even weeks, in his bed. Somehow he knew she'd be incredible. Just thinking about stripping her out of that dress sent a warm tug right to his belly, low and simmering. Dammit, he wanted her.

Which was more important?

Obviously, having her sing in his hotel . . . he'd been close to choosing between a few of the other singers he'd seen, though none had been . . . enough. This woman was. He was drawn to her, but he'd have to ignore the pull he felt; he wouldn't be able to pursue her, much less have her. Sleeping with one of his employees was a huge no-no. He didn't cross that line, ever. He sighed and swore under his breath. Well, that was it. There would be other women. There always were. Julia Shay would be off-limits.

He saw her emerge from the back and make her way through the small crowd toward the bar. She smiled at something someone said as she passed, and he sucked in a breath. Her natural smile—not the measured one she used onstage during her act, though that was stunning too—was like a flash of pure light.

Dane knocked back the last of his drink. In the future, just looking at her, possibly forming a cordial relationship with her over time, and having dirty, hot fantasies about her would have to suffice. All right, then. He rose from his table, his gaze focused on the flame-haired woman who'd just taken a seat at the bar. Time to make her an offer she couldn't refuse.

Dane moved in quietly, making sure to place himself right next to Julia at the bar. It was crowded, so he was close to her, enough for his arm to brush against her shoulder. Her head turned and she glanced at him in brief appraisal. Apparently, it only took her two seconds to decide she didn't like him. She looked away with what he took to be an expression of disdain, back down into her half-empty glass. The corner of his mouth quirked in a combination of amusement and surprised indignation. That wasn't usually the reaction he garnered from women. Especially ones he'd been picturing in a steamy position beneath him, naked and writhing, only minutes before.

“What'll it be?” the bartender, a pretty brunette, asked him. She smiled engagingly, a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes. Now
that
was the reaction he was used to.

He smiled back at her. “Dirty martini for me. And a refill of whatever she's having.” He gestured beside him with his chin.

That caught Julia's attention. Her dark eyes darted up at him as the bartender walked away. “Thanks, but you don't have to do that.”

Damn.
Her speaking voice was as sultry as her singing voice. He was a sucker for a woman with an appealing speaking voice. It did things to him. His blood started to simmer and surge throughout his body. Goddammit. He grinned softly and said, “But I
want
to do that.”

She considered him for a moment. Her face gave nothing away; she was hard to read. Then she simply picked up her dark pink drink and sipped. He watched her lips curl around the rim of the glass and a rush of lust seared him. He never thought he'd be jealous of a glass.

“What are you drinking, anyway?” he asked. “Sex on the Beach?”

A chuckle escaped her. “No. Simple old vodka and cranberry.”

He nodded and shot her a friendly grin.

Her gaze lingered on him for a second, then she looked away. Glanced at her watch. Took another sip. Looked back up at him. “Is there something you want?” she asked, a trace of annoyance in her tone. “Buying me a drink, making small talk . . . so?”

Whoa.
Direct, and to the point. A bit defensive. Feisty.
Game on.
“Yes, actually,” he said, keeping his tone amiable. “There
is
something I want.” He smiled, but she didn't smile back. He continued, unfazed. “My name's Dane Harrison. I'm about to open a new hotel on the Upper East Side. I'm looking for a singer to work in the lounge I'm opening within it. It's an upscale lounge, glamorous, high-class. It'll bring in an exclusive clientele, so I need someone fantastic. And after what I've seen here tonight, I think you'd be perfect. So the ‘something I want' is to hire you. Interested?”

There was a long beat as she gaped at him. God, she was gorgeous. He let his eyes wander over that thick red mane, her high cheekbones, her creamy, luminous skin, and those dark eyes that radiated intelligence . . . and mistrust. Now that they were so close, and she was sitting under one of the few lights in the dimly lit room, he realized her eyes weren't brown, but hazel. Gold flecks shone in the dark depths, reminding him of the tiger eye stones his sister used to collect as a kid.

“Is this a joke?” she asked in a suspicious tone.

“Not at all,” Dane replied.

She studied him for another few seconds. There was so much going on in her eyes, but all she said was “Oh.” And bit down softly on her bottom lip.

Dane's mouth went dry as an almost primal desire ravaged him mercilessly, like a flash flood. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had brought on such an intense, immediate physical reaction in him. He marveled at it, even as all of his senses started to pulse faster.
Focus, asshole. The job. You want her for the job. Stop thinking about what that gorgeous mouth is capable of. About pinning her against the bar and running your hands over every inch of her. About what her skin would feel like, what her mouth would taste like . . .