Page 29 of A Smooth Operator

"Thanks. Listening to the blues helps me remember those better days."

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the stage. "Music has a way of doing that, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. "So, Mr. Nightclub Owner, what's your favorite blues song?"

"Hmm," he mused, stroking his chin. "That's a tough one, but I'd have to go with The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King."

"Classic choice."

"And you?"

"At Last by the one and only Etta James."

He grinned. "I'm not surprised. You've got good taste."

Except in men.

"Where did your Dr. Andersen go?" He looked around as if waiting for Martin to show up.

"He had a date."

Remi quirked an eyebrow. "I thought he was on a date with you."

"No. We're just colleagues and friends."

"Is he a colleague first and then a friend?"

I leaned back and rested on the palms of my hands. "More colleague than a friend. I don't have many or any friends."

"Lani is a friend."

I didn't respond. He knew better than anyone that Lani was no friend of mine. We had just known each other for a long time, and I mostly felt obligated to hang out with her when she decided to request my presence.

"I don't have many friends either," he confessed.

"Oh, pull the other one, Remi."

"No," he sounded serious. "I have acquaintances. I have people to hang out with. Party with. But no friends. No one to talk to about the real stuff. I have my dad, but there are things I can't discuss with him."

"Like what?"

"Like when I'm scared."

"Of what?" The band started to play Baby, Please Don't Go, and I hummed along.

"Of failing. Of losing who I am. Of maybe never even finding out who I really am."

I felt unnerved. Why was he talking to me about this? Was this a game? Or was he really opening up?

"You don't know who you are?" I whispered.

I felt him move his lips close to my ear. "I feel like I'm always having to pretend to be strong, cool, a hot stud—what did you call me once—oh, yes, a smooth operator."

"And aren't you those things?" My heart was beating fast now. His proximity had the effect it always did. My panties were wet, and I wanted him.

"Is that who you think I am?" His fingers were on my cheek, and he turned my face to look into my eyes. "You think I'm some shallow asshole?"

I licked my lips. "I don't know you," I deflected.

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