Page 42 of Rock Strong

I chuckled, smoothing my shirt and pants. “How do I look?” I whirled around to face her. I probably looked ordinary, but the truth was, I hadn’t packed any special dresses or outfits, thinking I wouldn’t be going out that much. Funny how things changed in a matter of a week.

Rosemary, gorgeous in her own right, tilted her head to examine me. A sisterly glow seeped into her melancholy expression. “Like a woman needing to get away and find love for herself. Good for you, Abby,” she added without any sarcasm whatsoever. She was genuinely happy for me.

But had I found love? Much less the love of my life? How could she tell? How did I know this wasn’t simply lust or short-lived infatuation? I didn’t have enough experience to perceive the difference, but I knew one thing—Liam made me feel special in a way that Samuel never could in a million years.

That alone was worth pursuing.

“Thanks.” I gave Rosemary a short hug then blasted out of the hotel room, headed for the elevator, checking my reflection several times while waiting for it to arrive. It occurred to me then that this would be the first real dinner Liam and I would have together. Though we’d spent the day in Seattle and picked up food at the market, we hadn’t actually sat down to talk much.

My mother would say that was backward, that I should get to know a man thoroughly before ever giving up my “gifts,” but I wasn’t ashamed to say that, after being with Samuel, I first wanted to know how my chemistry was with Liam before proceeding. And so far, the chemistry was superb.

Explosive even.

Organic.

Atomic.

More, please.

Downstairs, he waited for me beside a column, thumbing through his phone, which he put in his pocket as soon as he saw me. “A vision of beauty.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. He wore dark pants, a light blue, button-down shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a dark jacket over it. He was freshly showered, smelled wonderful, and my stomach did backflips, somersaults, and cartwheels.

“Were you looking at our lovely first photo together?” I asked, nodding toward the phone he’d put back in his pocket.

“Ah, yes. Was it that obvious?” He shook his head in amusement. “It wasn’t too bad a shot, actually. And you looked beautiful for having just climbed out of bed.” He gave me an arm to link mine around as he led us out the back of the hotel and past doormen who nodded and bid us a pleasant evening.

“Aren’t people going to recognize you if we go out?” I asked, noticing a few curious looks from hotel guests lounging in the lobby.

“Maybe, but we’ll walk fast. The restaurant is expecting us. There’s a private room, and Nathan is nearby in case we need him. So let’s go.”

We walked through the twilight-bathed streets of Vancouver. I felt light on my feet, cautious and vigilant of paparazzi, but happy. Our focus was to get there quickly, not so much conversation at this point, but I also felt like I didn’t need to talk constantly. Walking with Liam was like being with someone I’d known forever, a best friend, and that thought made me smile.

“Did you practice your piece today?” he asked.

I loved the fact that he cared this much about my audition. “Yes. Many times. It’s getting much smoother. It’s not an easy composition. Quite complex, but I made it that way on purpose. Needs to be.”

“There is nothing simple about you, and your piece should match that enigmatic, unpredictable style that is you.”

Swoon. Flattery would get him everywhere.

“Oh, yes, unpredictable, that’s me.” I often wished I could act more spontaneously instead of sticking to my tried and true ways.

We turned the corner and paused before a storefront that had a barrel tile awning. Liam looked up to make sure we had stopped at the right place. “Here we are.”

“Good evening, Mr. Collier. Happy to meet you, sir.” The maître d’ of the upscale Cuban restaurant La Cocina Cubana ushered us to a semiprivate room upstairs in the back, away from gawkers but close enough so we could still enjoy a view of the dining room, not completely blocked off.

“Abby, trust me, you’re complex. Straitlaced but passionate, practical but artistic. That’s key to creativity. Nobody can pin you down. I like that about you.”

“I never considered that. You’re the same way.” I noted the crinkle in his eyes that seemed to appear only when he was with me.

“Two peas in a pod.” Liam worked my chair back and in again as I sat.

Our waiter, Hector, handed us menus and told us about the specials. The Bistec de Palomilla sounded delicious. Paired with platanos maduros and white rice, I probably wouldn’t eat it all, but I loved that I’d get to try it, that he’d chosen such a unique place. All around were pieces of art on the walls depicting scenes of Havana and potted palm trees. Romantic and enigmatic, like Liam.

“Listen…” He took my hand. It was hard not to feel like I was in some fairy-tale dream. “You’re more spontaneous than you give yourself credit for.” He leaned forward to whisper, “And that blow job you gave me last night? Second to none.”

“Stop, you’re lying.” I looked down, knew I was blushing.

“Abby, I swear to God. It was beautiful. I didn’t expect it. That just goes to show that you can be impulsive if you feel like it.”

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