Page 16 of Audiophile

He opens his mouth, shuts it, and tries again. “I want to know more about you. That’s all. The woman who listens to my scenes and laughs about being found out. A single adult who still worries about what people will say if she lets loose. A soul who writes like she’s bleeding onto the paper.”

That he’s seen to the heart of me is terrifying. Intriguing. He sends my pulse racing. “I don’t do sex with strangers.”

He nods. “I respect that. How about coffee with strangers?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he says, stepping back. “I can take a hint. Night, Petra.”

I should walk away, but every cell in my body is screaming to go with him. I want to peek behind the curtain. If he’s curious, I’m doubly fascinated. What made him start his brand? How did he come up with his Daddy Knight persona? It’s undeniably a persona—his glimpse of vulnerability showed me that much.

Turning off my brain, I lean into an intuition I haven’t trusted in ages. “Wait. I meant no to coffee. I’m starving, and I’m going to need a glass of wine with this conversation.”

Reed smiles, flashing a hint of a dimple. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

I’m not giving up my getaway car. “Are you staying here in town?” His hotel is less than five minutes away. I swallow my pride. “I’m going back inside for wine and food. I’ll meet you there.”

Reed freezes. “I’m getting mixed signals here, and honestly,I’mnot interested in sex with strangers either.”

I laugh, embarrassed as hell, and clutch my flowers in an effort not to cover my face with my hands. “Good. No mixed signals. I’m just not talking about this in public.”

Reed’s eyes crinkle, delighting in my awkwardness. “I don’t mind paying.”

My heart is racing too fast for this to be a good decision, but I stick to it. “Don’t you need time to tidy?”

“I’ve been there all of five hours,” he protests, but he’s already walking backward. “Room 218!”

The group of people entering and exiting all stop and stare at me. I glare at Reed, my cheeks hot. “Seriously?”

He winks—winks, with an audacity I can’t believe—as he crosses the parking lot. I clutch my bouquet awkwardly while half a dozen people stare, before stalking inside to buy two bottles of wine. I might need both.

One bag of groceries later, and I’m climbing the stairs to the second floor of the hotel. I hesitate at the door. What if he’s a serial killer? What if he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer? My brain cycles through a hundred more scenarios. The increasingly heavy bag in my arms decides for me, and I knock.

Reed swings open the door with a smirk that emphasizes his dimple. “Petra.”

Jesus. Two seconds in and I have to fight my blush. “Do you normally greet people solely with their name?”

“No, but yours is fantastic,” he says as I pass him the bag. I try not to gawk at his enormous suite, complete with kitchenette and living room. It’s all beige colors and dark wood—a far cry from my ancient, creaking, water-stained furniture.

“I brought sushi. I don’t know what your favorite is, but thought we could share. They have eel sauce at the counter, by the way.” I can’t help the grin that sneaks out when his eyes flit up to mine in surprise. “You should’ve said it was only for one meal.”

His face morphs into a smile full of secrets. “You’re cheeky. I wondered what else was underneath the blush.”

Compliment or not, it warms me from my hair to my toes. I’ve missed being called something playful. “I’m a lot of things.”

“Unexpected things,” Reed notes, as he puts the flowers in water. He opens the boxes of sushi to divide up the rolls while I pour us both a generous glass of wine. I take a gulp to ease the coming interrogation.

“Okay,” I say after a few large sips and bites of sushi. “Lay it on me.”

“What an offer,” Reed’s voice is deep, decadent, and goosebumps run down my arms. “But it’s more polite to let you eat first.”

It’s part of the suave persona, but that’s not who interests me. “C’mon, put Knight away. Do you try to hook up with anyone who recognizes your voice?”

Reed frowns but smooths it away. “No. But I’ve made some connections that way in the past.”

I don’t doubt that women throw themselves at him. I already know he can give me an orgasm without touching me—his voice is the catalyst.

“I’ll bet,” I choke out. “But I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and I’m not about to break that fast for someone who’s going to compare me to three hundred other women.”

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