Page 8 of His Surrender
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Jay stepped closer, and the scent of him made me weak in the knees.
How did he have such an effect on me? I was no stranger to attractive men, having had more than my fair share of bed partners, but Jay was on another level. He made me feel like a schoolboy again with my first crush.
“Remington,” I answered. “But friends call me Remi. I see you hanging around here a lot.”
“You do?” A gleam shone in his eyes. “I bet you see countless faces every night, and yet you know mine. I’m flattered you find me so memorable.” Closer still, he moved to me, and my skin tingled from his proximity.
My ass bumped into the piano as I tried to put some distance between us. I cleared my throat and glanced to the right where Johnny and the guys were setting out their instruments. “I need to finish setting up. It was nice meeting you.”
A different kind of smile crossed Jay’s face. Not flirty or even cocky… it was more curious. “I look forward to the show. Perhaps we can talk after.”
If I knew what was good for me, I’d tell him to go on his way and leave me be. He screamed playboy, and I’d gotten screwed over by one too many of those in my life. Many of them had been ridiculously handsome too, just like him. I had a tendency to gravitate toward men I shouldn’t. It was a curse. As if I wore a flashing neon sign that saiddoormatand attracted all the bad boys.
“Maybe,” I said.If some other guy doesn’t snag your attention first.I’d seen him walk out plenty of times with someone more than willing to satisfy his needs. “Excuse me.”
Then, I turned away from him, releasing the breath I’d held in my chest. I needed to put him out of my mind and focus on the gig.
“Ready, boys?” Freddie asked, readying his bass.
Johnny nodded and lifted the saxophone to his mouth. Three notes were played before it was my cue to come in on the piano. Something I loved about music was it had the ability to take away my worries, doubts, and anything going wrong in my life, even for just the time it took to play the song.
My fingers moved along the keys, a progression of chords to complement the sax before I took the lead, and then the sax, bass, and drums followed me. The first song was upbeat, and thirty seconds in I was smiling and moving my body to the music. Everything but the notes and rhythm faded away. The next song was slower, the saxophone singing with the blues.
My heart felt lighter. The fog in my head cleared. Music. It had a kind of magic nothing else did.
Five songs in, I’d forgotten all about the gorgeous playboy. Well, until I glanced up and found him watching me over the rim of his glass as he took a drink. He sat alone, a whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. I dropped my gaze to the keys, briefly, and when I looked back up, he was smirking.
“Let’s take ten,” Johnny said once the song ended. “I need a drink and a smoke.”
A few of the patrons clapped for us, while the others remained engrossed in whatever conversations they were having. That was fine with me. People enjoyed music in their own way, whether it be a good relaxing rhythm to unwind to for the night or an upbeat one to get you moving.
I walked toward the bar located near the entrance and leaned against the counter. “Can I get a water?”
“Sure thing, sweets,” Bianca, the bartender, said before filling a glass and sliding it over to me.
“Let me buy you a real drink.” Jay leaned against the bar beside me, a strand of his blond hair falling into his eyes. I also noticed a freckle beneath his jaw. One I would’ve loved to kiss.
Stop, I said to myself.
“I don’t drink.” I grabbed my water and turned to face the room, my back against the bar.
“Never?” he asked.
“Not anymore.” I wouldn’t be diving into the reason either.
He gave a small nod and brought the cigar to his lips, taking a long drag off it before exhaling the smoke.
I stared at his mouth and swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat. I wanted nothing more than to drag his ass back to my place and fuck him—to taste the lips I’d been fantasizing about. Common sense stopped me from acting on it.
After months of him coming to the 906and never once speaking with me, why was he doing so now? What game was he playing?
“What’s with the pissy look?” Jay asked.
“I’m not giving a pissy look.” I took a drink and placed the glass back on the bar. “I’m just thinking.”
“Ah, so you have resting bitch face. My friend Emery has the same thing.” He leaned toward me, his face so damn close. It was then that I noticed his long lashes. Because ofcoursehe had them. The man was hot and knew it too. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”
“Pretty head?” I backed up a step, breaking the magnetic connection that’d been drawing us closer. “Do you always come on so strong to everyone you meet?”
