Page 69 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” Deliberately, I acted as if I’d misunderstood him as I ran my fingertips over the soft cotton of his shirt. That buzz was back again, zinging up my arm. Pulling my nipples tight against my tops in a reaction I was helpless to control. “It was very good for me. And I have this bad habit of liking to feel good.” I leaned up on my tiptoes, glad I’d put my boots back on. “You should try it sometime.”

He grabbed my hip and dragged me against him, allowing me to feel the hard column of his erection. “Oh, I have. I could try it every fucking day for the rest of my life and not get enough.”

I was still processing that when a sound near the doorway caught my attention. His too.

Rather than moving back, I dug my fingers into Nash’s shirt and held on when he turned to see who was joining us.

Gee, Lindz, trying on that ‘needy chick’ nametag for size?

“Nice to see you again, Lo.” Nash’s tone did not register joy. Nor did he give me a look to drop my hand. He probably liked Logan seeing me pawing him.

I moved back and pulled my hair into a twist, using the band on my wrist. I was not going to be part of any drama. At least while Logan was watching.

But Nash might want to button his fly with that hard-on he was sporting. Then again, with him, who knew? It was probably a badge of pride.

“So, how’s it going in here?” Logan strolled up onto the stage and crossed his arms. “Don’t see any broken chairs and the piano’s intact, although you wouldn’t harm this old girl.” He patted the piano as if she were a fondly remembered lover.

“We’re fine. As we would’ve been fine if you hadn’t treated us like children who needed a timeout.” I rolled my eyes at Logan.

The gesture was lost on him, however, since he’d chosen that moment to kick at the piano cover still on the stage. Nicely revealing the lacy bra on the floor.

Oops.

Logan leaned over to pick it up. Without saying anything, he held it out to me. I grabbed it and tucked it into the back pocket of my pants.

“We have songs.” I crossed my arms. “Good songs. Hell, great songs.”

“Glad to hear it. Breaking the tension helps.”

I said nothing. Nash definitely said nothing. He didn’t even have the grace to seem embarrassed as he casually did up the button above his fly. Instead, he stood there with his chest puffed out and a smirk on his kissable lips.

Was it too late to throttle him?

When no one spoke, Logan cracked his knuckles and let out a long breath. “All righty then. I’ve got someone coming in soon, so how about you show me what you’ve got? Metaphorically speaking,” he added, his lips twitching at the corners.

Smug bastard. He’d probably guessed we would fuck if we were left alone.

Lo as a matchmaker? Or as a problem solver. I didn’t know which label I preferred when I was half of the problem he’d figured out how to handle.

Not half. Barely a quarter. The rest belonged to Nash and his mile-long…attitude.

Time to demonstrate that at least one of us could be a professional at all times. Even if she wasn’t wearing her bra.

Without sparing either o

f them a glance, I sat at the piano. I didn’t need the notebook. We’d run through both songs so much that I would probably be dreaming about them tonight.

I started with the holiday one. It didn’t sound as good without Nash’s deep, raspy baritone to complement my soprano. Even the music itself seemed less rich. As if just his fingers on the keys added a quality I couldn’t produce solely on my own.

I was capable. More than. But together, we were more.

Pity that I was probably the only one who realized that.

When I finished the Christmas song, I played the other. And I sang like I did in the shower, without a thought for breath control or pitch or anything but the pleasure of the process.

If they didn’t like it? Didn’t matter. I was doing it for me. And it was far less awkward than standing around watching Logan trying not to laugh and Nash preening while my bra strap hung out of my back pocket.

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