A Kind of Romance (15 page)

“Hi, sweetheart. Who’s your friend?”

Benny opened his mouth and closed it as though he needed the extra time to explain who I was and how he got stuck with me. “This is Zeke. He’s—”

“I’m his boyfriend. And if I’m singing anything, it’s gonna have to be Gershwin. I think I can remember most of the big songs by heart. I’m ready.”

I was treated to a two-way incredulous stare. Tony spoke first. He ran his hands over the keys and quirked one eyebrow in question. “Since when did you get yourself a boyfriend, Benny?”

“Uh… it was recent. Very recent. One song and I’ll get him out—I mean, we’ll get out of your hair.”

Tony smiled and inclined his head subtly as he leaned into the instrument. I heard a couple catcalls from the audience but kept my gaze focused on the black and white keys. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing, but I felt committed to the crazy. I wasn’t going anywhere now.

“I suppose I can make an exception this one time. Go ahead… what do you want to sing?” He began listing Gershwin songs in a conversational tone that made my head buzz and the bar lights dance in my peripheral vision. If I wasn’t careful, I’d start thinking. Very dangerous. I had to act… either by walking out the door or singing the first song that came to mind.

“Someone to Watch Over Me,” I said confidently. I turned to assure my singing partner I knew that one well when I caught his bewildered expression. “What?”

“Um… nothing. Let’s do that one. I’ll take the first part, you take the second, and we can trade from there. We’re ready, Tony.”

Tony nodded before adjusting the microphone attached to his piano to address the crowd. “Good evening, folks! We’re going to begin with a timeless Gershwin classic for my friend Benny and his boyfriend before moving on with our regularly scheduled program—what was your name again?”

“Zeke.” I spoke loud and clear into the standing mike next to the upright.

“Take it away, boys!”

It was a good thing Benny started us off. I’d forgotten more about the song than I’d remembered, though I knew once Benny started, it would come back to me with a haunting clarity. The song’s name alone was a childhood memory akin to once-familiar commercial jingles and cartoon characters. I could practically hear my mother singing as she moved about the house, putting away laundry or straightening the messes my brothers and I made. I smiled at the thought and refocused in time to jump in on cue. The introduction was more of a speaking part than a singing one. No wonder I liked Gershwin, I mused. I did a decent job remembering the lyrics and talking my way through my part. It wasn’t until Benny sang the opening refrain that I knew I was in over my head.

He had a beautiful voice. Sweet and impassioned. And when he sang about longing to be with the right man, I sensed a soulful sincerity. I responded in kind, changing
she
to
he
and sang my heart out in an undoubtedly pitchy performance that probably made those in the front rows hope I’d wrap it up quick. I didn’t care. I was lost in the melody and the poignant lyrics of yearning. And truthfully, I was lost in Benny. He never tore his gaze from mine. His smile was shy but encouraging. I was captivated by his earnest expression, his long lashes, and the graceful tilt of his pointed chin. Everyone else faded from view. He was all I could see.

As the song ended, I was consumed again by the desire to touch him. I wanted to lean close and breathe him in. I wanted to move into his space and surround him completely. I wanted to bite him and then lick it better before running my tongue down his neck and—I held his chin gently and inched closer still before lowering my mouth over his.

The kiss was sweet. He tasted like lime juice with a hint of cherry. I let my hands drift to the back of his neck and then ran my fingers through his hair and deepened the connection. He moaned as he pulled me against him so we stood hip to hip tangled in an intimate embrace.

Oh yeah… in front of approximately seventy-five people.

I was startled out of the sensual reverie by the sound of applause. I grinned at Benny and then kissed his hand gallantly before stepping away from the piano, pulling him with me toward the exit. I stopped in front of Carter at the bar and chuckled at my friend’s dismayed expression. I gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder, which he returned with a hard nudge to my stomach and a meaningful look he accompanied with wide eyes as he gestured to the man standing next to him. Taylor.

Well, this was awkward.

Bumping into him at the farmers’ market seemed promising a couple weeks ago, but running into him at one of his favorite bars with my arm around a pint-sized fashionista was… different. Maybe Taylor and I weren’t meant to last, but I didn’t like how we’d ended. I didn’t feel the burning hatred for him that I did toward Clay. What I did feel was something closer to defeat. And I didn’t do defeat well. I grabbed Carter’s drink from his hand. Fuck, I wished I was drunk now.

I took a healthy swig of Carter’s vodka tonic before addressing my ex with a simple “How are you?”

Taylor looked good. Tall and tan with thick, dark blond, short hair and a body to die for. He was muscular in all the right places. Broad shoulders, big biceps, and a gorgeous ass. His faded designer jeans and black, fitted button-down shirt accentuated his godlike physique.

“I’m fine. You sounded—”

“Horrible. I know. Thankfully this guy was amazing.” I drew Benny into my side, slinging my arm around him in a tight hold.

“Aw shucks. Thanks, hon. I’m Benny, by the way.” He held his hand out to Taylor, who politely shook it before glancing back at me in surprise.

“Taylor. It’s nice to meet you. This is a surprise. I don’t think anyone’s heard Zeke sing outside of a shower in years. Kudos,” he remarked snidely.

Or maybe he wasn’t being snide. Maybe he was just making an astute observation anyone who knew me would attest to being the honest truth. But there was something calculating in his delivery and the tone of his voice. I didn’t like the way he shifted his gaze from Benny to me, and then back again, as though there was no way he’d be fooled into thinking I was interested in someone so completely his opposite.

I took another drink of Carter’s cocktail before shooting a knowing sideways look at Taylor. “How’s Clay?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

I stared into his eyes, wondering if I’d always been blind where Taylor was concerned. According to my father, Carter, and probably a host of others, the answer was a resounding yes. I let out a humorless huff and sucked down the rest of the vodka tonic before setting it on the bar behind Taylor. I leaned into his side, breathing in the familiar scent of his musky cologne before whispering into his ear.

“You’re a beautiful liar.”

He held my arm and turned to face me. We were so close, I could feel his breath on my lips. He brushed his nose against mine and smiled.

“I’m not lying, Zeke. If you want me, come get me. No more games.”

Huh? I stepped back to get a better look at him. Pieces of conversation, laughter, and the background music from the Sondheim sing along flooded the space between us, making it difficult to hear. Was he saying we should get back together? Two weeks ago, I would have been all over the suggestion. In a warped way, I would have felt as though I hadn’t lost. I wasn’t sure the sentiment made sense, but in that moment, I knew I didn’t want Taylor. I wanted Ben—

He was gone.

I glanced to where he and Carter had been standing a moment ago. They’d moved toward the exit and appeared to be talking to someone new. I called Benny’s name just as Taylor pulled at my arm and covered my mouth with his. I wasn’t sure the brief touch of lips could really be called a kiss. It was more of a passing collision with no chance of igniting a spark. I pulled back and shook my head before moving toward the door.

Carter grabbed my elbow before I reached the exit. “Come on, let’s hit the clubs. Benny’s date just arrived and—”

“Where’d they go?”

“They left. Wait! Where are you—Zeke!”

I barreled past a throng of patrons waiting for entry before stumbling outside onto the sidewalk. The cool evening air acted like a shot of adrenaline. My brain was buzzing. Energy pulsed through my veins, encouraging me to act. Even if it meant making a fool of myself. Again. I scanned the crowd outside the cabaret, then up and down the sidewalk before I spotted him across the street. He was standing near a taxi talking to a short, skinny guy with a mop of reddish hair wearing a black T-shirt with
Follies
emblazoned on the front. He looked like a college student, I mused, trying to remember the name Benny had mentioned at the bagel shop. Eric. I didn’t think twice before crossing to greet Benny and his friend.

“Hi there. I’m Zeke. Benny’s boyfriend,” I announced, offering my hand and a friendly smile to the surprised-looking young man. “You’re Eric, right?”

“Uh… yeah,” he answered cautiously.

Benny’s eyes went wide. He shook his head furiously but seemed at a loss for words.

“You have a boyfriend?” Eric asked incredulously.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yes, I am. I’ll wait over there while you say your good-byes, baby.” I kissed his cheek and pointed toward a nearby lamppost where I figured I could keep an eye on him at a reasonable distance.

“He’s—not himself.” Benny tossed a sharp look my way before addressing his friend. “Want to go back inside or—?”

“I don’t think your boyfriend would approve,” Eric griped with an annoyed huff.

“I wouldn’t,” I yelled, waving at the men standing a few feet away.

I could hear Benny’s melodic voice, but I couldn’t make out the words from my new position. I studied them, wondering for the first time if I’d had more to drink than I’d thought. Why else would I be making a gigantic fool of myself? Perhaps I was guilty of forcing something that wasn’t there to satisfy my bruised ego. Attraction was a two-way street. Maybe Benny’s type was more along the lines of a college theater geek than a thirty-one-year-old businessman with seemingly more pride than sense.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to formulate a new plan. Preferably one that led home. I needed a restart.

I started when someone smacked my cheek lightly and pulled at my arm. “Wake up, Zeke.”

I lifted one eyelid and gave Benny a lopsided smile. “Hiya, baby.”

He set his hands on his hips and gave me one of his signature thorough once-overs before letting me have it in Italian. I had no clue what he was saying, but the gist was probably “you suck.” He ended his tirade by pushing his hand through his hair and then raising it to hail a taxi.

“Hey! Where you goin’?” I asked in my most unpolished Brooklyn accent as I stepped away from the lamppost.

“Come on. I’m taking you home.”

“Your place or mine?” When he ignored me, I tugged at his hand. “Where’s your date?”

“Congratulations. You scared him away.”

“Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air and hooted before giving the driver my address. Then I turned to face Benny. “My evil plan worked. It’s probably for the best. He looked boring.”

“As opposed to straight-up irritating?”

I gave him a sideways, lascivious glance with raised eyebrows and was pleased when he let out a reluctant chuckle.

“You wanna know somethin’, Benny?”

“What?”

“I think you like me. And I’m beginning to I think you might be my type after all.”

“It’s dark in here so maybe you can’t see, but I’m rolling my eyes.”

“It’s a start,” I replied cheerfully.

BENNY WOULDN’T
talk to me on the short cab ride from Greenwich Village to my place. After a few attempts to draw him into a playful conversation about my singing prowess or lack thereof, I gave up. I was acting giddy enough to fool him into believing I was schnockered, and maybe that was the problem. I still hadn’t figured out how to play this now that I had him to myself. Whatever I was currently doing wasn’t helping my cause.

“This is it. Come meet the doorman. He’s—”

“No. This is where I leave you.”

“But I’m a mess. You can’t leave me like this,” I said, purposely slurring the end of my sentence.

“You stayin’ or goin’?” the cabbie asked, pointing at the meter fixed to his dashboard.

Benny blew out an exasperated breath and shook his head as though wondering how the fuck he ended up here. It was almost enough to make me regret acting like an idiot. But not quite. The lamplight shone on his dark hair and picked up a hint of glitter under his eyes. I was transfixed by his pretty exterior and his underlying steely, no-nonsense attitude. He wasn’t particularly enamored with me, but whatever kept him from pushing me to the curb gave me hope.

“Fine. Move it, Gulden. Show me where you keep your aspirin. I got a headache at the bar, and I can’t seem to shake him.”

I laughed appreciatively and led the way inside the modern lobby of my SoHo building. After a brief round of introductions with my doorman, I ushered Benny toward the elevator. We stared at each other but didn’t speak until we reached my fifth-floor loft. I unlocked the door and then threw my arm open in a welcoming gesture as I bowed theatrically.

“This, my dear Benjamin, is my humble abode. Please come in,” I announced in a British accent.

Benny smiled hesitantly before moving into the main living area. His gaze swept over the contemporary leather-and-steel furnishings. He turned toward the dining table and stared at the modern-style chandelier. It was a series of handblown glass orbs hung at varying heights over a designer distressed rectangular table. It was a statement piece worthy of
Architectural Digest
. But the look on Benny’s face indicated he might not agree. When he turned toward the pool table and the wall of bookshelves at the opposite end of the space closest to the kitchen, indifference gave way to wide-eyed admiration.

I stuffed my hands in my jeans and cocked my head. “Wanna play?”

“Maybe another time.” He bit his bottom lip and then glanced at his watch. “I have to go.”