Any Way You Want It (7 page)

When she didn’t speak after several seconds, he added, “Or I could have just thought you seemed like a Cheap Trick fan.”

Still she didn’t speak. Did he really mean what he’d said? He was interested in her?

“Really, you decide which one you’re comfortable with,” he said, looking decidedly awkward. “I’m okay with whichever one will get you back in the bar.”

She studied him, trying to read whether he was toying with her. All she could see was sincerity.

“Please,” he said as if to reinforce her thoughts. He gestured back to the bar.

He’d sung that song in honesty? The irritation, the humiliation, drained from her. She’d known what to do with those emotions, but what she was feeling now…she had no idea.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Why? Because I feel bad that I embarrassed you. And I’d like you to hang around.”

“No. Why are you interested in me?”

He frowned as if the question made no sense to him. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re pretty. You seem nice and intelligent and interesting.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Ah, but that’s why I want you to come back to the bar. So I can get the chance to know you.”

Maggie realized she wanted that too. Very much. And frankly, the desire scared her. She shouldn’t be interested in a guy like this. Maybe it wasn’t an invitation to heartbreak, but it was definitely an invitation to more than she could handle.

Ren moved his hand from her arm, only to catch her fingers. “Come on back. I won’t dedicate any more songs to you. I promise. I’ll even admit that the sentiment of that one was a little presumptuous.” His grin widened to full Cheshire cat glory. “Although sincere.”

Maggie felt her cheeks burn even more, if possible.

“Okay,” she heard herself say, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed as he began to tug her down the street. His abruptness stunned her for a second, but she managed to gather her wits and dig in her heels.

He halted, turning to give her an inquiring look.

“I am going back with you,” she said. “But only because I left my friends there, and I don’t want to be rude.”

Ren’s eyebrow raised, stating without words that he didn’t totally buy that, but then he said, “Like I said, whatever will get you back there works for me.”

Again she found herself being towed toward the bar. As they got closer, she noticed that Erika and Jo waited in the doorway. Jo started forward, but Erika stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Maggie looked at her own arm where Ren had touched her. The skin there still tingled, but the sensation was nothing when compared to how her fingers felt surrounded by his longer ones.

“Hey, Erika and Jo,” Ren greeted her friends before Maggie could speak to them or they to her.

“I really need to make up for upsetting Maggie here,” he said offering them an endearing smile.

“Could you please make sure she stays so she can see that I’ll be on my best behavior?”

Erika smiled back. “Sure.”

“If she wants to stay,” Jo added. She wasn’t as impressed with his easy charm.

Maggie appreciated both her friends’ attitudes. It was nice to be both defended and supported.

And since her brain still wasn’t functioning properly, she could possibly need either one.

They all entered the bar, and as soon as some of the patrons saw Maggie and Ren, they began to applaud.

Heat burned Maggie’s cheeks once again, but Ren simply lifted a hand in greeting. He leaned toward her. “See, you’ve got to stay or everybody’s going to think I’m some kind of monster, driving away a sweet person like you.”

Maggie didn’t respond, but the word sweet resonated with her. The fortune-teller, Hattie, had used that word to describe her too. Good Lord, now that was hardly a sign.

He squeezed her hand, then released her. With a quick curl of a smile, he bounded back onto the stage.

“Okay,” he called out over the microphone, “who wants some rock and roll?”

The crowd cheered, and the band went right into a song. Maggie followed her friends to the bar, staring up at the stage, still not understanding everything that had just happened.

She still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the whole thing was some horrible trick.

She turned to the bar and the bartender with the antenna hair came over immediately. The antennae were in full working order, obviously.

“What can I get you?” She smiled widely, as if they were old friends.

“Do you have wine?” Maggie asked, surprised her voice sounded so normal.

“Really bad wine,” the bartender answered honestly.

“I’ll take it.”

The bartender bounced away.

“So what did he say?” Jo asked.

Maggie took a deep breath. “That he was interested in me.”

“Just like the psychic said.” Erika grinned, then she glanced around the crowded room. “Maybe my blond-haired, dark-eyed prince is here too.”

“What?” Jo asked, thoroughly confused. She hadn’t gotten the whole scoop on the readings, because upon returning to the hotel for a nap, she discovered her sailor waiting in the lobby. That did a whole lot to make up for him missing breakfast, so Jo had spent the day with him.

“The psychic saw Ren in Maggie’s cup.”

Jo still looked confused.

Erika started to tell Jo about the reading Hattie had given, but Maggie cut her off. “The reading was just a fluke.”

Erika gaped at her friend. “Having you look into the cup, pointing to a pattern in the leaves and saying ‘That looks like a face with long hair and an eye’ was a fluke?”

All three friends looked up at the stage. Ren stood at the mic, his head down. When he lifted his head, his hair fell over one side of his face, leaving only his eye with the white lashes visible. He looked directly at Maggie, almost as if could hear them and was presenting the image that had been described.

“And that happening, right this minute, that was a fluke too, right?” Erika said, still gaping up at the stage.

“Here’s your wine,” the bartender shouted from behind the bar to be heard over the guitar solo taking place on the stage.

Maggie gladly reached for the wine, taking a long gulp. Then she reached for her purse, but the bartender lifted a hand to stop her.

“You’re Ren’s girl,” she called. “I’ll just put it on his tab.”

Maggie started to tell her that, no, she wasn’t Ren’s girl, but apparently the hair antennae went off and the bartender bounded away to help another customer.

“The psychic really said that?” Jo asked, seeming as stunned by the idea as Maggie had been—

and still was. She took another swallow of the acrid wine, then nodded.

Ever-practical Jo considered that for a moment, then stated quite reasonably, “Maybe we should stick around and check all this out.”

Maggie just stared at the stage, gulping her wine like it was juice.

Maggie now understood what the phrase “liquid courage” meant. She was sipping her third glass of the cheap, vinegary wine. It was tasting decidedly better with each glass.

“I think you should slow down,” Jo warned her, leaning toward her to be heard over the loud notes of a Kansas song.

Maggie nodded, but she felt a lot better than she had. She suspected there was a fine line, however, and if she kept going she might get a little outrageous.

She looked back up at the stage, watching Ren’s every move. Would that necessarily be a bad thing? She grimaced at her own train of thought and resisted taking another sip of her drink.

She really liked the way he moved, and his hair. Who knew hair could be so sensual? She swayed with the music. With him.

She really liked the fact that his eyes kept finding hers in the crowded room.

“I think I am going to have a fling with him,” she suddenly announced. Then she looked down at her plastic tumbler of wine. Okay, she was really too late on this outrageous thing, wasn’t she?

“I think you should,” Erika said.

Jo didn’t say anything, but Maggie didn’t get the feeling she was opposed to the idea. She seemed to still be considering the pros and cons of the plan.

It was good someone was. Maggie considered asking her what she thought. After all, between the warm hum in her veins from the wine and watching Ren, she was now feeling pretty good.

And she kept thinking the idea of touching him was pretty good too.

But before she could ask Jo what she thought, Ren announced that the band was taking a break.

And unlike last night, as soon as he made the announcement, he stepped down from the stage and headed right to her.

“Hi,” he said, and stopped an arm’s length away from her. Which Maggie found very disappointing. She liked it when he touched her. Just remembering how close he’d been when they were out on the street made her skin tingle.

She stepped closer, even as she told herself not to; that he might not want her getting closer. He didn’t move away, instead he leaned toward her, his mouth very close to her ear, his hair brushing hers.

“What are you drinking?” His breath was warm against her skin.

She closed her eyes briefly as a shot of desire ricocheted through her body.

“Wine,” she managed.

He straightened, reaching for her hand. He lifted both her hand and glass to his mouth and took a sip, then grimaced.

“I know a place that serves much better drinks. Want to go there with me after this last set?”

“Sure,” she said, both scared and thrilled with the idea of being alone with him. Funny how quickly her wine-fueled bravado could evaporate.

He grinned, obviously pleased she had agreed. “Good. I’ll try to make this set a short one.”

She nodded.

He reached for her hand again, and again lifted both her fingers and her glass to his mouth. He took a lingering sip of the cheap wine, watching her reaction over the rim of the cup.

She breathed in slowly through her nose, trying to calm her thundering heart. God, he was so sinfully sexy.

When he finished, he grinned again. “Oh yeah, the place I’m going to take you is so much better.”

He gazed at her a moment longer, then nodded at Jo and Erika and turned to bound back up onto the stage.

“Yeah,” Jo stated, her voice dead certain, “you are so going to have a fling with him.”

R en rushed through the set, winding it up as soon as he could. There was no way he was going to risk Maggie changing her mind about going out with him tonight.

She hadn’t moved from her spot at the bar, though, and that had to be a good sign. He knew that she wanted him. He could sense the desire in her energy when he touched her, but he also felt hesitation. Uncertainty.

There was no way he could let her pull away now. He hadn’t wanted anyone this much since Annalise. And frankly, that should have scared the shit out of him. It should set off warning bells and raise giant signs that said, Stop now.

As he walked off the stage, he let his gaze stray out the door toward the hotel across the street.

For a second, he saw the opera house as it had been. Annalise had performed there. The hotel and the memory of the long-gone opera house served as a reminder why he couldn’t let anything beyond a brief affair occur between himself and any woman.

And still he kept walking toward Maggie. He knew more now, he rationalized. He knew things had to stay light and fun and satisfying for both of them. He couldn’t let Maggie get too close to him, too involved. He wouldn’t. She would walk away safe and sound.

Maggie offered him a small smile as he approached, the sweet curve of her lips rocketing his desire for her as high as if she’d touched his bare skin.

He wanted this woman more than he’d ever wanted Annalise, he realized. Annalise had never made him ache with a mere smile. But he could handle this. And in the end, Maggie would leave and that would be that.

But he had to have her for now. Her energy called to him, drawing him to her. And helplessly, he was going.

“Are you ready?” he asked, unable to resist reaching out and touching her. Just a hand on her arm. Her skin was warm and smooth under his palm. His desire leapt, almost painful in its intensity.

“Yes.” She nodded, her eyes straying to where he touched her, then back to his face.

Again he felt her desire too, strong but mixed heavily with uncertainty. Still, she rose from her barstool to go with him. Then she looked at her two friends, still seated there.

Ren paused. The polite thing to do would be to ask her friends to join them. But damn, he wanted Maggie to himself.

“Did you ladies want to join us?”

The black-haired one—Erika—immediately shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m really exhausted.

I’m just going to head back to the hotel.”

The one with the short brown hair also shook her head. “Me too. But thanks.” She turned to Maggie. “You have your cell phone, right?”

Maggie patted the small purse she held.

Ren smiled, again appreciating her friends’ protectiveness. Delicate butterflies needed to be looked out for.

“Okay,” he said. “Ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Ready.”

And Ren couldn’t help feeling like they were both preparing for something much more powerful than drinks at his favorite bar.

Maggie wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected when Ren had asked her to join him for a drink.

She supposed she imagined something a bit more elegant than the bar they’d just left. Instead they ended up in a back room of a small dive bar on one of the side streets off Bourbon.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Ren said as if he was reading her mind. “But it’s quiet, it has good drinks, and Sheri doesn’t mind the drunken ramblings of all the obnoxious old musicians who hang around here until the wee hours of the night.”

“You’re not old,” Sheri said, offering Maggie a conspiratorial wink. She looked like a woman who’d heard a lot and wasn’t shocked by much of anything.

Ren directed Maggie to a table and sat down beside her, without placing an order.

Maggie wasn’t quite ready to go without a little liquid courage, now that she’d discovered it. But before she could ask if they were going to order, Sheri appeared and placed a drink in front of each of them.