One Night (3 page)

“Are you mad?” He looked at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. “It’s bloody Broadway. Every actor—,” he broke off and looked over his shoulder at the theater, “—and c-crewman would kill for the opportunity to work here. To soak in the lights and the applause. To be in this city. The better question is, ‘why wouldn’t I choose New York?’ Everything about this city screams culture and the arts.”

When he spoke, his voice carried a lilting quality usually reserved for singers. As if he were singing. Perfect breath spans and pauses. And his accent? She could listen to him drone on about the freaking weather and be perfectly content just sitting there for hours. Perhaps he was an aspiring actor, or a singer. Besides, isn’t every waitress here an aspiring actress? It
was
the city of dreams, after all.

Or so they said.

He pulled her against his side, moving her out of the way of a woman barreling toward them with a double stroller. The contact sent a jolt of desire pinging through her, and she pulled away stiffly. She shouldn’t be feeling that for another man … should she?

Flushing, she hurried for something to say. What had they been talking about again? The weather? His hot accent? Her inappropriate reaction to his touch? “Uh … I see your point. I guess I just didn’t realize the same held true for the crew members. But then again, you’re not just a crewman, are you?”

His eyes widened and he stopped walking. “I beg your pardon?”

Someone crashed into him, making Justin stumble forward. She grabbed his arm to help him right himself, but ended up being dragged with him. He managed to catch both himself and her without either of them hitting the ground, but she ended up in his arms.
Again
.

“Move the hell out of the sidewalk, dumbass,” the man snarled, shoving past them. The rest of the crowd surrounding them followed his path. New Yorkers were good at avoiding obstruction, but they were also excellent at running over obstructions—so they better move.

Justin swung her out of the way of a homeless guy pushing his cart. He held her close to his chest, his arms holding her close. She clung to him, unable to believe how vicious people were being tonight. “We better move before the Americans take down yet another Brit on the fourth.”

Justin set her down on her feet, his hands on her hips. Hers rested on his shoulders. His hard, muscular shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down with me.”

“First the puddle. Now this.” She let go of his shoulders and grabbed his hand. “I better keep you close to me before you kill us both. Come on.”

“Lead the way.” He grinned and tightened his fingers on hers. “But back on topic … how did you know I’m a singer?”

“I have a bit of experience with musicians.” Lexi grabbed his arm and made him walk before they got trampled to death. “You hope to be on stage one day, don’t you?”

“Experience, eh?” He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he eyed her and moved her out of the way of a huge guy barreling toward them. “It’s a guy, isn’t it? Tell me about him.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” She avoided his eyes. “I dated a guy in a band once. He was a jerk to the nth degree, and I never want to see him again … but he talked like you. Perfect breath spans. Perfect rhythm.”

She stopped at the intersection to wait for their turn. A man came up in front of them and yelled something about designer purses for ten bucks, and she shook her head at him.

“You’re very observant.”

“Not really. I just recognize it. It’s almost like you can’t shut it off or something. My ex was the same way—may he rot in hell.”

Something made his eyes sparkle. “I’m beginning to think your disinterest in professional actors and musicians runs a bit deeper. Maybe more along the lines of hatred.”

“Maybe.” She blew out a breath. “Fine. Yes. I’m sure there are nice ones out there, but I tend to be a little skeptical until proven wrong. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you hope to make it on stage one day?”

He hesitated, giving her a look that was hard to read. He didn’t seem to know what to say in response. Odd. A woman held her hand out and begged him for spare change. He pulled out a five and placed it in her hand. “It’s always been my dream to be on stage. Ever since I was a young boy, fresh out of nappies.”

Nappies
. God, she loved his odd little phrases and sayings—even if it made him harder to understand. The light switched, and the massive crowd crossed the street. She pulled him alongside her, not letting go. She didn’t trust him not to be killed on the sidewalk. “Are you any good?”

“I’d hope so,” he answered dryly. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. It did weird things to her insides, that simple touch. “What do you do?”

She smiled and looked down at the sidewalk. Her favorite Sabrett’s vendor waved at her, and she waved back. “I’m a stock broker. Pretty tedious, I know. But that’s me. Predictable and boring.”

“I don’t think you’re boring.” He nudged her with his elbow, shooting her a grin. God, he was hot. Did he realize what that grin did to her insides? Of course he did. He was probably a player. And she’d better remember it. “As a matter of fact, I find you quite interesting.”

“You don’t know me very well, then.” She grinned. “Or you’re just desperate for a friend.”

“Perhaps a little of both?”

She chuckled. “Maybe.”

He did that thing where he ran his thumb over her skin again. “Does your family live here in the city?”

“My sister lives in Jersey.”

“Jersey?” He shuddered and twisted his face up. “And you still speak to her? Preposterous.”

She laughed. “Are you sure you’re not a New Yorker?”

“I’m a fast learner. Besides, even a Brit,” he made air quotes with his free hand, “has good sense in these matters.”

“I see that.” She tugged him closer, her mouth aching from the big smile on her face. When was the last time she’d laughed so freely? With Hugh. The thought sobered her, and guilt swept over her without pity. She shouldn’t be laughing with another guy. She shouldn’t forget his memory, and what he’d been to her, for even a second.

Especially today.

She wondered what Hugh would think of this. Of Justin. He’d told her that if something happened to him, she should forget about him and move on. But how was she supposed to do that? To just forget? To move on? She had never even considered it. Until just now.  Until Justin.

It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be feeling this way.

“All right?” Justin gave her an odd look, and his gaze fell to her no longer smiling mouth. “A penny for your thoughts.”

She forced a smile. “I only accept quarters. Sorry.”

“Hmm.” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. “I have a dollar. May I pay up in advance for the evening?”

“I’ll take the dollar.” She snatched the money out of his hand. “But you aren’t getting my thoughts out of the deal.”

“Bollocks.” He ran a hand over his jaw, hiding a grin behind his hand. “Americans are tougher than I thought.”

“You have no idea.” She chuckled. “How long have you been here?”

“A little over three months.”

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “That’s long enough to know how we roll.”

He stared at her, as if he were trying to figure her out—and couldn’t quite fit the pieces together. Good. She didn’t want to be an open book. Not tonight. “So. Back to your sister. She’s in Jersey. Married?”

“Yeah.” Lexi checked the time. It was early enough that her favorite burger joint—which also had a bar—wouldn’t be too crowded. “And she conned me into going to see a musical tomorrow.
Les Miserables
.”

“Wait.” He tensed. “Y-You’re going to go see it? Why? You hate musicals and plays.”

She shot him a surprised look. Why did he look as if he was about to hurl all over the pavement? “Yeah,
I
do. My sister loves them, and she bought these tickets ages ago. But then she got pregnant and landed herself on bed rest.” She shrugged. “So I’m going for her, and I have to collect autographs afterwards—particularly from the guy who plays Marius. She’s in love with him.” She rolled her eyes. “
Love
. But that’s why I was in the alley tonight. I was scoping out where the actors leave. Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and dropped her hand. “Ah … I see.”

“Maybe I’ll even see you there?” She flexed her fingers. They felt strangely empty without his. “Are you visible during the play?”

He gave a strangled laugh. “Uh, yeah. A little bit.”

Damn, even his laugh sounded melodic. She would lay down all her money on him being an amazing singer. It must kill him working on a show he could easily be a part of. “Good. I can’t wait.”

He stroked his jaw. “Even though you
hate
shows?”

“Yeah.” She grabbed his hand again. She didn’t care if it was stupid—she wanted to keep him close. “Because now I’ll get to see you in action.”

“I-I see,” he said.

“Okay, back to the interesting stuff.” She pulled him closer, and his arm brushed against the side of her breast. Oh, sweet mama. That felt way too good. “Is all of your family across the pond?”

His arm stiffened under her fingers. “It’s just me. It’s been only me for longer than I can remember.”

Sadness washed over her at the flat tone of his voice. She wouldn’t put him a day over twenty-five, which meant he more than likely went to foster care for most of his life. She didn’t know what it was like in the UK, but here in America a life like his would be sketchy at best.

“That couldn’t have been an easy life.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about. It was a long time ago. Now I’m here, living the dream.”

Of being stage crew? She had a feeling that wasn’t his dream. “Maybe you should audition for a part off Broadway? Or an understudy role. Did you tell the producers you can sing?”

“Uh.” He gave an uneasy laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. His biceps flexed as he reached up, and she couldn’t look away. He obviously worked out. Accent
and
muscles? So not fair. “Yes, they know.”

“Oh. Good.” She stopped walking and pointed at the door to the restaurant. “We’re here.”

“Great, but before we go in there, I need to see something.”

She blinked up at him. “Okay. What’s up?”

He swung her out of the craziness of New York and her back hit the building. She barely had a chance to gasp before his mouth was on hers, teasing her senses. She clutched his shirt, not sure which need was stronger—the one to push him away or the one to hold him closer. To reflect upon how freaking amazing his lips felt pressed against hers, his hands on her waist—or to honor a memory of what she’d once had.

She loved that he didn’t ask or pussyfoot around the kiss. He just took. He ended the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back and grinned down at her. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Or remembering how great it had felt against hers.

“I just had to see if you tasted as good as I’d imagined.”

She licked her lips, and his gaze fell. His hands flexed on her, as if he wanted another kiss. And, God help her, so did she. “And?”

“And … you taste even better.” He pushed off the wall and she inhaled. He held the door open for her. “After you.”

She didn’t say anything, but walked around him to the door. What was there to say? He placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her inside. Through her lightweight shirt, she swore she could feel his skin on hers. And damn if it didn’t feel right, too—as if he had some unspoken right to touch her.

What was wrong with her?

The whole time they stood in line, he didn’t drop his hand. Some small part of her wanted to step away from him; uncomfortable with the sensations he awakened in her. The other, louder, part wanted him to touch her more. Everywhere. She gave the hostess her name and peeked over her shoulder to the inside of the restaurant. She’d been right about its not being too packed. At least, not by New Yorker standards. There was only a thirty-minute wait.

Justin led them to a bench on the sidewalk and they sat down. He sat so close their thighs touched. He made her feel shaky and … weird. Scary. Fun. And oh so right. She hadn’t felt this alive since Hugh. She stared at her feet. She shouldn’t be here. Hugh had only been dead for a little over a year, and this weekend would have been their wedding day.

This wasn’t right. It was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Lifting her chin up with his finger, Justin searched her face with a wrinkled brow. “Can I cash in a quarter?”

“There’s something you should know.” She took a steadying breath. He deserved to know the truth about her. “I was engaged once. We were supposed to get married this weekend.”

His hand dropped from her chin, and she missed his touch immediately. Instead of backing away from her, as she expected, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

Tears came to her eyes and she pressed her lips together tight. “He was a Marine. Need I say more?”

“I’m so sorry.”

He threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side. She stiffened, uncertain if she should let him hold her. Would he think she was looking to forget about her loss in his arms? Was she trying to do exactly that?

God, she didn’t even know.

The normal, cautious Lexi wouldn’t even think of allowing a man she’d met only minutes ago console her over the death of her fiancé. And she let him, this beautiful stranger with the amazing accent, strong arms and melodic voice. Tonight she didn’t want to be
normal
. “Yeah. I still miss him. Every day.”

He hugged her closer and cradled the back of her head in his hand. “How long ago did he die?”

“A little over a year now.” She would allow herself to enjoy his soft touch for a few seconds before she separated herself from his hold. Just a few seconds more … “It’s still hard.”

“I get that.” He squeezed her closer, resting his head on hers. “Want to talk about it?”

“Yes. No.” She sighed. Something about him made it
so
tempting to open up and pour all of her sorrows out. “Sometimes when I wake up, I forget for a second that he’s dead. Then, I roll over and see the empty bed … and I remember. And then I can’t forget, no matter how hard I try.”