Playing With Desire

“Appreciate the apology.” His posture softened. “Doesn’t change the fact that you want more than I can give you. You deserve to be happy. I want that for you, but it’s not something I’m prepared to offer. Sorry, love.”

She crossed the room and stood in front of him again. “I don’t need anything more. I can be happy with things the way they were.”

“No, you can’t.” Liam stood. He gripped Karina’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “And we both know it.”

He walked to the door and unlocked it.

“What about Maya?” Karina’s voice was shaky. “Can you give her what she deserves?”

He slipped out of her dressing room without a response. It was a question best left unanswered.

Chapter 4 (#uced076b5-ef8f-5f03-99a9-b99c4cb1cfe6)

By the time he found Maya, she’d drunk two glasses of champagne and met nearly half the ballet company. They stepped outside the theater and into the warm night air. The salty breeze coming off the Atlantic Ocean rustled loose strands of her hair. Her skin glistened in the light of the moon shining brightly above. She’d been practically giddy back at the party. Suddenly, she seemed sad.

“What’s wrong?”

Maya shook her head. The knot she wore at the back of her head had loosened and hung low over her right shoulder. “Nothing. Tonight was incredible. Just like you promised. Thank you. I had a wonderful time.”

“What, you think the night is over? It’s not even midnight.”

“Way past my bedtime.” She laughed.

“That saddens me deeply.” He chuckled. “Besides, it’s your birthday. That warrants an exception, wouldn’t you say? You’d planned to go to a jazz club with your sister tonight. So let’s do it.”

“You listen to jazz? Really?” Arms crossed, she regarded him as if he were trying to convince her that the earth was flat.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m a man of many interests. Classic American jazz happens to be one of them.”

“Who’s your favorite jazz artist?”

“Miles Davis, though I’m also partial to John Coltrane and Dave Brubeck.”

“Favorite Miles album?” She narrowed her gaze.

He smiled. “Is that even a question? Kind of Blue, of course.”

Shoulders relaxed, she nodded her agreement. “There’s a small jazz club near the waterfront that plays live music on Friday nights. The place is a dive, but the music is excellent and the martinis are fantastic. We missed the earlier jazz band, but they play Latin jazz at midnight. There’ll be dancing, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Spent a few holidays knocking about South America. My samba is a little rusty, but I do an impressive mambo.” He winked.

“Is that right?” She smiled, eyes twinkling. “Well, that’s something I seriously need to see.”

At the jazz club, the ten-piece band crowded the small stage. The vocalist belted out a song over the blare of the horns and the rhythm of the bongos and congas. The dense Friday night crowd, comprised mostly of tourists, pressed in all around them. However, Liam’s focus was on only one thing: Maya.

She was stunning in that strapless red dress. Released from the knot, her loose curls grazed her bare shoulders as she swayed her hips to the music in ways that made portions of his anatomy sit up and take notice. She was relaxed. Openly flirtatious.

The alcohol she’d consumed no doubt contributed to her relaxed state of mind. Yet, she wasn’t drunk. She was less guarded. More comfortable in her own skin.

On the dance floor, she owned her beauty. Embraced her sensuality. When they first met, she almost seemed embarrassed by it.

The band took a break and the female vocalist started singing a slow romantic ballad accompanied only by the guitarist and keyboardist.

Maya turned to leave the dance floor, but Liam caught her hand in his. Turning back to him, she smiled. One arm slung low across her back, he pulled her against him. He gripped her hand, intoxicated by her soft, floral scent and the delicious sensation of her body nestled against his as they swayed to the beat.

Her initial tension gave way. She relaxed, leaning in to him. “So what got you interested in jazz?”

“My best mate, Wesley. He’s an American expat. We met in boarding school at thirteen and eventually became roommates. His dad was a jazz musician. Took off when he was around ten. Sometimes Wes would play the old classics. Music his dad listened to when he was growing up. His way of holding on to the good memories, I guess.”

“I listened to jazz with my dad every Saturday morning while he tinkered in his workshop in the garage. Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, Ella Fitzgerald, Etta James. Seems like one of them was the soundtrack to every important conversation I’ve ever had with my dad.” A wistful smile lit her brown eyes.

“Does your sister like jazz, too?”

“No.” The warm smile in her eyes was gone. “Kendra hates jazz for the same reason I love it. It reminds her of our father. She tolerates it on special occasions like my birthday.”

“Then she is a very good sister, indeed.”

“She is. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

He pulled her closer and they continued to dance in companionable silence. The night had turned out different than he expected. Then again, so had she. Maya was opinionated, yet charming. Astute, yet amusing. She possessed a curious sensuality she seemed terrified to acknowledge, let alone explore. There was nothing he wanted more than to help her do just that. His desire for her coursed through his veins like adrenaline.

She broke the silence between them. “I have to admit, you are a pretty good dancer.”

“Pretty good?” He scoffed. “You haven’t seen the half of what I can do.”

Liam twirled Maya, pulled her in close, then dipped her, his face inches from hers as he held her in his arms. Her eyes widened in surprise. His gaze dropped to the little O her mouth formed as her breath came in short bursts. He returned his gaze to hers and slowly brought her vertical again, neither of them moving.

His heart pounded. There was something in her eyes. Something he couldn’t explain. Liam pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. Maya went completely still, then slowly relaxed, slipping her arms around his waist, beneath his suit jacket.

She tasted sweet and rich like a decadent dessert you couldn’t get enough of but knew you would regret in the morning. His mind raced, wanting to taste her skin. To be enveloped in her scent.

Her kiss, raw and hungry, evoked a reaction from his body. He wanted her. But not here, not like this.

He tore his mouth from hers, despite his body’s insistence for more.

Maya shuffled backward, fingers pressed to her parted lips.

The kiss had taken them both by surprise. He wasn’t in the habit of snogging in the middle of a crowded dance floor. He should apologize for being so forward. Still, he wasn’t sorry he’d done it. “I don’t know what came over me.” That much is true. “But—”

Before he could finish his sentence, one man swung at another man who stood directly behind Maya. Only the man was ducking out of the way.

Liam pulled Maya to him. The man’s fist just missed the back of her head. He shoved her behind him, his vision blurred with rage.

“Hey, asshole!” He snatched the man by his collar. “You nearly struck my date.”

The man smelled as if he’d bathed with a bottle of gin. He swung at him, but Liam blocked his punch and shoved the man backward. The second man took the opportunity to land a sucker punch that connected with the first man’s jaw. A third man—a friend of the first—landed a punch that connected with Liam’s cheekbone. A throbbing pain exploded behind his left eye.

It’d been a long time since he’d taken a hit like that.