Somewhere in Between (Madison Square #1) (9 page)

Madeline smiled, spotting something over Gwen’s shoulder. “Ms. Stevens, come. I see your father. Let’s say a quick hello,” Madeline said, reaching for Gwen’s arm and pulling her away as quickly as possible. An evil grin spread wide across Gwen’s lips as her eyes shifted to Drew. She wiggled her fingers at him as Madeline dragged her off.

Drew let out a long breath. “I have to admit, that was kind of hot. I couldn’t tell if you guys were going to fight or make out. Either would have worked for me.”

I punched him in the arm. He rubbed it, pretending to be hurt.

“Well, now you have met Bitchface in all of her surgically enhanced glory.”

Look, there’s nothing wrong with plastic surgery. I have contemplated it myself many times, usually while wearing a bikini, but this girl was a walking disaster. She was like a sarcophagus, a hard, beautifully painted outer layer hiding the shriveled corpse underneath.

Drew put one hand in his pocket, leaned toward me, and whispered, “Your boss is smashed.”

“I know, right?”

***

I was determined to enjoy the rest of my evening and clear all thoughts of Gwen from my mind.

It was turning into such an incredible night. I met the most amazing artists and musicians and spent most of the time gazing at them in wonder and listening to their stories about botched art installations and obsessive symphony groupies. Who knew classical violinists had groupies? I was in heaven!

I fell head over heels for a man named Charlie Peterson. His father played jazz trumpet for the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra when he was a kid. I mean, the man shook Sinatra’s hand!

Drew stuck with me for bit, but I was so in awe, I was hanging on every word of anyone willing to talk to me. So, eventually, he left me to worship and kiss my temple. He smiled and told me he would find me later.

After dinner was over, the band started to play some of my favorite old songs. I was a sucker for jazz classics. I accepted an offer to dance from a man named Chester who played Patrick Dennis in The West End production of
Mame
. I found my nerd Nirvana.

As Chester whirled me around the floor, I caught Drew’s eye for a moment. He stood at the edge of the floor holding a glass of champagne, talking to an older gentleman and his young wife. He raised a hand in a brief wave, watching me for a moment before returning to his conversation.

When the dance was over, I thanked Chester, who bowed graciously, and made my way to the bar. The bartender set a glass of champagne down in front of me while I swayed to “Isn’t It Romantic?”

“Alex McCabe,” a slow, deep voice said from my right. I turned to see who it was and was captivated by a set of gorgeous gray eyes.

“Peter Russell,” I said as he stepped forward, resting his arm on the bar in front of me.

He raised two fingers to the bartender. “Scotch, neat.”

As the bartender took off to get his drink, Peter turned to me with a sexy half smile.

Peter and I dated briefly in college. He was charming, obviously good-looking, and a fan of sorority girls, which was one of the reasons why we dated briefly. He still had the good looks and charm. Hopefully his tastes in women had changed in the years since graduation.

“You look incredible.” He took a step back, taking me in from head to toe.

“So do you,” I replied with a smile, and damn did he. His light brown hair was clean-cut and had that Clark Gable quality, even if he did use a bit too much product. He had a nice smile and strong features. His broad shoulders filled out his tux nicely and the thin silver tie he wore highlighted his eyes. He definitely knew how to accent his best features, a sure sign that self-esteem was not a problem for him.

“How are you?” I asked. “I heard you moved to London.”

“I just moved back, actually. I was offered a position with Franklin & Burke.”

Franklin & Burke was a prestigious publishing house downtown. Madeline redid their main lobby a few years ago.

“Congratulations,” I said, taking a sip of champagne.

“Thank you.” He eyed me with obvious interest. He had definitely gotten better looking over the years, or maybe it was just the lack of cargo shorts and Abercrombie t-shirts. I didn’t really care, I was enjoying the attention.

“What have you been up to?” He took my elbow and gently steered me away from the bar.

“I’m working for Madeline Grant Interiors.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I couldn’t tell if he was surprised or impressed. I went with impressed. It was better for my ego.

“Maybe you could help me with something, then.” He took a small step closer and lowered his voice. “I just moved in to this amazing loft. It’s completely bare right now. I haven’t had a chance to do a thing with it. Maybe you can come by and give me some ideas.”

He cocked his head to the side, a slow, sexy grin lighting his face, but all I was thinking about were design concepts for an open floor plan.

He had found my weak spot, a project. I love a project. It’s something I can get lost in. Interior design is my drug. My parents were realtors and, as a kid, one of my favorite things to do was to help them stage homes for sale. I was fascinated by how you could change not only how a room looks, but how it feels with some color and the right furniture placement.

The moment I walked into a space, ideas would flood my head to the point where I would attempt to discreetly rearrange the furniture or hide unpleasant knickknacks. My parents put the kibosh on that one when they caught me taking down the drapes in my grandmother’s dining room during her wake. I couldn’t help it. The room needed more light.

“I would love to!” I said as the excitement bubbled over. He looked pleased.

The music slowed, and the band leader announced the final song of the evening. It was slow and sweet, the soft notes floating gently through the room.

“Would you like to dance?” Peter asked, extending his hand to me. I smiled and let him lead me to the floor. He turned to face me, slipping his left hand to my back and pulling me in close. I placed my hand on his shoulder as we began to sway and twirl around the floor.

Peter pulled me in closer, our faces only inches apart as he led me expertly across the floor. We talked a bit as we danced. It was easy—no frills, no pressure. He seemed great, if not a little pretentious, but I was enjoying myself.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight.”

“Me too.” I smiled.

“Have dinner with me?” he whispered, leaning close to my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “We can catch up on old times and talk about ideas for my loft.”

“Um…”

I was a little conflicted. The idea of going out with him wasn’t really what had caught my attention. He was nice enough and good-looking, but the man oozed bullshit. I could tell from the way he looked at me and the not-so-subtle way he checked out other women around us that he was just the kind of guy who would tell you anything you wanted to hear just to get you into bed. Although it had been a while for me…

What would be the harm in getting a little bit of attention, the chance to design a downtown loft space from scratch, and get a little something all with no strings attached?

I smiled up at him, resigned. “I’d love to.”

The song ended and Peter took a small step back, giving me a small bow while keeping hold of my hand. “I look forward to it.” He pressed a brief kiss to my knuckles. I had a feeling this guy was more frog than prince.

A hand landed on my shoulder and I turned to see a very pissed off Drew. His normally bright blue eyes were narrow and full of fire, and not in a good way. His lips were set in a hard, straight line and his jaw was tense as he stared Peter down, who still had a hold on my hand.

“Hey,” I said, gesturing to Peter, “look who I found.”

Peter smiled, extending his hand to Drew. “Collins, it’s good to see you.”

“Russell,” Drew grunted, fixing Peter with a sharp glare. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, ignoring Peter’s outstretched hand.

Either the men shared an extreme dislike of one another or this was some sort of intimidation game. Either way I had to break this up, and fast.

Peter turned his attention back to me, luckily sparing me from having to throw myself between the two of them. “Alex, it was lovely to see you.” He stepped forward, softly kissed my cheek, then turned and headed for the exit.

I turned my attention to Drew, who was scowling at Peter’s back as he watched him disappear into the crowd. When he was satisfied that Peter was gone, he finally looked at me “You ready?”

I blinked. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“What was with the testosterone-fueled stare down?” I narrowed my eyes at him and propped my hand on my hip. What the hell had gotten into him?

“Nothing.” Drew shook his head. “I just don’t like the guy.”

Then he turned, heading for the exit. I stood there for a second, a little stunned. I had no idea what was going on. I shook off the shock and followed him out of the door to the waiting car.

***

The ride home was dead silent. Drew just looked out the window, his hand folded beneath his chin, the tension still clear in his jaw. I had no idea what was wrong with him. Had something happened with Peter I didn’t know about? Tonight was a big night for me and no way would Drew go through all of that effort to get me here just to ruin it over something petty, so whatever happened between them had to be big. I was going to get to the bottom of this. Drew obviously wasn’t planning on telling me, so I guess I would just have to get it out of Peter.

The driver dropped us off in front of Drew’s apartment. I was a little miffed at him for ruining what was an amazing night. I crossed my arms across my chest, waiting impatiently for him to come clean or even just say something, anything. Drew just stood there, his head hung low, hands in his pockets.

I sighed and headed across the square, toward home. Fine, if he wanted to end the night in silence, then that was just what he would get. Drew jogged to catch up to me, still looking down at his feet as we walked quietly toward my building.

His sour mood was killing my buzz. I tried to focus on something, anything else, as I glanced around the square. It was late and the square was empty and lit by a few soft lamp posts. It was really beautiful. I looked up. The sky was full of stars peeking through the trees overhead. It was a peaceful setting. Luckily, it did a good job of calming me down.

When we reached our place at the center of the square, Drew stopped. I took a few more steps before I realized he wasn’t following.

“We never got to dance,” he said, his eyes focused on his shoes, his voice so soft I barely heard him.

“What?”

He looked up, meeting my eyes. He took a few steps and slowly closed the gap between us. “Dance with me?” He offered me his hand. His voice was smooth and sure, but his eyes were pleading.

“Here?” I was a little confused. Something was wrong with him. He’d gone from rude to solemn to…I don’t know what, but it was freaking me out. I looked around the square, looking for something to tell me what the joke was. It was like I was being Punk’d and any minute now, Sean would jump out from behind a tree with a video camera, but we were alone and the square was quiet.

I studied him, trying to figure out his end game, but I got nothing, just that same pleading look. “There’s no music,” I pointed out.

Drew smiled and took his phone from his pocket, typing something I couldn’t see. He must have found what he wanted because his smile widened and a small chuckle escaped his throat. With one more tap, the opening bars to “La Vie en Rose” started to play through the tinny speakers. I loved that song. It was, by far, one of the most romantic songs ever made, and it seemed strangely appropriate.

Drew set his phone down on the bench next to us and reached for my waist, pulling me in close. He wrapped his arms around me as I slid my hand up his chest to his shoulder. Slowly, we began to sway. He pressed his hand to my back, pulling me in tighter against him. His fingertips were electric, sparking every nerve in my body to life.

Louis Armstrong warbled in the background and Drew pressed his cheek gently to mine. A small contented sigh escaped my lips and I closed my eyes, feeling the slight roughness of his cheek and the warmth of his hands.

We danced and swayed as Drew slowly led me around the square, our bodies in total sync with one another. It was too easy to get lost in the moment. Being in his arms and dancing underneath the stars in a place that was just ours seemed to overtake all of my senses. The square blurred around me and all I could feel was the soft touch of his fingers as they grazed my back’s naked skin, the warmth of his breath against the side of my neck.

My body relaxed into him, my lips parted, and my heart pounded as he began to softly sing the lyrics in my ear, asking me to give him my heart and soul.

The way I was reacting to him was not normal. The softest touch from him had my body screaming for more. I clung to his shoulder, feeling weightless and lightheaded, grounded only by the soft whisper of his voice in my ear.