Then There Was You (21 page)

“It’s true, Salem,” he continued, shyly glancing up at me from the now wadded napkin he’d been messing with. “Not many adults paid much attention to me at all back then. You were like a mother figure to me.”

The word ‘mother’ planted me in my seat. Instantly my chest deflated like a balloon, and I looked down. I was a mother figure to him. I couldn’t dare get my hopes up for anything else.
Pipe down, Salem, Former counselor… remember?

Chris sat up, placing his elbows on the tiny round table for two. He leaned toward me, and I fought the urge to pull away. A strong scent of cool, refreshing masculinity invaded my senses. He stared profoundly into my eyes and in a hushed voice said, “I owe everything to you, Salem.”

Just hearing my name on his lips sent shivers down my spine—a riveting experience that I never expected.

In a flash, the moment was over. He pulled away, leaning back against his chair. His dark, stormy irises held a tempest of emotions that I couldn’t decipher, and yet they felt like magnets to my guarded heart. I was frozen. I peered back into them, feeling something. I wasn’t exactly sure what, but it felt strange. Clearly he was no longer that moody teenager, but rather a handsome, compassionate man, luring me in with his delicious, dark chocolate eyes.

Shaking his head as if to snap himself out of a trance, he stammered, “Sorry, I… I… Where is our waiter?” He looked around the room, avoiding the obvious heat of the moment.

My heart slammed in my chest as I tried to clear my head of the dizzying fog he’d left me in. I glanced down at the hands trembling in my lap. Trying to free myself from the vortex of emotions that was spinning inside of me, I inhaled a deep breath, but the bewildering moment continued to linger.
What has gotten into you, Salem? This is a former client.

“Salem.” Chris’s husky voice interrupted my thoughts. “I don’t have much time here. I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I feel like we have so much to catch up on. Why don’t we get our orders to go, and you come spend time with me in my apartment.”

His apartment?
No.
I cleared my throat, shaking away the mental picture of being in his space, seeing his things, sitting on his couch… I shook my head adamantly. “Chris, I can’t.”

His eyes widened. “I don’t mean like
that
,” he insinuated, blinking his eyes as if he were shaking the picture of it out of his head too. “I just want to talk. I feel like all eyes are on us here. I can’t let my guard down. I have so much to talk to you about, and so many listening ears. What do you say?” The boyish hopefulness on his face was hard to say no to.

I frowned, teetering on the decision.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Salem.

He grinned, sensing that he was about to win. “Come on,” he coaxed. “We can let loose, have a drink, and talk.”

I was cracking. Finally, I sighed, “Okay, let’s do that.”

“Great.” His grin widened as he indicated to his bodyguard that we were finishing up.

After the waiter brought us our takeout, we swiftly made our way out of the restaurant to a parked black Range Rover with tinted windows. Thankfully no one recognized Chris as we hopped into the vehicle.

“Give me your car keys.” Chris held out his hand.

“Why?” I asked.
This was a bad idea.

He chuckled. “I’m not going to steal your car, Salem. I’ll get one of my guys to take care of it so you won’t have to leave it here.”

“I wasn’t… I didn’t…” I stuttered, lost for words.

Chris just smirked at me. “Mmhmm, I can see those wheels turning. This will be fine. I promise I haven’t turned into a serial killer since the last time you saw me.” He gave me the most innocent look.

I chuckled and fished my keys out of my purse, handing them over. “It’s the silver Elantra that’s parked near the front.”

Chris tossed my keys out the window to one of his guys then reached for his wallet. “Take care of the Elantra, Grant.”

Grant was thin, but ripped and looked like a guy who could body slam anyone who tried to cross him. He walked up to the open window where Chris was sitting. “Yes, sir. Will do.” He gave a quick salute.

Chris handed him a Benjamin on the sly, then turned to me. “Your baby is in good hands.”

I chuckled. I hardly thought of my Elantra as my baby. “Thanks, Grant,” I said, leaning forward to see past Chris. He winked at me in return.

Before long, we were speeding down the highway toward his place. I swiped my phone and texted Alexis. She was spending the night at her dad’s house that night.

Me: Just wanted to say goodnight. I love you.

Alexis: Love you too.

Chris’s eyes were on me as we pulled up to a stoplight. “I’m texting my daughter,” I said, looking up at him in the darkness.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, embarrassed I’d caught him. “How old did you say Alexis was?” He accelerated on the gas with a quick jolt.

“She’s fourteen.” It was hard to believe sometimes that I was a mother to a teenager. I’d always heard the days were long, but the years were short. And the older Alexis got, the shorter the years felt. I loved being the mother to a teenager, even if I was a single mom. Alexis and I shared a bond most mothers dreamed of having with their teenage daughters. It was trying at times, but in a lot of ways Alexis was becoming one of my best friends.

“Wow, I still can’t believe it’s been that long ago. Feels like yesterday,” he said as if he were a little lost in our history.

“Tell me about it,” I sighed, caught in my own nostalgia. “Seems like just yesterday I was rocking her to sleep at night and dropping her off at Ms. Betty’s house every morning.”

“Hard to believe that teenager is the same baby you talked about all those years ago.” Chris glanced at the screen on my phone where Alexis’s profile pic had popped up in a tiny bubble on the screen.

I smiled, holding the phone out so Chris could get better look. “Fourteen going on twenty-one. Thinks she knows everything.”

We’d pulled up to another stoplight and he reached out to steady my shaky hand. A spark shot up my arm. The warmth of his skin tingled on my hand, and my heart immediately started pounding.

Chris leaned in, peering at the tiny pic on my phone. I could feel his breath in my hair, the heat of it making my stomach quiver. “Wow,” he said, “she’s beautiful.” He continued to hold onto my hand as I clutched my phone. His dark eyes were inches from mine, and I couldn’t tear myself away from his gaze. For a brief moment, we shared the air between us. “Just like her mama,” he breathed.

“Thanks,” I managed, my emotions jumbling. My stomach turned somersaults while my heart slammed in my chest.

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, gently squeezing my hand as though he were restraining himself. After a few prolonged seconds, he quickly released it and pulled away. “I’m sorry. I—”

“No,” I shook my head adamantly, “it’s okay. Don’t apologize.” I didn’t really know what was okay, or if it really was. I didn’t know what had just happened between us. I couldn’t put it to words. Everything was confusing.

We spent the next few minutes spellbound, lost in our own thoughts. No one spoke, barely breathing, as if a bubble of tension was squeezing in around us. I could still feel the tingle on my skin where his hand had held mine and found myself wishing he’d reach for it again, but he didn’t.

Breaking the silence, Chris began quietly singing one of his chart topping songs. I listened to him softly crooning in the seat next to me as he stared out the windshield. His words seeped into my thoughts:

I’m afraid of running off on impulsive decisions

It’s not my strong suit

And I’m astounded by anyone who can just dive right in

And see where it ends

Just to see where it ends.

Every time I’d heard those lyrics, I’d always associated them with life in general, but in that moment, they seemed to take on a whole new meaning. “I love that song,” I said softly.

He turned to look at me again as we yielded to some pedestrians. With penetrating eyes—the emotional abysses I suddenly found myself wanting to dive into—he whispered in the darkness, “Me too.”

Forget it, Salem. Can’t happen.

We pulled into the parking deck of his apartment building. When we hopped out of the car, Chris linked his arm with mine and walked me to the elevator.

“Your chariot awaits, madam,” he joked, smiling as he gestured toward the open doors of the elevator.

I grinned back and stepped inside. I’d had quite a few fantasies about elevators; this was not one of them. It was awkward. I was nervous and excited. I wondered what he was thinking—what his intentions were. Then I wondered what I wanted them to be.

He stood on one side of the elevator leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He held the bag full of our takeout food while I stood on the other side nervously staring at the floor. The silence was deafening. I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake in coming here.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened. Now if I could just make it into his apartment without fainting first. My heart was racing and my hands were trembling. Chris smiled and linked his arm in mine again as he escorted me toward his apartment. As we approached his apartment door, I noticed a man standing outside the door.

“Pete, this is Salem,” Chris introduced me. Unlike Grant, who was long and lean, Pete was shorter and rounder, but he seemed tough as nails by the grimace on his face.

Pete acknowledged me with a quick nod. “Ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you,” I responded, looking nervously around the building.

“Pete,” Chris placed a hand on the man’s burly arm and spoke quietly, “please see that we are not disturbed tonight.” Chris slipped him a folded bill, which I could only assume to be another large tip like the one he’d given Grant.

Pete shot me a sidelong glance. “Yes, sir,” he smirked.

My lip curled up with disgust, knowing what he was thinking. I wondered if this was a usual occurrence for Chris. I wanted to scream,
‘I’m not one of his groupies!’
but I didn’t. I just ignored Pete’s assuming eyes and clutched my purse to my body.

Slipping the key out of his pocket, he inserted it and swiftly swung the heavy door open.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Chris teased. I was beginning to notice that Chris masked his nerves with corny humor.

I laughed at his attempt at humor to alleviate some of the tension. I stepped inside to a beautiful loft apartment overlooking the city. A panel of windows covered one whole wall. The city lights sparkled and the towering architecture captivated the night sky. I could see the Bank of America building from his living room. “Wow, this view is fantastic!” I said in awe.

Chris nodded. “It’s the reason why they call this place ‘The Vue.’ It is pretty amazing, huh?” He stood behind me, looking out the windows too, as if he were seeing the scenery for the first time through my eyes.

“It’s truly breathtaking. You live here? I mean, when you’re not on tour, that is.” I looked at him as he stood with his hands in his pockets, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels.

Shrugging his shoulders, he explained, “Kinda. I got this apartment a few years ago. I prefer to have a place I can call my own when I’m passing through town. Maybe eventually I can settle here, but I still love the beach, too.”

I looked around the apartment, taking in all of its features… granite countertops, hardwood floors, contemporary style furniture, and a spiral staircase to the loft.

“What’s in the loft?” I asked, assuming an office or a study.

A weird look came over his face. “My bedroom,” he rasped. The way he said it flipped my stomach.

“Oh.” The word hung in the air as my lungs exhaled every last molecule of oxygen.

Chris leaned his back against the window, folding his arms across his chest. I tried not to consider the fact that he completely took my breath away. The deep dimple in his cheek was accentuated by the charming, half grin that stayed glued to his face while he watched me self-consciously fidget with the single strand of hair, twisting it around my finger. His fitted, black Wornstar thermal shirt hugged just the right places, emphasized his sculpted pecs and muscular biceps. His jeans, with their sharply contrasted stitches, highlighted areas that I tried my best not to notice. Averting my gaze from his obvious amusement of my ogling eyes and wringing hands, I once again glanced toward windows and soaked in the beauty of the city.

Chris cleared his throat, attempting to alleviate the awkwardness. “So, can I get you something to drink? A beer? Soda?”

I didn’t really drink beer often, but I needed something to take the edge off my nerves. “Sure, a beer sounds great,” I said with relief.

He turned around to walk toward the refrigerator and my eyes were immediately drawn to the intricately designed pockets that called attention to his ass.
Holy…
I quickly glanced away before he noticed me staring.

Chris popped the top off the beer and handed me the bottle. “Cheers,” he said, and chinked his own bottle against mine.

“To a great evening,” I told him, trying to hide my guilt for feeling the least bit attracted to him.