Better Than Safe (6 page)

Seth was beyond beautiful. His longish hair was tied back. He wore snug fitted designer jeans and a denim shirt opened to the middle of his toned chest. But there was something about the way he held the slim red guitar that was sexier than hell. He cradled it lovingly as he strummed, creating a melodic and soulful sound. He ran his fingers over the strings a few times, then looked up at the lead singer to signal he was ready to go.

I wanted to blame the obscene volume for the pulsing rush of blood throughout my body, but I knew it was more. As the band played, I kept my gaze trained on Seth. He was perfection. Graceful yet painstakingly precise. Other than to cast the occasional playful glance at the audience, he was in a zone. And I was mesmerized. The way he swayed with the rhythm and held his instrument to him was nothing short of sensual. I practically vibrated with a sudden, fierce desire to know him, to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair and feel him against me. I took a deep drink and swallowed hard.

They played what I assumed was original material for forty-five minutes, then took a short break and continued for another fifteen. The songs had a rock edge, but the singer’s voice was bluesy with an appealing raspy texture. The crowd danced in the confined area to the livelier tunes and seemed to know every line of the lyrics. I may have come out of curiosity, but Spiral obviously had a loyal fan base. I grudgingly admitted they were good. But when the lead singer covered the microphone with his mouth and growled a final thank you to the energetic audience, I set my empty glass on a nearby table and moved toward the side door, hoping to make a quick exit. I wasn’t sorry I’d come, but the spell had broken when the music stopped. I was a visitor in cashmere who no doubt looked like someone’s very uncool older brother. It was time to return to reality.

The door was locked. Of course.

I sighed heavily, hoping to muster the mental strength required to navigate the throng of drunken patrons and reach the front entrance. I looked back at the side door longingly just as Seth and the band’s drummer reentered the bar area from a hidden passage near the stage. Seth pointedly scoped out the crowd, then laughed at something the shorter man said. His lovely eyes crinkled with mirth as he slapped his friend on the back and gestured toward the bar. I froze. This was where I should say a brief hello, tell him I enjoyed the show and would see him sometime in DC. Eventually. Maybe. But my feet were rooted to the sticky cement floor and my palms felt sweaty. It took a moment for me to realize what was wrong with me and once I did, I was dumbfounded. How could I be nervous?

I moved toward the men, chiding myself for being an idiot when Seth’s head snapped up. He spotted me immediately and grinned, a beautiful, radiant smile that literally took my breath away.

“Hey! You made it! I thought I saw you, but then I wasn’t sure and…. Want a drink?”

He jumped up and grabbed my right shoulder to pull me into a hug, but stopped as though suddenly remembering we didn’t actually know each other very well. “Um, shoot… uh, Tim this is Paul. Paul, Tim.”

“Great show. You were brilliant.” I gestured between them to indicate I meant the band, but I couldn’t take my gaze off Seth.

He gave me another gorgeous grin before he burst out laughing. “I love the way you talk, man. What do you want? Vodka, gin, ru—”

“Nothing. Thank you. I need to get back to the hotel. I have an early meeting tomorrow and—”

“Hang on. I’ll come with you.” Seth pushed away from the bar to give his friend a bro handshake.

Tim yanked at Seth’s shirtsleeve before I could ask him what the hell he was doing. “Aren’t you gonna wait for Rand?”

“No. Tell him I left. See ya.” He turned back to me with a devilish grin and motioned for me to lead the way.

I pushed through a group of sweaty partiers three people deep before finding a small place to stand without being in physical contact with a stranger. “What are you on about? I’m leaving now, Seth.”

“‘On about’? You’re funny. I need to get out of here. You’re the perfect excuse. Go with the flow. Come this way.” His expression went from playful to painfully earnest in a flash. “I have to get my guitar and my bag. Meet me in the alley. It’ll only take a sec.”

“No. I need a cab and—”

He pulled my elbow and ended up snagging a button from his shirt on my pullover. He stopped to carefully disengage the fabric and looked me directly in the eye. “Please.”

We stared at each other for a long moment before I nodded in acquiescence. He led the way back toward where I’d been standing then pointed at the side exit. “The alley is that way. Meet me outside.”

“The door is locked,” I said in a clipped tone, curbing the desire to cross my arms and give him a “what’s next, Sherlock?” look.

“Try it again.” He turned with a wink and disappeared down the hidden passageway behind the stage.

Five minutes. No more.

I pushed open the side door and breathed in the cool evening air as I took a brief look around. There were a couple of people leaning against the brick façade of the building across the alley and a few stragglers walking toward the main street. The night was cool, but it felt refreshing after the suffocating confines of the cramped club. I pulled my cell from my pocket to give myself something to do. Any diversion to keep from wondering why I was standing in an alley waiting for someone I hardly knew. It was eleven thirty-three. If he wasn’t here by eleven thirty-eight, I was out.

I heard the heavy door squeak open behind me a few minutes later. I pushed away from the wall and started to move out of the shadowed area under the eaves, but stopped at the sound of a heated exchange nearby.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“I’m just going. No big deal. Don’t make it into one. See you later,” Seth’s tone was hurried, but not angry per se.

“Whoa. Are you pissed about—”

“I’m not pissed about anything, Rand. Leave it the fuck alone. Okay?”

Silence.

“You’re so fucking obstinate,” a deep raspy voice answered. Probably his friend Rand.

A resigned sigh was followed by the shuffling of feet.

“Fine. Say what you need to say,” Seth huffed impatiently.

“Where are you staying?”

“Rand, I’m fine. Stop being such a mommy. Just let me go.”

I heard a frustrated growl followed by a resigned sigh.

“Okay. Stay away from that creep with the paint-stained fingers and smooth moves. The dude is trouble. If you wanna get laid, wait for me. He’s not gonna fuck you like me anyway.” The deep raspy voice was tinged with worry, though his words were purposefully crude. “And neither will the tall guy who was fuckin’ drooling in the audience. Is he out here now? Is he—”

“Fuck you.”

“That can be arranged.” More laughter then the smacking sound of a sloppy kiss. “Call me when you get home, Seth.”

The door creaked closed. Silence.

Something fell and the clattering noise echoed in the dark alley. I stepped away from the wall with one hand in my pocket and the other holding my phone.

“Goddamn fucking fuck fuck fuck.”

“Are you all right?”

Seth turned with a start but recovered quickly. His face was cloaked in shadow, making his expression impossible to read. “Hunky fucking dory. I thought you left.”

“I’m here. And you’re late.”

“I’m always late.” He picked up his guitar case, slung his battered backpack over his shoulder, and gave me a lopsided smile. “Which way are you going?”

I stepped forward and studied him for moment before answering. The altercation I’d overheard seemed to have dampened his spirits, but his eyes blazed with a fierce determination I didn’t understand. There was a story here and it wasn’t mine. If I were smart, I’d walk away. Now.

I bit my bottom lip but couldn’t stop the words from leaving my mouth. Bloody hell, I was a fool. “This way.”

We walked through the alley to the main street in silence. I had no idea what to say. Now that we’d come this far, I decided to allow him to tag along as far as the hotel. After that, he was on his own. I settled back in the cab after I gave the driver the address, careful to not bump my knee against the guitar case resting between us.

“You’re staying near the Harbor?” he scoffed.

“Yes. Is there something wrong?” I heard my imperious tone and wasn’t surprised when Seth chuckled.

“Not at all, milord,” he mocked in a decent Cockney accent. “We could have walked. That’s all.”

“I wouldn’t have known where to go. I’m not familiar with the city and I’m not traipsing about at midnight hoping a kind soul will point me in the right direction.”

“Well, I’m a kind soul and I happen to be from this fair city. I coulda saved you a couple bucks.”

“I’d gladly pay the few dollars for peace of mind,” I snarked, glancing curiously over at my companion. “I didn’t realize Baltimore was your home.”

“It’s not. I was just born here.”

His sharp tone told me that line of conversation was closed.

“Ah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You’re a bit tetchy, aren’t you?” I snorted as I turned to look out the smudged taxi window. “I’m compelled to point out that you paid extra to ride the express train this afternoon. If you were so intent on saving, I have to wonder why you didn’t take the regular train into the city.”

“I was late.”

“Again?”

Seth chuckled heartily and flashed me a wide grin. “Yep. Here we are, guv’nor.”

I looked up as the cab came to a stop in front of my hotel. “So we are.”

I paid the driver and waited near the revolving glass doors for Seth. I figured this was where we said the awkward good-bye we could have gotten out of the way at the club. But when he sauntered toward me like he had all the time in the world and no particular plan, I felt a very strong urge to be with him. If only to see what he did next. He had a carefree nomadic aura about him that fascinated me. He was a puzzle. Or a lovely painting I couldn’t stop gazing at… so colorful yet textured and—

“Wanna get a drink?”

I hesitated for half a second before gesturing him to follow me inside. I chanted a litany of “this is not a good idea” and even composed a “let’s do drinks another time” speech in my head as we passed through the lobby area to the bar. The hotel was part of a reliable chain. The décor was traditional with dark paneled walls and contemporary chandeliers. Tasteful enough not to offend anyone, yet hardly memorable. The bar was the same. Other than the blue backlighting behind the ubiquitous liquor-laden glass wall, the space was decorated with the same dark paneling, hotel art, and tasteful cobalt pendants. We could have been in any bar anywhere in the world. Except this one was inexplicably overrun with a large group of inebriated businessmen. I glanced at my watch. It was almost midnight.

Seth adjusted the burdens in his arms and smirked, “We can always tear up the minibar in your room.”

“Uh….”

He laughed at my expression and shook his head. “It’s cool. We can do this another t—”

“No. One drink.”

“One drink,” he repeated with a sly smile.

As we headed toward the elevators, I asked silly questions about anything from the band’s playlist to how long he’d had the shiny red guitar in his case. He didn’t know me well enough to know I was babbling, but as the elevator binged to the fifth floor, I recognized my chatter for what it was. Nerves. Again. What was wrong with me?

Seth didn’t seem bothered. “I’ve had this baby for a year now. She’s a Fender Stratocaster. Beautiful. She plays well, kind of like she was made for this music.”

“Rock and roll?” I slid my card in the lock and opened the door with a flourish.

Seth waltzed ahead of me. He left his bag near the full-length mirror across from the bathroom, then continued into the room and set his guitar case against the desk before turning with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah, and the blues. Rand loves the blues.”

“Rand is the lead singer?”

“Yeah and songwriter. And to answer your question… all the songs are original material. Some of it was brand new tonight and the audience ate it the fuck up!” His grin was electric and very self-satisfied. He was obviously still buzzing with a performance high.

I smiled then crouched low to examine the contents in the minibar. “What will you have? There’s cheap wine, beer or Stoli, Bacardi, Jack. Hmm, it looks well stocked.”

“What about mixers?”

“Let’s see… club soda, orange juice an—”

“Club soda works. I hate orange juice,” he declared, flopping gracelessly into the leatherette desk chair and then quickly jumping up again. “We need ice. I’ll get some. Back in a jiff.”

He grabbed the ice bucket and was gone before I could respond. I set the tiny bottles, soda water, and glasses in a neat row. Anything to keep my hands moving so my head wouldn’t wander. One drink. This was an innocent nightcap. No more. It would give me a chance to ask about his music and maybe about the conversation I’d overheard before he hopped in my taxi and charmed his way into my hotel room.

No, that wasn’t fair. I’d invited him. One drink.

I moved toward the door thinking I’d leave it ajar for him, but stopped as I caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair was slightly disheveled and my jaw was scruffy, but my clothes were perfectly pressed. I looked like what I was, a tired businessman dressed in conservative casualwear. I shrugged. The ad exec mooning over the male model slash wannabe rock star, artist was hardly a new role for me, but it was one I hadn’t played in years. I was an idiot. With any luck, I’d grow up one day.

Seth sashayed into the room carrying the ice bucket a few minutes later. He grinned triumphantly and shook the contents like a child shaking his piggy bank.

“Well done,” I deadpanned.

Seth threw back his head and laughed gleefully before dropping unceremoniously onto the bed. “You’re a dick.”

I tossed him a faux scornful look, then turned to pour us each a somewhat stronger drink than intended. I handed him one and chuckled when he took a gulp and immediately sputtered.