Pursued by the Rogue (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 1) (5 page)

Yet here she was and there he was, with his hair gathered back into the stump of a ponytail and a fancy looking violin case slung across the chair beside him. He stood when she arrived at the table and pulled back her chair.

“Old fashioned,” she murmured.

“My father’s influence. Not collecting you and getting you here was neglectful enough. I need to make good.”

No sooner had she sat down than a waiter arrived with glasses and a jug of icy water. He took their orders as he filled their glasses. Coffee and cannoli for her, coffee and a panino for Finn.

All very normal and easy except for Dawn’s accelerated heartbeat and shortness of breath. And the way Finn kept looking at her as if he liked what he saw. All the fashion and makeup advice in the world had helped her make the most of her unusual features but she still wasn’t used to people liking what they saw.

“Faith tells me that you and your company are a big deal in the world of medical research,” he said.

“I have a lot of good people on board. We specialize in DNA sequencing technology.”

“I’m impressed. And daunted.”

“You shouldn’t be. What you do isn’t exactly common. You stand up in front of an audience and perform without music for an hour straight and never miss a note.”

“Says who?”

“I read the reviews. They say your music is flawless.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Perfectionist,” she teased.

“And you’re not, when it comes to your research?”

Maybe the man had a point. “You haven’t performed for a while. What’s happening there?”

“New repertoire. I’m recording a concerto by a Finnish composer. What do you know about Sibelius?”

Not a damn thing other than what he’d just told her. “He’s Finnish? And … dead?”

“Good call. Melancholy bastard,” Finn grumbled.

Dawn felt herself relaxing, she couldn’t help it. “Do you get stuck in his moods when you play his music?”

“I do. And then I have to fight my way out.”

“Thank you for explaining the perils of Sibelius in a way I can understand.”

“I expect the same from you when it comes to DNA sequencing.”

Dawn felt her smile fade. “We really don’t have much in common, do we?” She watched as his gaze flickered to the curve of her mouth and back.

Okay, maybe they had that.

She reached for her water and sipped as he studied her through narrowed eyes.

“Are you always inclined towards stopping a friendship before it’s begun?” he asked finally.

No. This unstoppable determination to present herself in the worst possible light was new. A mad mix of hope that he might still find something about her to like, and deliberate self-sabotage. “Could be I’m trying to spare you.”

“From what?”

“Me.”

“How about you let me make that call?”

The coffee came, and so did the food. Finn started on his roll with uninhibited enjoyment. Dawn tried very hard to hide her rapture at the cannoli but it was too good not to let her pleasure show. Finn watched her with every evidence of enjoyment.

“I’m a Classic Rock fan,” she said by way of more sabotage.

“I have a Led Zeppelin T-shirt,” he countered.

She leaned forward, not too much, with every semblance of incomprehension she could muster. “Lead who?”

His gaze narrowed. “Nice try, but I know you don’t mean it.”

“I have a car,” she said, in the hope that he might disapprove. “I’ve never subscribed to the notion of not having a car. Mine’s a purring beast of at least eight cylinders. And it’s red.”

“Australians,” he murmured sadly. “Bet you don’t have one in Manhattan.”

“It’s true, my car currently lives upstate at my mother’s place.”

“I thought your parents lived in Australia?”

“Faith tell you that?”

“Or you did. Long time ago, though.”

“My mother brought my father back to the Adirondacks a few years back. That’s where she grew up. Her mother and sister are there. She has support there.”

“Support for what?”

“My father’s in a nursing home and needs round the clock care. It takes its toll on all concerned.”

“Tough times.”

Dawn nodded. Finn probably knew about those. He’d had to watch his mother die of cancer during his teenage years. He knew something of bodies that failed. “My mother’s a strong lady. She makes it work.”

“Do you see them much?”

“More than I used to. Not as often as I should.” She offered up more of herself to him than she usually would a new date. Then again, he wasn’t exactly new. “We’re not that close.”

“Faith said they stayed in Australia and sent you to the States when you were twelve or so.”

Dawn nodded.

“Why?”

“So I could get a better education than the one they could give me in Australia. I was bright. My parents were teachers. For a lot of years my parents were my
only
teachers. They taught in remote communities – six months here, a year there. We moved around the outback a
lot
. There came a time when my mother thought I needed more than what she could provide.”

She knew now why they’d done it. Her father’s Huntington’s disease had been starting to kick in and they’d wanted her out of the way while they came to terms with what that meant.

Nothing good.

Not for them.

Not for Dawn.

The disease had stripped her father of all dignity and most of his function. Dawn had a fifty percent chance of inheriting it. If she
had
inherited it, she had a fifty percent chance of passing it on to
her
offspring.

To his credit, her father hadn’t known he carried the Huntington’s gene when he’d married and decided he wanted children. He’d been orphaned at birth. There’d been no record of the disease within the scant family history his birth mother had provided. He hadn’t known. And the symptoms didn’t usually manifest until people were in their thirties and forties.

These days there were tests people could take to find out early whether they had the disease or not. Dawn’s own company now specialized in detecting genetic anomalies.

But she hadn’t taken that test yet.

On her thirtieth birthday she would.

She’d promised.

Until then, she didn’t want to know.

“My mother and my aunt are coming to visit me in a couple of weeks. They want to see a show,” she said lightly. “Maybe a musical. Any recommendations?”

“Chicago’s got a good cast at the moment. Good chemistry between the leads.”

Dawn felt the rake of his gaze as she straightened in her chair and let her chin come up. Her nipples tightened and her skin began to heat. There was chemistry between her and Finn too. He knew what he was doing to her. He’d always known.

“I like chemistry,” he continued. “Hard to find at times.” He dropped his gaze to her lips again, offering her a brief respite from eyes of mossy forest green. “You though … you and I have a lot of it.”

“I can only offer general friendship and sex.” Again, she felt the need to warn him.

“Oh, I think you can offer a little more than that,” he murmured as his eyes grew darkly intent. “I think sex with you is going to be off the charts illuminating. It was before.”

Nothing but the truth.

There was that smile again. The one she’d fallen for ten years ago.

She could do this. Create a few new memories of this man and paper over the old ones. Good sex. Great sex. And emphatically no consequences.

“Why don’t you drop by my place this evening, after rehearsal?” she said. “There could be food involved. Strictly in service to your sexual stamina, of course.”

“Food would be welcome,” he murmured. “You would benefit by feeding me. Would there be shower facilities as well?”

“Do you sweat when you rehearse?”

“Blood, sweat and tears,” he confirmed.

“I shall make shower facilities available.”

“Would there be breakfast in bed?”

“I’m at work by seven.” That never changed. “You’ll find food in the fridge. The door will lock behind you on the way out.”

“Oh, that’s cold.”

“There’s a nice view from the bed. Enjoy.”

“Better with you in it.” He sounded like a wistful little boy. “Can I bring flowers?”

“No.”

“Wine?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of music will you have playing?”

“That going to be a deal breaker for you, music man?”

“Could be.”

Music all afternoon for him, melancholy and all-encompassing. “With all that’ll be playing in your head after rehearsal, I’m wondering whether you might like silence.”

He went very still at that. And then very carefully set his coffee back down. “Don’t do that,” he ordered gruffly. “Don’t be that understanding. I can’t be just sex if you do that.”

“Elevator music it is.”

“I hate elevator music.”

Dawn sat back and smiled and kicked gently at the chair his violin sat on. “Good.”

‡

S
unday afternoon had
passed in a symphony of sound, different interpretations of the sound, and the occasional thought of chemistry. By the time Finn stood in front of the grand old apartment building Dawn lived in, he wondered afresh what he was getting himself into.

Faith had implied that Dawn had done well for herself, and if she could afford an address like this one, she most certainly had. He wasn’t intimidated. He’d kicked around the fringes of wealth these past few years and knew that if wealth was the goal, there was always someone wealthier. If security was the goal, well, this was a very secure and well-situated investment.

Finn owned his apartment; he supposed that was an investment.

He owned violins that he could sell, might sell … wouldn’t sell – so he should probably call those an indulgence. Or musical improvement or something.

He had his own resources, no need to feel intimidated. He wasn’t a vagabond. He could match this.

Besides. It was just sex.

He rang Dawn’s bell and she buzzed him in the security door.

Thirty seconds later he was in the elevator on his way to the sixth floor, apartment D. He always had liked the key of D.

Dawn opened her door with a smile and ushered him in. Her apartment was jaw droppingly spacious, with a large entry foyer sweeping in to a living area with floor to ceiling windows that looked towards the city. Warm wooden floors and all natural materials completed the air of luxury.

“Do you like it?”

“Needs a piano right here.”

“I don’t play.”

He did. He could imagine playing in this space, working in it, living and loving in it. “Shame,” he said and she smiled and moved in close, snaking her hand around his neck and bringing his lips down to hers for the merest whisper of a kiss.

If there was a view to be had from this apartment, he couldn’t see it. All his attention was focused on those lips still hovering so close to his own.

He’d dreamed of this too many times not to take what he wanted, sinking into another kiss that wasn’t nearly as fleeting as the first. He took his time, intent on savoring her softness and warmth. And then her mouth opened beneath his and he tasted Dawn’s particular brand of sweetness for the first time in ten years and that was the end of slow.

With a strangled growl he feasted on her, dropping the wine and the cheesecake he’d brought along, in order to get his hands in her hair so that he could tilt her head just so and sink deeper. He didn’t mean to pour his soul into this kiss, just his expertise, but by the time he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers as they shared air in ragged gasps, he knew he had no chance whatsoever of keeping this just about sex.

A nice guy would let her know that.

“There’s cheesecake and wine in that bag on the floor.” Assuming it was still intact. And then he was kissing her again and this time he pressed in close, letting his body slide against hers, craving the heat and the friction and letting her know in the simplest possible way that his body wanted hers. He shrugged the strap of his violin case from his shoulders and with the last remnants of forethought let it thud softly to the floor.

“That better not be your fancy violin.”

It was. He shuddered hard as she dipped her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, near his hipbone, and inadvertently encountered hard cock. “It’s meant to be played.”

She ran her forefinger across his slit and a bead of pre-come followed instantly. He was pretty sure he only whimpered in his mind.

“Can dinner wait?” She set her lips to the cut of his jaw and undid the button on his jeans one handed before sliding his zip down and reaching in to palm him. Her hand was firm and sure, a little pressure, a lick of friction.

“Pretty sure breakfast tomorrow can wait if you keep that up.”

“What about that shower you wanted, can it wait?”

“No.” He wanted her mouth on him, all over, and for that he wanted to be clean. “I need the shower. You’re welcome to join me.” Her facilities, after all.

She sent him a dark, smoky look. “Follow me.”

The shower had a slate feature wall and two spray bars either side of an enormous square shower head and was big enough for two. The tiles were a dark dull gray and the basins were white. The towels were white too.