Strung Out Page 2

  “Sorry.”

  “Only five minutes left, Tallie. After that you can shed a few tears for Dylan.”

  “Other than hoping he’s gone by the time I get home, I’m not worried about him.”

  “Then what?”

  “Who is that guy?” Talia lifted her chin and jerked it in Tall, Dark, and Handsome’s direction.

  “Oh.” Leslie hissed an oath. “That’s the bride’s son. I think his last name is Aasen. I don’t remember what his first name is.”

  “Nice.”

  “I suppose. If you like that kind of man.”

  “What kind of man?”

  Leslie shot her a dark look. “C’mon. Rich, powerful, probably snobby as hell with a serious reputation as a player.”

  “Oh, that kind of man.”

  “Yep.”

  Talia pondered that thought for several moments. She didn’t remember ever hearing about a man named Aasen, though that didn’t really mean anything. Her life was so damn busy she never had a second to worry about anything outside of her little sphere of existence. But he hadn’t seemed like that kind of guy when he’d played the unwitting part of knight in shining armor in the alley.

  Though he had mentioned he didn’t have to chase women.

  Of course, there was a distinct difference between not needing help to find a date and fucking anything with a hole between its legs. And if he was involved with the golden princess, he could’ve simply meant he wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

  Talia threw off her contemplations with effort as she drew the bow across the cello strings one final time. In her personal opinion, it was damned difficult to look dignified when playing the cello. She had to shift the skirt of her dress several times before she could set the thing aside and stand up. When she did, Talia found herself face to chest with Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself.

  Chapter Two

  “I was under the impression that we’d hired a trio to play tonight,” Erik told her, trying to keep his tone light.

  She froze when she saw him, and Erik felt a moment’s uncertainty. Then she lifted her blue gaze and dazzled him with a grin.

  “Under the circumstances, a duo in place of a trio is much better than option three.”

  “Which would be?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  “I’m not altogether sure, but I know it involved unconscious people, smashed instruments, and blood.”

  The bark of amusement that escaped his chest took Erik by surprise. It continued, mingling pleasantly with Talia’s husky laughter. Finally he put his hand out toward her. “I’m Erik Aasen, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.”

  “All things considered I think I’m glad you waited,” she teased, taking his hand. “My name is Talia Davies.”

  Her grip was firm, her hand warm and slender against his big palm. Erik’s heart thundered wildly against his rib cage. Her touch was electric. Not just attraction but something far more, like a force of nature.

  “Can I buy you a drink after you finish up here? I could drop you home afterward.”

  He heard the words come out of his mouth. Erik understood them, knew they were what he wanted. Yet there was still a meager part of his brain screaming that he was insane. He had responsibilities, and none of them included spending time with some strange woman, a musician no less, regardless of the inexplicable attraction between them.

  If Talia’s expression was anything to go by, she was just as shocked as he was by the invitation. Somewhere behind her, the violinist was determinedly not paying attention as she packed away her things. Erik could easily read her. She was dying to know how they knew each other and why he’d made Talia such an offer.

  “I hadn’t much thought about what I’d do after we finished here.” Her brow furrowed as she considered his invitation. "It might be wise to let a little more time pass between now and going home.”

  Erik’s face began to arrange itself into a disgustingly pleasant smile he seemed unable to control. What the hell was the matter with him? It was as if his brain and mouth had ceased all communication.

  “What about you, Les? Want to tag along?” Talia tossed a glance over her shoulder at her redheaded friend.

  “I’m going to have to pass this time, Tallie. I’m meeting Niles in a half hour to go over some sheet music for next weekend. We both appreciate your filling in for him tonight.”

  A loaded look passed between the two women. Erik had always marveled at such things. He’d seen his sisters do it countless times. One series of glances and they knew who, what, when, where, and why.

  “Tell Niles I said hey and bring him up to speed on the Dylan situation, would you?” Talia asked, nibbling her lower lip.

  “Of course,” the redhead agreed. “You’re the only reason we hadn’t fired him months ago. You know how Niles feels about him.”

  Talia grimaced.“Which is why I’m happy to have other plans.”

  Erik caught sight of Desiree over Talia’s shoulder, her face carefully hiding a good amount of shock. Cringing inwardly, Erik wondered how much of a tongue-lashing he was going to have to endure in order to get her cooperation.

  “Would ten minutes be enough time to finish up here?” Erik asked.

  “I think I can manage.”

  “Could I meet you by the side door?”

  Her expression shifted, a darkening of the eyes and thinning of her full lips that prodded Erik’s conscience. He knew instinctively that she was reconsidering, wondering if he was too embarrassed to walk out the front door with her. Of course, the reality was something else entirely, though just as complicated.

  “My sister’s driver is waiting for her on that side of the building,” Erik told Talia quietly. “I need to make certain she gets to her car with all of the wedding gifts.”

  “Oh, okay. Do you need me to help?”

  It was a relatively simple offer. It shocked Erik to his core. He couldn’t remember the last time any woman of his acquaintance had voluntarily offered to help with anything. Sometimes they offered their staff or possibly a donation to hire staff. But offer to actually lift a finger to help somebody? Never.

  Talia waited, interested to see what would happen next. She’d have to admit to being a little miffed by the idea of meeting him at the side door. As if taking the hired help out for drinks was a dirty little secret he didn’t want his other rich friends to know about. He’d known her assumptions. His hasty explanation had been proof enough of that. But why a simple offer of help was so shocking, she hadn’t a clue.

  “I appreciate the offer.” His green eyes were as warm as his voice. “But I think we’ve got it covered.”

  Talia shot a dubious glance at the mountain of gifts covering three tables and littering the floor like post-New Year confetti. “Whatever you say, but I’ve got no interest in watching you drown yourself in matching sets of towels.”

  “That is quite a haul,” Leslie commented. “Is this the happy couple’s first wedding?”

  Talia almost missed the brief look of pain that creased Erik’s handsome face before his pleasant expression reasserted itself. Wasn’t he happy about his mother’s marriage? Or did he disapprove of marriage in general?

  “No. This is my mother’s fifth wedding.”

  Leslie made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. “Not so unusual these days.”

  “Serial brides,” Talia agreed.

  “Is that the term?” Erik deadpanned. “I’d been struggling for the politically correct way to discuss this habit with my mother.”

  “I’d at least wait until after the honeymoon to open that topic,” Talia commented.

  He snorted. “If I wait that long, she’ll open it herself.”

  Talia swallowed a giggle while Leslie pressed her hand to her face to hide her laughter. Erik’s devilish expression was breathtaking. Heat lanced through Talia’s body, making her light-headed and giddy. She could only nod and smile like a simpleton when Erik excused himself.
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br />   “Leave out a few things, Tallie?” Leslie chided once Erik was out of earshot.

  “It didn’t seem important at the time.”

  “Well now I think it does.”

  Talia sighed. “He was out there, by the back door, when Dylan and I were fighting.”

  “Fighting? You said you told him off, broke it off, and then he left to get his shit.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t quite that easy.”

  “How ugly did it get?”

  Talia’s eyes drifted toward Erik. “It didn’t really, because he was there.”

  “Erik Aasen watched you break up with Dylan?” Leslie obviously needed confirmation.

  “He was having a smoke. I didn’t see him when I dragged Dylan out there or we would’ve found someplace else to clear the air. But Dylan got a little…belligerent.”

  “How belligerent do you think he would’ve gotten if Erik hadn’t been there, Tallie?”

  She shrugged. It was hard to say what Dylan would’ve done. He’d never been the predictable sort.

  “What did Erik say to him?”

  She hesitated. She didn’t care to rehash the nasty words Dylan had thrown at her or the insinuations he’d made about Erik. “He wasn’t happy.”

  “Did either of you actually say anything about the engagement?”

  “I told him to move out. I don’t think I could have been much more specific, Les.”

  “This is Dylan. You can’t leave loopholes.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. I’ll handle it. Okay?”

  Leslie swung the shoulder strap of her viola case over her head and reached for the violin.

  “You don’t have to get all this, Les.”

  “If you’re going out with Prince Charming, I hardly think you want to be dragging a violin and a cello into a bar with you.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Just help me get a cab, would you?”

  “Are you insane?” Desiree hissed. “Or do you really not care about the Colton Electronics merger?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Everything is fine.”

  Erik opened the limousine’s door and tried to usher his sister inside. But Desiree was determined to stand in the doorway and give him a piece of her mind. He sighed. There was no arguing with her until she had her say.

  “You do realize Courteney watched your little interlude with our cellist, don’t you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Do you really think it’s wise to piss her off?”

  His lip curled with disdain. “She and her father may eventually nail my balls to the wall and force a proposal out of me to seal this merger deal. But for now I’m still operating on my own terms.”

  “If you go out with this woman, they’re going to use it to get the upper hand.”

  He shrugged. “That I can deal with. It may cost me a few thousand in jewelry to make it right, but that’s acceptable.”

  Desiree’s feminine features softened. “Why are you willing to risk all that to spend one evening with a woman you barely know?”

  “She makes me laugh.”

  There was a moment of silence before his sister shook her head in wonder. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with my brother?”

  “Enough, Desiree. Go home, organize these gifts, and start the thank-you notes like a good girl.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Erik.”

  “Wow, sounds tempting. You first.”

  He shut the car door on his sister’s angry retort.

  “Actually, it sounds physically impossible. Maybe you should take the gifts home yourself if it makes her this upset. I wouldn’t want to cause trouble between you and your sister.”

  Talia’s husky voice caught him by surprise. Erik turned to find her less than a dozen feet away, leaning against the doorjamb. She’d pulled a simple black chenille sweater over the narrow straps of her dress and slung a small handbag over one shoulder.

  “Ready to go?” Erik asked as soon as he could trust his voice.

  She shrugged, the gesture sending a lock of her hair cascading over her shoulder. “I am if you are.”

  The picture she made standing in the doorway sent a jolt of realization through Erik. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was a woman in a doorway. But it was also more. The light in her brilliant blue eyes, the warmth of her smile, and everything else about the way Erik felt when he was around her made it more, made him want more.

  “Come on then.” Erik held out his hand, eager to feel her skin to skin again. “Let’s get a cab.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I know a bar.”

  “You know a bar?”

  He laughed, tugging her down the steps to the curb where a valet already had a cab waiting. “You can’t picture me in a bar?”

  “I’m not sure. Don’t guys like you stick to wine tastings or nightclubs?”

  “Wow, ‘guys like me’? Ouch.”

  Erik watched her slide into the cab and settle. There was no bitching about the smell or how dirty it was. She simply sat. He slid in beside her and shut the door, hyperaware of their close proximity in the small backseat.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Eleven blocks, a place called Jack’s.”

  The driver offered a gap-toothed grin. “I know the place.”

  * * *

  It was definitely a bar. The lighting was dim, and the air smoky. A jukebox blared in the background, and tables full of people in various stages of inebriation filled the long room. A massive bar stretched the entire length of one wall, gleaming bottles of every kind of liquor imaginable shelved against the shining mirrored surface behind it.

  “Aasen! It’s been months, man. Where’ve you been?”

  The rough voice was coated in a thick Bostonian accent, the kind you got from living every moment of your life in the city. It belonged to a burly lump of a man with a clean-shaven head and the body of a pro wrestler. A single gold hoop gleamed in each of his ears.

  Erik slid onto a bar stool, Talia hopping up beside him. “Good to see you, Nicolai. How’s business?”

  Nicolai scratched his angular jaw. “Excellent, but hard times call for hard drinks, ya know.”

  “Nicolai, this is Talia.” Erik offered her a reassuring grin. “Nicolai and I go way back. He’s a good man to know when you’re in a tight spot.”

  “Is that so?” She tried to imagine any possible tight spots that could involve both Erik and a man like Nicolai.

  “What can I get you, pretty Talia?” Nicolai asked, setting his big hands flat on the bar.

  “What do you have?”

  “A little bit of everything.”

  Talia cocked her head to one side, wondering what the best course of action might be in this situation. “I’ll take one of whatever you want me to have.”

  The low, rich laughter told her neither man had missed the double entendre in her request. As Nicolai left to get their drinks, Erik’s gaze raked her body. A thrill of anticipation shot down her spine.

  “Should I ask how you ever managed to hook up with Nicolai?” She shifted so that she could see his face.

  Erik considered her question. “Let’s just say even rich boys can be bad boys.”

  “Are you really considered a bad boy when you can buy your way out of trouble?”

  “Sure. Don’t forget that money is the root of all evil.”

  “I think I’ll wait and reserve judgment for when I actually get some.”

  “On that topic, what is it that you do for a living?”

  “Meaning you don’t believe I can support myself by playing gigs like your mother’s wedding?”

  “I know my mother’s wedding planner didn’t leave much room for musicians in the budget.”

  “Actually, I was filling in for a friend tonight. I don’t normally play with a string trio.”

  “So it sounds like everything that happened tonight was a freak accident.” Erik reac
hed out and snagged the bottle Nicolai had set before him. He leaned back against the bar and took a long swig of beer. Idly toying with the bottle, he stared at his hand.

  “I guess it sort of was.” Talia slanted Erik an appraising glance from beneath her eyelashes. The man was too attractive. There had to be some flaw, some imperfection that would render him normal. His tousled dark hair stuck up in the back, and his goatee was starting to get a little scruffy. Unfortunately those things made Talia wonder what he looked like when he got out of bed in the morning.

  The truth was that she was kidding herself. The man was perfect.

  There was no denying he was built like a god. Though he was covered in a custom-tailored suit, Talia’s imagination eagerly conjured up visions of the lean muscle and golden skin that no doubt hid beneath the expensive cloth.

  She reined in her wild thoughts. It was ridiculous. She was not the kind of girl to fall in love with a stranger, much less go to bed with him.

  “So back to my question. What pays the bills?”

  Nicolai chose that moment to place a drink before her. It had a pretty pink color and came in a martini glass with strawberries instead of olives.

  “My special martini,” he offered.

  Talia sniffed the glass. It smelled fruity. “It’s called?”

  “Prickly Pear Martini.”

  Both men watched as she took a tentative sip. The tart flavor washed over her tongue, the vodka leaving a dry trail in its wake. It had a delicate flavor Talia could quickly learn to enjoy.

  “It’s good, Nicolai. Thanks.”

  The big man grinned. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

  “I teach music,” Talia said when Nicolai walked away.

  Erik nodded. “Public or private?”

  “Boston School for the Arts, although I have a dozen or more private students as well. And you—what do you do for a living?”

  “What makes you think I’m not old money?”

  “I’m certain you are old money, but you aren’t the type to sit around and do nothing all day.”

  His face broke into a smile, and he took another long pull of his beer. “That is true.”

  “And yet you’re hanging out in a Back Bay bar in a twelve-hundred-dollar Armani suit. So do tell.”