He lifts his eyebrows. “That makes perfect sense, your theatrical training. Were you ever on Broadway?”
A fist clenches around my heart at his words, but I paste a smile on. “I…got close.”
Not technically a lie. I’ll spare Harrison the sordid details.
A pregnant pause. Harrison isn’t sure what to say to that. Most people don’t when I tell them that I didn’t achieve the success I’d hoped for in New York.
Finally, “Aces is certainly lucky to have you now.”
I suppress an eye roll. Luck had nothing to do with it. I never auditioned. Rouge happened to call me when I was at my lowest, and I jumped at the opportunity.
But again, I’ll leave that detail out of the conversation.
“Thank you, Harrison.” I lean in. “So I have to ask, why were you so determined to get into the club this evening?”
He frowns. “I’ve…come here with a friend before.”
That’s not exactly an answer to my question. But I can tell by the cadence of his voice that he doesn’t want to disclose anything further.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Not prying at all.” He takes another puff on his cigar. “I love going to the theater now and then. Will you be adding any Broadway songs to your set?”
I bite my lip. “I’m limited to the jazz standards from the thirties and forties. There is some Broadway rep in there, but not anything that I sang when I was running the audition circuit.”
He cocks his head. “That’s a shame. I’d love to hear your bread-and-butter pieces sometime.”
“Maybe I can twist my sister’s arm.” I shrug nonchalantly.
What a crock. No one twists Rouge’s arm, except maybe Chet on a rare occasion.
Then again… She isn’t here tonight.
I check my watch. “I should probably start getting ready for the next set.”
He nods. “Of course. I’ll look forward to hearing it.”
“It’ll just be the same songs.”
He shrugs. “I enjoyed them the first time. I’m sure I’ll enjoy them again.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” I stand. “But please don’t feel an obligation.”
“On the contrary. I can’t wait to see and hear more of you.” He rises and touches my exposed shoulder.
A spark of static electricity jolts me at his touch. No doubt due to the green Turkish rugs that carpet the entire Clubs section.
But it’s not just the rugs. It wasn’t just electricity. A chill courses through me and blood rushes to my extremities. Then warmth replaces the chill, starting at my shoulders and arrowing right between my legs.
I want to be touched by this man.
I want to be loved by this man.
I want to be fucked by this man.
“Bianca?”
I blink a few times. “Sorry. Just got a little lost in thought.”
