“You know what I mean. I’m here with you, day in and day out. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“Em, if I didn’t want to spend time with you, I wouldn’t ask. You might think I’m a good guy, but I’m not that good.”
“You’ll never convince me you’re a bad boy.”
“No?” Michael leaned in closer. Now that Trent was out of the picture, it was hard not to turn on the charm, especially when every animal instinct inside him demanded he commence the courtship ritual. “What would I have to do to convince you I can be bad?”
“That depends. There’s bad and then there’sbad.”
“I would hope every good boy has a bit of bad in him. I’ve had my moments.”
“I’m sure you have.” Emily’s face grew so red it looked as if one of the makeup ladies had run past and lobbed some crimson blush at her cheeks.
His own palms grew sweaty so he crossed his arms over his chest and gave them a discreet wipe on his shirt. They’d danced around each other for a while now, but the choreography was changing. Their polite minuet was about to degenerate into a naked tango and he’d never been so happy to take a spin on the floor.
“Look,” he said, rescuing her from the conversation. “My brothers and I have a band.”
“For real?”
“We play for fun. If I called our group a ‘garage band’ I’d be overestimating our talents. Still, people know who we are, so we get the odd crowd. We have a late gig at the Bamboo Gigolo on Friday. Come. Watch us make fools of ourselves. Have a laugh.”
“I’m sure you don’t look like fools.”
“You haven’t heard us yet.”
“I don’t know, Michael. I had fun when we all went to the Arcade Bar, but that was before I knew about Trent cheating. I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
“I see. So we haven’t completed the official period of mourning yet?”
“I’m not mourning him, but I might be mourning the old me.”
Michael grasped her hand. “From what I can see, you’re still here. It’s just one night, Em. It won’t kill you. It might even be good for you.”
She looked at their clasped hands and he did the same. He’d never considered how his hand looked next to a woman’s but something about Emily’s hand in his seemed right. They looked good together, as if their fingers were always meant to touch. They were both covered in grit, but when his thumb stroked her skin, it still felt soft and warm. His heart beating, he turned her hand over and stroked her palm.
“The thing is I already have plans to meet my brother Friday night. We need to catch up on some lost time, so we’re going to check out the latest on Netflix.”
“That is so sad.”
She swatted him.
“Bring your brother. I’d like to meet the poet.”
“The Bamboo Gigolo, huh?”
“Yep.” When she smiled, Michael had to resist the urge to claim her lips. “And because you’re with the band, you’ll get free drinks.”
“In that case, how can I possibly refuse?”
“Good. I’ll text you the details.” He released her hand, letting his fingers glide against hers. He grabbed his cell and sent her the information with a couple of clicks.
“You can be persuasive when you want to be.”
“I don’t know. That didn’t take much persuasion.”
“Michael Zorn…”
“Have I told you how much I like it when you pretend to be angry at me? It’s hot.”
