TENSE - Volume One (The TENSE Duet Book 1) Page 6

  "You remember me from Rise and Shine?" Her eyes widen. "I didn't realize that you were a fan, Nick."

  I'm not. On the ride over, Cheyenne handed me a sheet of paper with ten pointers about Pamela. It's my publicist's way of breaking the ice. If I go into an interview prepared, I have more control. Today was no exception. I asked Pamela about her time spent in London where my first book was set and that helped her loosen up.

  "I caught the show a few times," I segue smoothly. "I remember you had a great rapport with Cadence Sutton, the chef."

  "Cadence?" She straightens her stance. "You're probably thinking of the connection between her fiancé, Tyler Monroe, and me. He had no problem teaching me a few things in the kitchen."

  I squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the image of Pamela nude next to a hot stove.

  "Cadence is a friend of a friend."

  "Ah," she says on a sigh. "She's on set today. You should stop by and say hi, or I can introduce you."

  I like food. I love meeting beautiful women. What possible harm can come from a simple introduction between Sophia's best friend and me?

  Chapter 12

  Sophia

  "What the hell is this?" I look around the small restaurant eyeing every patron as I search for my best friend. "This doesn't make sense."

  Nicholas is standing next to the table. The very same table that the hostess directed me to after I told her I was meeting someone for lunch. I specifically gave her the name the reservation was booked under. Sutton.

  Since Cadence has been after me for weeks to try out this new vegan sandwich place, I agreed this morning through text. She told me to meet her here at noon sharp and that the reservation, for two, would be under her name.

  It's been more than a week since I heard a peep from Nicholas. I thought he'd finally given up and although a small part of me wished he hadn't, I accepted it as fate. I had jotted down a note in my phone to find my own tech guy next week if I hadn't heard from Joe by then.

  Now, I guess I can ask for Joe's number myself since Nicholas is my lunch date and not my best friend.

  "Where's Cadence?" I cross my arms over my chest. "And why are you here?"

  "Sit, Sophia." He rounds the table to pull on the back of the empty chair. "Please sit down and let me explain."

  I catch a whiff of his cologne when he leans in to touch my arm. It's sophisticated and masculine and matches the way he looks today. He's dressed less casually, and more business-like in dark pants and a light blue sweater. "Don't touch me. I'm not sitting because I have no intention of staying. What have you done with Cadence? She's pregnant you know."

  "You make it sound like I did something sinister to her." He wiggles his brows, his face mere inches from mine. "Cadence suggested I come. I met her this morning and she offered for me to take her place to have lunch with you."

  "Cadence wouldn't do that to me," I say even though I know she would. Every day for the past week she's told me to reach out to Nicholas. I've complained about my schedule being too full and not having time to date, but her persistence hasn't waned.

  Just this morning she told me that she'd force me to text him during lunch. It seems she decided to take action on her own.

  "How did you meet her?" I take a deep breath to steady my pulse. "Did she call your publicist to get your number?"

  His voice is even as he studies my face. "No, why would she do that?"

  I purse my lips. "She's a fan of your work and I told her last week that we met."

  "So you thought she was looking for an autograph or maybe another advance copy of Action's Cause?"

  Or maybe she just wanted me to see him again.

  Since we're running in a circle of confusion with no end in sight, I step on the brake and go for the truth. "No, Nicholas. Cadence thinks I should go out with you. I thought she contacted you to arrange this lunch."

  "Really?" His cerulean blue eyes shine when he smiles. "I liked her the moment I met her. Now, I like her even more."

  "You said you met her today?" I leave the question open-ended on purpose.

  "I was uptown doing a pre-taped interview. Cadence happened to be in the same building in a different studio. The woman who interviewed me made the introduction."

  I finally sit and wait for him to do the same before I speak. "You're telling me that you just happened to be at the Rise and Shine studios this morning?"

  "Pamela, the host of the show I did the interview for, used to work with Cadence."

  "I've met Pamela," I say in a soft voice. "It's a small world."

  "Manhattan is a small place," he affirms. "I was glad to meet her. Chef Sutton is very talented."

  I nod, my eyes flicking to his face. "She is. She's an incredible cook."

  "It was her idea for me to meet you here for lunch, Sophia." He waves the approaching server away with a dismissive hand. "If you'd rather I leave, I will, but I'd prefer to stay."

  Cadence set me up. She put me in the very same position I put Mr. Foster in. The glaring difference is that I know why she did it and I'm grateful. "Stay. It's not every day I get to eat vegan with the one and only Nicholas Wolf."

  ***

  "How does a person realize they can write novels about police detectives?" I ask after I swallow the last bite of the salad I ordered.

  Nicholas had finished his grilled vegetable and pesto sandwich before I was half done. Since then he's sat and watched me eat while asking generic questions about my time spent in Florida.

  "My father is retired NYPD. My brother works in homicide. It fit for me to write about it."

  I lean my elbows on the table on either side of my plate. "Do you base your books on actual cases?"

  He motions for the server standing nearby to clear our plates. "I go to my dad or my brother if I have a general question but neither has ever offered specifics about a case. I don't ask. It's understood that what happens at work stays there."

  That's the reply I expected. When I was a child, the man who lived next door to us was a police officer. His job and his family were his life. He was a hero to me and whenever I saw him come home from work dressed in his uniform, I'd feel enormous respect and reverence. I might not have completely understood the sacrifices police officers make back then, but I did know that he was special.

  "Is it hard writing about death?" I blurt that out just as the server reaches for my plate. He hesitates briefly before he clears all the dishes.

  "Death is only the beginning of the story. Understanding why the death happened is the part that can be challenging."

  "You're the author." I look down at my watch. "If you don't know why the death happened, who does?"

  "You have eight minutes before you need to be back." He points at the large silver watch on his wrist. "Your office is three minutes away if you walk briskly that means I have exactly five more minutes with you."

  "Eight if you walk me back to the office."

  His smile is cocky. "At least thirty if I come up with you and say hello to Gabe."

  "Gabriel," I say curtly. "He hates it when anyone calls him Gabe. His brother does it and it never ends well."

  "Gabe it is." He stands and reaches for my coat that I'd slung over the back of an empty chair next to us. "I'll bet you dinner tomorrow evening that if I call him Gabe, he'll just nod and smile."

  "Dinner tomorrow?" I stand and turn my back to him so he can help me with my coat. "As in, we have dinner if he nods and smiles and we don't have dinner if he gets pissed?"

  "No." His fingertips brush the skin at the back of my neck as he gently tugs my hair out from beneath the collar of my coat. "If he nods and smiles, you'll let me cook for you and if he gets pissed, you'll cook for me."

  A shiver of excitement races up my spine when I turn sharply to face him. "That's a serious wager."

  "If you're not sure you can win, I understand."

  Cadence's words about giving him a chance echo through my mind. I know I'll lose the bet. Mr. Foster will likely adopt the nickna
me Gabe if his favorite novelist calls him that. He won't get pissed, that I know for sure.

  "You have a bet." I hold out my hand. "Dinner tomorrow it is."

  He wraps his hand around mine and raises it to his mouth. His soft lips trace a path over my palm just as he leans in and whispers, "I can't wait to cook for you tomorrow."

  Chapter 13

  Nicholas

  "You didn't complain about the menu, Sophia." I hold back a smile. "Thank you for that."

  She skims a white linen napkin over her mouth. "Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches are two of my favorite things. It was snowing on my way over, so I can't think of anything more perfect to eat on a night like tonight."

  You. You'd be perfect to eat on a night like tonight.

  "I made the soup from scratch." I look over my shoulder at the mountain of dishes in the sink. "I want you to know that I didn't just open a can of soup and pour it into a pot."

  Her gaze follows mine and she visibly cringes at the sight of the work she thinks I have ahead of me. I won't be touching a single dirty dish. I'll leave them until tomorrow when the cleaning staff I hired comes in for one of their twice weekly visits. They'll have the kitchen looking like polished perfection within an hour. "I can help with those, Nicholas. I have lots of experience washing dishes."

  "It would be a crime to wash dishes in that dress." I take a swallow of the wine she brought with her. Surprisingly, it pairs perfectly with our modest meal. "If you're offering to do them in the nude, the dish soap is under the sink."

  A blush sprints up her slender neck to her cheeks. "I don't wash dishes in the nude."

  "There's a first time for everything."

  The tip of her tongue slicks her bottom lip as her gaze drops to the emerald green sheath dress she's wearing. "I'll skip the dishes."

  "Fair enough." I pour more wine into both our glasses. "I saw you eyeing the piano before dinner. I'd love a private concert."

  She had stopped to run her index finger along the keys shortly after I invited her in. I'd texted her earlier, offering to send a car to pick her up but she was adamant about coming here on her own. I gave her my address and paced my apartment for an hour before she finally texted me to say she was in the lobby. Once she was at my door and I took her coat, I saw the tension in her shoulders. She's relaxed now, but her guard is still up. That's evident in the way her knee high black boots are tapping a rhythmic beat on the hardwood floor.

  "I haven't played in a while." She sets her elbow on the table. "I think I could manage a little something."

  I'll take anything I can get. I want her to feel at ease. "Whenever you're ready, the piano is all yours."

  "I wish," she says as she stands. "A piano is the first thing on my list when I make it big in the fashion world. No, wait, it's the second. First, I'll get a place of my own that overlooks the city and then I'll buy a piano that I'll put right in front of the window so I can look out at New York while I play."

  I have both of those things now and can't say that I appreciate either that much. The piano came with the apartment. I'd debated having it carted out after I moved in, but it brings a touch of sophistication to the space that I like. My brothers keep telling me that it's a waste to have it here, but I've never viewed it that way. It's a reminder of the summer I took piano lessons when I was ten-years-old. It's the only thing I've ever quit. One day I'll take it up again and prove to myself that my dad's words about reaching and attaining the impossible are true. I just need to get my fingers to cooperate.

  "So you've never learned how to play?" She motions toward the main room where the piano is. "How can you not when you have that staring you in the face every day?"

  "I'd like to learn," I say as I watch the sway of her ass as she walks through my apartment. "Maybe you can teach me sometime."

  "I'm a horrible teacher." She looks back over her shoulder at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I don't have the patience. I wish I did."

  "We could do a trial run." I inch up behind her as she stands next to the baby grand piano. "One lesson and if I'm hopeless, you'll give up."

  "I'll consider it." She touches the bench in front of the piano. "May I?"

  "Please." I study her profile as she sits in place, the hem of her dress tucked under her knees.

  "This piano is exquisite." She runs her finger along the gentle curve of the music rack. "The one I used to play back home in Florida looked like it came out of a saloon from the 1920s."

  I stop mid-sip of my wine to laugh. "Why can I picture that?"

  She laughs, her gaze still riveted to the keys. "It was like it belonged on the set of an old western movie. It was never tuned properly so I did the best I could. My music teacher had the piano of my dreams, or so I thought until today."

  "You can come over and play this one whenever you want." I deliberately keep my tone light. "I'm not one to turn down a private performance by my favorite dress designer."

  "Let's see how my debut goes and then we'll talk." She flips her head back to look into my eyes. "Promise you won't laugh if I'm rusty."

  "I can't play a note, Sophia." I raise my glass in the air. "I assure you that laughing is the last thing I'll do once you start."

  Her top teeth grab hold of her bottom lip and the only thing I want is to feel that for myself. I haven't pushed her even though I've wanted to kiss those red lipstick stained lips since the first moment I saw her on the subway. I've surprised myself with the level of restraint I'm showing. My resolve is weakening though, especially since we're alone in my apartment and her nipples are now visibly hard points beneath the thin fabric of the dress she's wearing.

  "I need to warm up. Cover your ears while I do that."

  I place the wine glass on the piano and do as I'm told.

  She stares at me for a long minute before she bursts out laughing. "I was joking."

  "Jesus," I mutter under my breath. "You can make me do anything."

  "Anything?" Her left brow perks. "I'm going to test that theory."

  "Tonight?" I ask. I take a deep breath before I continue because I know the words I'm about to say come with a risk. She could walk the hell out of here and never look back or she could stay and contemplate the possibility of something developing between us. "Say you'll test it tonight, Sophia, because I promise if you asked me to do anything to you, I would."

  There's no blush this time, her eyes don't leave mine. Instead she swallows hard and then, finally, turns back to the piano. "Sit and listen, Nicholas. Just relax and let the music flow through you."

  Chapter 14

  Sophia

  I took an entire three minutes to debate what I'd play for him. Typically, when someone asks me to play the piano, I'll dive into the easiest song I know; Mozart's Moonlight Sonata. I can play it with my eyes closed but I didn't want to revert to the familiar. Instead, I chose Schumann's Arabeske. It's a piece I struggled with for more than three months before I finally perfected it in my senior year of high school.

  As I finished the last note and opened my eyes, I turned to see Nicholas sitting in a leather chair less than a foot away, his eyes glued to my hands.

  "Sophia," he whispers now, a full thirty seconds after I regrettably took my fingers from the keys. "That was breathtaking. I don't think I've ever heard anything more beautiful."

  It was good. The music flowed through me. It didn't hurt that this piano is tuned to perfection. My impulse is to play another song and then another. I could literally sit here all night and savor the sound of this beautiful instrument.

  "Your piano is magnificent." I stare at the open lid. "If I had it, I'd never be able to tear myself away from it. This is my addiction."

  "I can see why." He taps his earlobe. "I can hear why. You have a gift for this. You must know how incredible you are."

  I blush, but it's not from the compliment. It's from the look on his face. He's mesmerized. My first piano teacher would repeat during each of my lessons that my goal was to captivate thos
e who heard me play. I'd search for that certain look in the eyes of the people who came to my recitals. I didn't see it at first, but as my body learned to appreciate and master the music, I began to see it more and more.

  "I know that I'm good," I admit without faltering. "I could have been better if I'd have chosen to pursue this."

  "Why didn't you? Was it because you wanted to design clothing?"

  That's obviously part of it. The other is that my parents didn't see a sustainable future for me as a professional pianist. I didn't either. I never wanted my passion to play to morph into an obligation. I play because it brings me inner peace, not because I'm dependent on it for a paycheck.

  "I love designing more than I love playing." I turn on the bench so I'm facing him. "At one time my heart was split in two but I want to see my designs on people. I play the piano for a different reason than I design. Playing fuels the creative part of me and designing is the outlet."

  "They go hand-in-hand." He clasps his hands together before he steeples his index fingers to bring them to his lips, his elbows resting on his knees. "When's the last time you played?"

  "There used to be an independent music store a block from my apartment." I place my hands in my lap. "I'd stop there at least a few times a week on my way home from work to play. The owner didn't mind. When he decided to close his shop last summer he asked if I wanted to buy the piano, but I couldn’t afford it."

  His shoulders lower as his hands tense. "I told you earlier that you can stop by to play this one whenever you want. I meant that."

  It's a generous offer that I'm seriously considering. Not only would it give me a chance to play, but it would mean more time spent with him. I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged him. He looks at me like he wants to eat me up, but his words and his actions are restrained. He's not rushing me into something I may not be ready for and for that I'm grateful.