“Miss Duffy?” She startled at the whiny, high-pitched voice of The Hulk at her shoulder. She turned and plastered on a smile, reaffirming the most pertinent course toward her goal. An emotionless, indifferent, unthinking, idiot. Someone she’d feel no regret over, forget in no time.
“Hello, Mr. Fantome.”
“Call me Dick, please. Everyone does.” He shot her that too-white smile, in that fake tan face.
“I’m sure.” She took the arm he offered and followed him to their table. This was going to be a long, exhausting night, but there were usually many in the face of research and attaining one’s goals.
* * * *
Beck took his place on the hidden balcony above the dining room. He pulled out the bench to the baby grand and sat as he tried to calm his nerves. He had a perfect view of the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.
She was a romantic. And he was nothing but a cynical jackass. A self-destructive, heartless asshole who was about to commit yet another selfish act. While he wanted Jude with every breath, what he should do was to stay far away and leave her to her safe, silly little dreams.
Especially since she was trying to save him.
She saw him as a mourning widower who might be hurt by a clandestine affair.
And yet, he was going to fuck it all up by sleeping with the most intriguing, irresistible woman he’d ever met, and then leave before he tore her life apart like he did so many others.
It was his only option. Get in and get out.
Could she handle it? Could he?
He didn’t have time to ponder the questions. She’d set her sights on Fantome. A man Beck couldn’t trust to be gentle. Beck would give her what she wanted then let her take her newfound knowledge into the future. A safe future. A future without him. And he’d carry the memory of her with him into his lonely abyss.
He placed his hands on the keyboard and got lost in the music that was such a part of his life. He couldn’t play in front of other people. Not anymore. He’d refused since Elizabeth had died. Music was a reminder of his how his destructive ways had killed her. It had become a window to his barren soul. But here, in the shadows, he could let the songs take him away without anyone in the dining room knowing whose soul was being bared behind the notes.
* * * *
“So, my current net worth is one point two million.” The Hulk was killing her with his garlic breath and the apparent need to lean as close as possible whenever he spoke so he could glance down her blouse. Ignoramus.
“That’s wonderful.” She sipped at her second Long Island Iced Tea. She was becoming rather fond of the drink. Especially tonight. Alcohol might be the only thing that kept her sane.
Fantome smiled as the waiter arrived and placed a new drink next to Jude’s plate. “So, what’s your favorite kind of music, Sweet Cheeks. Rap? Maybe Rock and Roll?”
Oh, for God’s sake. It was like she was on the speed version of “Teen Jeopardy.” “I prefer classical or vintage rock. Unchained Melody would be one of my favorites but, I have to say, I have a true affinity for The Beatles. My parents always sang Hey Jude to me before bed.” She tasted the new drink and glanced at the waiter. “What’s this?”
“Sparkling water sent by a secret admirer.” He winked then took his leave.
Thank goodness her cell phone beeped, as The Hulk asked which was her favorite, SpongeBob or Patrick. She had no idea whom he was speaking of so she just smiled and looked at the text.
Did you know when you’re frustrated you purse your lips and create the sexiest dimple to the left of your mouth?
Jude inhaled.
And did you realize when you discuss your work your eyes sparkle with mischief and wonder?
Who is this? She texted back. As if she already didn’t know.
If your dinner date looks down your shirt one more time I’m going to hit him…again. You’ve had enough liquor tonight.
Jude glanced around the room. Of course, Mr. Beckette wouldn’t be here. He was an employee. But he was watching from somewhere like a ghost in the night.
How did you get my number?
I have my ways.
She smiled. Stop bothering me. I’m on a date.