The Revolution (6 page)

“I’ll be there.” I still don’t know how I was able to speak with him so close, his warmth filling my lungs.

Rochelle returns laughing and handing me a drink. “God, the line was insane.” She begins telling me a story about some guy hitting on her and Dex almost getting in a fight, but I don’t hear it. I just watch Kaz walk away. He turns back once with a sexy smirk and then joins the guys in the band.

I never made that concert. Mark had a game and he wanted me to be there to watch him play. Rochelle returned the jacket for me.

This is our second chance. Remembering that time at the beach and how he’s looking at me now, it’s not the same as he looked at the women frequenting the parties or the after-parties. There’s more in his smile for me. The tilt of the right side of his lips is more suggestive. There’s more emotion behind his brown eyes. There’s more in the way he touches me, as if
he
might be the one to get burned.

Inside the bar, the lights are so dim that it’s hard to see beyond the table we’re sitting around. We have a corner to ourselves and the table seats at least twelve. Other celebrities have stopped by to talk to the guys and tell them how great the concert was. Women have tried to talk their way into the VIP area and failed, so they linger near the bouncer, hoping they get spotted and invited in. I don’t blame them. All the guys are good-looking and they’re rock stars, so what’s not to be attracted to? I feel fortunate to have inside connections to get to hang with them, and really lucky I get to hang out with my friends. Speaking of, I elbow Rochelle. “Hey, talk to me.”

“Sorry.” She laughs.

I look at my glass that’s empty. “I need another drink. Wanna come with me?”

“I’ll come with you.” We both look across the table following the offer to find Kaz smiling. He holds his glass up and adds, “I need another and the waitress hasn’t restocked the bottles yet.”

Rochelle practically pushes me out of my seat. “Yeah, go. And order me a white wine while you’re at it.”

Kaz stands and offers me his hand, helping me up. He holds my hand high in the air as we move over everyone’s heads until we’re standing together at the end of the table. “What are you drinking?” he asks.

“A greyhound with a dash of orange juice and a twist of lime.”

“Sounds complicated.” We reach the edge of the bar and he leans on it, looking right at me. “Are you complicated, Lara?”

I answer honestly. “I’m not sure anymore.”

That makes him chuckle. “Okay.”

I lean on the bar next to him and ask, “What about you?”

“I try not to be, but shit happens.”

Nodding, I agree. “Yep, it sure does.” We place our orders. “I heard you bought a home.”

“I think everyone has heard that. For some reason the press finds every move I make very interesting.”

“Well,” I start, but suddenly feel awkward, and I never feel awkward talking about my business. I’m successful because I have a great eye for making generic spaces unique and comforting, modern and homey.
So why am I now hesitant, almost shy?

“You decorate houses, right?”

Feeling relieved by his lead in question, I reply, “Yes. And other spaces, some offices, but mainly homes.”

“I could use your help. Do you have time in your schedule to look at it?”

“I’d love to.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t want to just throw inflatable mattresses everywhere.”

Laughing, I tease, “Yeah, don’t do that. Anyway, they’re bad for your back. Just let me know what your schedule looks like and we’ll set up a date… I mean, time.”

I’m not sure if he caught my flub, but if he did, he lets it slide. “The owners are getting the rest of their stuff out today. I have a show in Indiana on Sunday and then we’re back. How does Tuesday night look for you?”

“I usually don’t work nights, but I know you’re busy, so I’ll make an exception.”

The drinks are set before us and he tells the bartender to add it to the tab. Turning back to me, he clinks his glass against mine. “Sometimes the exceptions are what the journey is all about.”

I swear my heart flutters from his words, or maybe it’s just his proximity to me thinking he might make an exception for me too. “Are we still talking about decorating appointments?” I ask coyly, my cheeks flaming hot.

Full of confidence, he leans down until he’s eye level with me. “Not at all.”

And just like that, I have a date… I mean a
meeting
with Kaz Fabian.

“COME SIT BY
me,” Kaz says. “We won’t have to yell to talk.”

My cheeks heat again and I’m starting to think this might be how it always is when I’m around him. I should use less blush, if this is the case. I’m also not sure why I’m so goofy over this guy. I mean, sure, he’s hot with his longish hair and soulful eyes that seem to be from another time. His body is rock hard, and he’s a musician, which speaks my body’s language, seeping under my skin. But it’s the way he looks at me. His eyes speak to me without him saying one single word.

I’m breathless as I slip into the seat next to him. My heart pulsing in time with the music, my thoughts releasing the guilt I was carrying earlier. I’m free. Free to do whatever I want, and right now, that’s Kaz. Leaning in so close his lips touch the shell of my ear, he whispers, “I hear you have a boyfriend.”

Not really a question, so I let it lie there between us long enough to take a sip. I know he’s recently single, but I don’t know the details of the breakup. Kaz’s phone lights up on the table in front of him, but he ignores it. “You can answer it if you need to,” I say.

He doesn’t look at the screen to see who’s calling before replying, “It’s not important.”

“You didn’t even look.”

When his eyes hit mine, they penetrate deeper than the surface of the conversation we’re having. “Nothing’s more important than living in the moment. And this moment is worth being present.”

His words momentarily stun me, then I ask, “You sure you’re only twenty-six?”

With a laugh under his breath, he looks around again. “I’m pretty sure and I like that you know my age.” Leaning closer, he adds, “As for me
only
being twenty-six, I’ve lived a lifetime or two in those years.”

“I don’t know much about you,” I say, pushing my fingers through my hair and hoping I don’t come off like a groupie. But the way he listens to me puts me at ease. “I’ve learned a few details over the last year from being around you, but I’d like to know more.”

His smile falters as he sits back. “I’d rather hear about you.”

“Nice role reversal. Are you shy?”

A wry grin pops into place. “Do I seem shy to you?”

I shake my head. “Why are you so mysterious?”

“Am I?” His brow furrows. “I find it hard to be mysterious in LA or when you’re in a band as big as
The Resistance
. My face is in the tabloids. Paparazzi seem to be everywhere. And my private life has been used for entertainment purposes by the media. So mysterious isn’t really a word that comes to mind when thinking about my life.” Resting his arms on the table, he adds, “But I have a few skeletons I’d like to keep in the closet. Now you on the other hand…”

Looking down, I turn the glass in my hand. “There’s nothing special going on here.”

“You don’t see what I see.” My gaze darts up, and I see his eyes set on mine. “Tell me about your relationship with the baseball player.”

“Why do you want to know about that?”

“I like to know about my competition. It’s easier to assess the opportunities.”

Competition? Opportunity? Is he really interested in me?
I laugh, liking his attention. “I’ve been warned about boys like you.”

He leans in really close, so close that the scruff blanketing his jaw tickles the skin behind my ear when he whispers, “I’m no boy, babe.” His words are drawn out and husky, his dulcet tone making me tingle all over.

When I turn, our lips are so close to touching that I start to move, but his hand captures the back of my head, and he asks, “Want to get out of here?”

I suck in an uneven breath, but manage to nod without fainting from swooning. Quick to his feet, he takes my hand, taking me to my feet with him. Rochelle looks between us. “Leaving?”

“We’re gonna go.”

She smiles and sits back. I trust Kaz, but I know Rochelle, and if she approves, it’s okay to go with him.

As we work our way toward the exit, Kaz looks back at me as if making sure I’m still there. He flashes a smile that is somewhere between pure sex and the sincerest of grins. I have no idea how he does that, but it must get him laid a lot. I’m not sure which one I prefer, but I really like the way his hand wraps around mine—gentle and secure, possessive and with purpose. With the smile and that hand holding together, I’d follow him anywhere he wants to go. How is that even possible? I’m not frivolous with my emotions, but here I am, eager to follow.

I tried carefree with Mark. That didn’t turn out well for either of us. Nothing about the way Kaz touches, speaks, or looks at me feels careless. It’s all ground, just like Kaz, with meaning, a depth that goes beyond good looks and talent. I’d venture to say by how our skin feels pressed together that it’s heart deep.

I hold on to him even tighter, knowing I have started to slip, maybe even begun to fall for him.

Out front, we get a cab, leaving the Suburban for the rest of the band to have when they’re ready to leave. We slide in and he looks at me. “Your place?”

I tell the driver my address and lean back. Kaz puts his arm around me and we ride in silence. I have so many thoughts rushing through my head, so many feelings running through my chest. I’m free, I remind myself. Free to do as I please,
like Mark has done when he
wasn’t
free
.

Kaz traces figure eights up my thigh, building the anticipation of what’s to come. Hopefully that will be me. My breathing deepens. It feels good to be touched—
desired
—the sensations sparking every nerve to life. This cab ride has got to be the longest fifteen minutes of my life.

After hitting what seems like every red light between the club and my place, we finally arrive. I practically trip out of the car to get him inside.

Kaz gives the driver a wad of bills and tells him to keep the change and we hurry to the door. He grabs me by the hand and spins me around until I’m pressed against him. His lips meet mine, his other hand rubbing my cheek gently. We’re out of breath when our lips part, our eyes bright from excitement. He says, “You never answered my question.”

“About?”

“The boyfriend.”

“We’re not togethe—”

My words are cut off by caressing lips and a tempting tongue. My back falls against the wood of the door, and the shattering of glass fills my ears.

We jump apart and look down. “Shit,” he says. “Sorry about that. I’ll clean it up.”

I’m still confused to what it is until I see a note amongst the red roses. “What is it?”

“A vase of flowers. My bad. I didn’t see them.”

“Me either.” I reach for the note and Kaz guides me over the broken glass. All I need to see is the one name for me to want to avoid this altogether—Mark. I drop the note back down and unlock the door. “Let’s get inside.”

As soon as we step inside, my purse is dropped and I’m grabbed, then pinned to the wall before the door even shuts. His mouth is on mine. He tastes of whiskey and the faintest of mint, and I can’t get enough. My nails run gently through his hair as his hands lift me up. I wrap my legs around his middle and kiss him hard while holding on to him tightly. I come up for air and open my eyes. Looking at him, I feel reckless, wild and crazy,
free
. There’s that word again and it feels so good. “The bedroom,” I mumble. “Down the hall.”

Kaz turns quickly, holding me to him, but I straighten my legs and he sets me down. I turn and this time I lead him, taking his hand, and walk to the bedroom. He grabs me right before I enter the room and spins me around. With my back to the doorframe and my breath coming out harshly, I look up at him wondering why he stopped us. “Hey,” he says, searching my eyes. “You sure? Once we go in there—”