Chapter Thirty-Two

Quiz Me Baby One More Time

On the way back to my house, Darius kept asking about Dax.

“You barely knew him, and you asked him to move in with you?”

“I knew nothing about him.” I laughed, watching the streetlights as we zoomed past. It was one o’clock in the morning, basically the only time of day traffic in Chicago moved quickly. “It was a right place/right time situation. My friend Kelly had just moved out of my basement apartment, and I was there when Dax found out he and his dog no longer had a place to stay.” I shrugged. “I offered.” I turned to Darius. “Also, I needed a teammate for the citywide trivia tournament, so this was my way of forcing him to play with me.”

Darius frowned. Something had shifted in him since we spoke to Dax, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was he jealous? Could he tell there was something going on with us? He knew about Rob’s existence, but Darius had never pressed me for more information on him.

“He’s kind of like a—” I almost said “younger brother,” but that sure as hell wasn’t right. “He’s just a guy who lives in my basement.”

Guilt crept in. Though I usually thought through every ramification of every move before taking it, I’d behaved recklessly with Dax. I’d allowed my libido to lead me instead of my head. I’d been so, so foolish, and in the process I may have hurt Darius and—though he had no idea Dax even existed—Rob.

The truth was, my little flirtation with Dax didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. This thing with Darius—or the other thing with Rob—held actual possibility for a future. I reached for Darius’s hand, to show him some affection, to prove that I was fully invested in this potential relationship with him, but he picked that moment to clutch the steering wheel with both hands.

Oh, shit. I’d really blown it.

When we pulled up in front of my house, Darius put the car in park. “Annie, it’s not my place…”

My heart pounded in my chest.

He turned to me, eyes serious. “First of all, I’m not accusing you of anything.” He shook his head. “That’s not what this is. Tonight, I’m speaking as a friend.”

“Okay…” Panic settled inside me. I wished he’d hurry up and say whatever it was he wanted to say. Call me out, tell me we were over. Whatever it was, I could handle it. It was his calm tone that unnerved me.

“You and I have gotten to know each other a little bit, and we’ve discussed it—we want the same things.”

“Right. We do.”

“Dax can’t give you that.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him that Dax wasn’t even truly on my radar, to reiterate that he was and would only ever be just my roommate.

He wiped an invisible spot off the dashboard. “Again, as a friend, I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone who’s never going to be able to give you that commitment or put you before their artistic career.”

I didn’t have feelings for Dax, but I wasn’t about to argue that point with Darius. “Monica Feathers,” I said.

“You know about her?”

I shrugged. “Google does.”

Darius sighed. “Monica is an amazing woman, and we cared deeply about each other. But to stay together, one of us was going to have to give up on their dream, and neither of us was willing to do that.”

“I’m really sorry, Darius,” I said, “and I understand where you’re coming from, but Dax and I…there’s nothing even going on there.” I pushed away the memory of his eyes staring intently up at mine as he knelt before me at the piano bench. “It’s like I said. He just lives in my basement.”

Darius patted my knee. “Please know that if you’re questioning anything, if you’re having second thoughts about what we’re doing”—he pointed to himself and to me—“trust that you’re making the right choice. Rob or me, whomever you choose, you won’t regret it. The other way lies heartbreak.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“I appreciate that,” I said. “Thanks. And whatever you thought you saw, don’t worry about it. I’m clearheaded about what we’re doing. I want commitment, and I’m not someone who acts without thinking or makes foolish choices based on lust or id or whatever you want to call it.”

Darius gave me a quick hug and said he’d call me soon, and I left the car.

I dragged my body up the front steps and yanked off my shoes as soon as I entered the house. Joanne ran to greet me, and I wrapped my arms around her. “Hi, friend.” I sighed. I was beat. This having-to-take-care-of-a-dog thing was nice until it wasn’t. “I bet you need to go out.”

I changed into my pajamas, washed my face, and took Joanne for a very quick stroll around the block. I kept thinking about what Darius had said. I should probably listen to him. He spoke from experience. I’d seen his face in those pictures with Monica Feathers—it looked a lot like my expression as I’d caught my reflection in the window when I was with Dax.

But that was just a goofy crush, my silly body reacting to Dax in a way that made my very responsible mind howl with laughter. Him being a musician aside, he was way too young for me, and he was going through a divorce. He was just a nice distraction for me, as I probably was for him. I knew that. Nothing was actually going to happen—at least beyond what had happened already.

We’d had our little fun, and now it was over.

By the time Joanne and I got back from our walk, it was after one thirty—way past my bedtime for a Monday night. Dax still wasn’t home, meaning he was probably out with that shiny-haired girl. Good for him. He could do what he wanted.

And I would do what I wanted. I settled onto the couch with Joanne and turned on The Great British Baking Show.

“You’re really going to like this, Joanne,” I said, wrapping one arm around her big, furry body. “It’s very soothing.”

This was nice. This was a mature, reasonable way for a woman my age to end her evening—on the couch with a dog and Paul Hollywood.

I yawned and tried to let the calming British accents wash over me, but I kept finding myself glancing toward the front hallway every so often, thinking I heard a key in the door.

“This show is making me hungry. We’ve got to get ourselves some doughnuts tomorrow,” I told Joanne.

I wondered if Dax would be here tomorrow for the doughnuts. Or…if he’d be alone. Again I glanced toward the door.

Stop it. Dax was a young, single guy who was allowed to go off with a cute girl he met backstage and do the kind of stuff we’d attempted to do on the piano bench the other night. He had his life, and I had mine. He had sexy girls with shiny hair. I had twelve Brits trying to make scones. Not to mention, I’d committed myself to a mature, pragmatic relationship with either Rob or Darius. They were in the same place I was. Dax, divorced at twenty-seven, was smack in the middle of his prime mistake-making years.

I hugged Joanne and wiped my eye. “Maybe I’m allergic to you.” A lone tear splashed against her back.

A few minutes later, the front door finally opened, and Joanne jumped, barking, from the couch. I cautiously stood and stepped toward the door, bracing myself for what I’d find there. Dax had crouched down and was rubbing Joanne behind the ears, nuzzling his nose against hers. He was alone.

“Hey,” I said, standing there with my arms folded behind my back. He was home, and he hadn’t brought anyone with him.

My body immediately flooded with relief and then immediate annoyance that I’d feel any sort of way about Dax coming home alone.

He looked up, surprised. “What are you still doing awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I paused. I should just say good night and go to bed. Instead I said, “You’re alone.”

He stood. “What are you talking about?”

I shrugged, my shoulders staying up near my ears. “That shiny-haired girl you were talking to…”

“Michelle?” He laughed heartily. “That’s Kat the bassist’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” My insides warmed. The shiny-haired girl had just been a friend.

He stepped closer to me. “Were you jealous?”

“No.” I shook my head, chuckling. “Just curious.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He took another step toward me, and suddenly the hallway felt way too small. I could practically feel the heat emanating from his body a few feet away. “And what about you and the Man on Main Street?”

“He went home.” I paused. “Are you jealous?” My chest heaved, and suddenly I became acutely aware of my lips.

“Fuck yeah, I’m jealous.” He crossed to me in two strides and cupped his hands on my cheeks. His lips crashed against mine, claiming me. My legs turned to jelly as I melted into him. My brain kept screaming at me to stop, while my body arched into him.

Finally, my mind won out. I pulled away, pressing my fingers to my lips. I needed a moment to figure out what this was.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” I shook my head.

He frowned, his eyes watching me intently.

Damn it. I wanted this. I wanted him. I was seriously considering settling down—forever—with two very nice, very respectable men, and it hit me that I still had an oat or two to sow. I had been nothing but utterly responsible my entire life. Darius could warn me against Dax as a serious potential partner, but not as a fling. “If—if—we do…anything…it’s just for tonight,” I said. “You understand my situation, and I know you just got out of a marriage. This would be you and me finishing what we started the other night and nothing more than that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll have our fun”—I wiped my hands together, easy-peasy, ignoring the flush creeping up my back—“and then we’ll go our separate ways, to our own bedrooms, no muss, no fuss.”

“Well, maybe a little muss.” He flashed me a crooked grin that nearly sent me into a tailspin. I was a goner.

Enough talking. All the lusty sensations I’d felt while watching him up on stage tonight had returned. “Are we going to do this on the piano?”

“I just had it tuned.” He hesitated a moment, as if weighing his options. Then he stepped close, lifted me effortlessly into his arms, and carried me up to my bedroom. He set me on the edge of the bed and stepped back.

“You want me to tell you what to do?” I asked, my body suddenly missing his warmth.

“No. I’m going to tell you this time.”

A spark of excitement hit me. I was in charge of so many aspects of my life. I had to be the thoughtful one, the tactful one (at least professionally), the accountable one. I made responsible decisions all day about business and medicine and health. The very idea of this hot, twenty-seven-year-old pianist/bartender ordering me around thrilled me in a way I hadn’t expected it to.

“Okay,” I said, leaning back on my hands.

“First of all, where’s your phone?”

“Downstairs.”

“Leave it there.”

My mouth dried up a bit at that. I was rarely more than an arm’s length away from my phone. Even in yoga class, I broke the rules and kept it tucked under a towel.

Dax sensed my hesitation. “Did any of your patients have a stroke today?”

I shook my head.

“Do you think they can manage without you for the next twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes?”

Dax squinted. “I’m not sure if you’re thinking that’s long…or short…?” He shook his head. “Anyway, it’s been a little while for me, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for two days, and probably a lot longer than that. So I just want to set expectations at a manageable level.”

I grinned. Damn it, he looked so cute standing there bossing me around. “Okay.”

“Okay.” His shoulders relaxed. “So, stand up.”

I stood.

“Take off your pajamas.”

I lifted my T-shirt over my head and let my soft pants pool in a puddle around my feet, leaving me standing in front of him in just a strapless bra and pink panties. Dax’s intense eyes fixed on my midsection sent the butterflies in my stomach soaring. “Next?” I said, chuckling.

“Did you just laugh at me?” He stepped toward me, eyes mirthful. “I don’t think you realize. I’m the captain now.”

“Aye, captain. What are my orders?”

He touched my chin and tilted my face toward him. His lips touched mine softly, sending rippling waves of pleasure right through me. This just got serious. “I played a concert for two long, hot, sweaty hours tonight. Get in the shower,” his lips told mine.