Chapter Three

Lacey’s Concert Café had become a fixture in the South Beach social scene, and Vin played there on any Monday night he could manage from eight to ten. He never saw himself as a serious artist, not like his dad, but the strumming relaxed him, and Lacey swore advertising the CEO of Ferguson Holdings as her entertainment boosted otherwise slow sales.

He had a preset playlist, but every now and again he’d pluck out one of his dad’s original tunes. Nothing complicated, but every single song was an ode to the stereotypical Monday night need to drink after a hard day back to work. And tonight, more than most, he needed help to relax.

His conversation with his board still stuck in his head, and short of propositioning Reece—“hey, let’s date to help my chances at landing this investor who dropped me”—his options were limited. Sure, step one would be no longer dating the young hopefuls. He’d started it as a way to support the local artists, models, and musicians, and it became his thing. Still, lately, they made him feel…old. But the women his age either tried to change him or expected him to settle down, and he hadn’t met anyone yet he’d want to spend every single day with for the rest of his life.

“Amelie Archer just walked in.”

He’d been friends with Marco since Lacey’s had opened, and in that time, the man had gone through a serious breakup and overcome an almost debilitating car accident. He’d met Amelie when he’d DJ-ed at a festival, and they’d shared an intense four minutes at the crosswalk.

“Anytime you want me to introduce you, I will, you know.”

Marco drew the last cord and grinned up at Vin. “Unless I add four or five more zeros to the end of my taxable income, Amelie will never see me as a potential partner.”

Marco was a great guy, but he was right. “It’s her loss.”

Marco shrugged. “I’m heading back to the sound booth. See you at break.”

If Amelie was there, did that mean Reece was with her? His pulse kicked up a notch. The two women were practically joined at the hip. As he scanned the entrance, the bar area, and the booths, he saw only shadows with the stage lights blinding him, so unless Reece walked directly under an audience lamp, he had no real way to see her.

Didn’t matter.

Or at least it shouldn’t.

He had a set to play, and whether or not Reece Rowe was in the audience shouldn’t interest him.

But just in case she was—he ran his palms down the thighs of his jeans and took a deep breath—his first song would be “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks. That song always had him remembering Reece in her fancy dress, cringing at his dirty hands.

Had Simon really suggested he date her?

It wasn’t the worst idea. Now that he’d had time to process the situation, dating someone steady through the summer had merit. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d be using her for her family connections. Just her stellar reputation. But that somehow seemed worse. Dangerous.

Because ever since the fundraiser, she’d caught his attention in a way he couldn’t pinpoint, and that bothered him. She wasn’t his usual type. Not blonde. Not a model. Not an entertainer. He’d never backed down from a challenge, but something stopped him. And it had nothing to do with the revenge-y feeling of dating the girl too good for him. Or the prospect he might be able to win her over with some serious charm. No.

This feeling of hesitation, of uncertainty, had more to do with the excitement making his chest tight and his heart pound. He didn’t feel like this unless it was related to business, his company, or a new tech product.

For him to feel like this over a woman…no. Just. No.

…

No question, the man could sing.

Reece sipped her tall glass of cool white wine and let the deep, raspy tone of the song seduce her. She couldn’t look away, and she didn’t want to. The way Vincent Ferguson—Vin—wore that chambray shirt and jeans ignited wicked fantasies she’d never act upon. He had that rough and ready look promising one hell of an adventure. Stupid Amelie for putting the idea into her head. She’d had her fair share of dates with smooth talkers over the years, but nothing, no one, gave her stomach the low ache like the guy singing about complicated being overrated.

This guy was a thousand times removed from her rock music-listening neighbor or the hard-ass CEO she thought she’d come to know. How many different faces did the man have? Now, she could add sexy country crooner to self-made tech guru millionaire playboy philanthropist.

He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met, and maybe that said something sad about the people she kept company with. Her thoughts flew back to Friday night, when she’d been bored right up until Vin had followed her home. And here she was, standing at the far end of the bar, being seduced by her neighbor’s deep voice.

Why did the man have to sing country? It was her one weakness.

When the owner of the café approached her with a fresh glass of wine, Reece asked her, “How did you convince the CEO of Ferguson Holdings to sing for you?”

Lacey set down the Pinot Grigio on the bar and picked up the empty. “Short story is my investor, Simon Dimistar, is on Vin’s board, and when we opened, Simon sent him in here to audition. He’s played quite a few Monday nights since.”

How intriguing. She didn’t know Lacey well enough to ask for more details, so she settled with, “Wow. That’s so cool.”

The owner smirked. “Sure is. The group over there is most of his programming team. Monday night regulars.”

The young twentysomethings took up three tables to the left side of the stage. Even from where she stood, Reece could see several pitchers of beer and lots of empty plates. “Ah. Must be good for business.”

“I love my regulars.” She turned her head at someone else calling her name, and before walking away to help another customer, she said, “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Reece saw her brother walk in at the same time Amelie scoffed, picked up her purse, and brushed by him. Without pausing, Landon turned and followed Amelie outside. Reece almost followed her friend but instead stood rooted to the spot. Vin ended his set, resting his guitar on the stand and sauntering down the steps of the stage, grinning and waving at people as he made his way to the back of the café. The man certainly knew how to work a crowd, his easy charm visible even from across the room.

As Vin drew nearer, the sound guy stepped out of the booth. “Great set, Vin.”

Vin clapped the guy on the shoulder and turned him toward the bar. “Thanks, man. What do they have on tap tonight?”

She knew the exact moment Vin spotted her, not because their gazes caught and held, but because her entire body flushed with heat under his warm appraisal.

“Reece, wow, you look”—he grinned, ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head—“amazing.”

No question. Being charmed Friday night by CEO Vincent was dangerous, but being flirted with by this Vin, country singer in the chambray shirt, was lethal. He sounded so genuine in his compliment, and the way he glanced at her with those intense whiskey-colored eyes filled with promise…

It was suddenly very hot in the café, despite the chilly air conditioning and her wearing only a tank top and jeans.

“You look good, too.” She waved her hand. “Chambray suits you, and I like the name—Vin.”

He gave her a warm smile. “Oh yeah. Most people do call me Vin. Even in the office.”

Was that permission for her to call him by the nickname? She had a strange sense of satisfaction they’d breached the formalities wall. In all their interactions, she’d only ever used Vincent, and he’d never corrected her. “I have to admit, I’ve heard you play your guitar at the condo, but here, I mean, you’re really great. Not very CEO-like. Are you sure you’re not his twin?” She snapped her mouth shut to keep from gushing any more.

He chuckled and gestured to her tank top. “Looks like we’re both a bit out of character tonight.”

On most days, she ran around in jeans and tank tops. But Vin didn’t know that. In fact, she guessed he’d seen her only in passing on her way to an official function, so maybe he really did think she wore suits and ball gowns all the time. Inwardly, she sighed. Sometimes the self-inflicted image was tiresome.

It took her only a moment to throw aside her polite facade. “I’d say one of us is right in character.”

What would he say to that? Maybe next time she stood on her balcony for morning coffee, she’d do it in her yoga pants and a T-shirt. How would he react to her without makeup? With her hair in a sloppy bun?

So while his wearing a chambray shirt might be out of character for him, she wasn’t out of character. Tonight, Vin Ferguson was seeing the real Reece Rowe.

A dark shadow passed over his face before he pressed his lips into a firm line. “Noted.” Without another word, he waved to the bartender and turned his well-shaped shoulder on her.

Noted? She heard his dismissive tone, saw his dismissive action, and couldn’t quite reconcile what the hell had just happened. Was he giving her the ice act because he didn’t like her casual outfit? He’d just complimented her on it. But if anything, the chilly change in his attitude showed her that like most men, Vin wanted the Reece Rowe in designer skirts and stilettos. Jeans-wearing Reece didn’t make his radar.

She may not be wearing her classy attire, but she still had class. As she was about to confront him regarding his atrocious manners, a tiny brunette launched herself into his arms, and turned as he was, Reece had a clear view of the girl’s unbridled grin as she closed her eyes and squeezed her arms around his neck. An uncomfortable anger tightened in Reece’s gut. She should’ve known Vin had groupies. One more in the long line. But instead of feeling sorry for the poor girl, Reece kind of wanted to know what it would feel like to wrap her arms around Vin’s neck.

When they finally ended the hug, Vincent said, “Tonia! What are you doing here?”

The girl swatted at his arm. “Don’t sound too happy to see me.”

“I am. I just want to know why. It’s a school night.”

Reece blew out a breath. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Excuse you?” That came from Vin.

She froze, realizing what she’d muttered out loud.

Both Vin and the girl shot her matching shocked expressions. The girl looked like a high schooler, even though she was pretty sure Vin meant college. Still, he had to be at least thirty. What the hell was he doing dating a woman ten years younger?

Twisting the wineglass in her hands, she looked down into the pale liquid. “Nothing.” No amount of etiquette and finishing school sessions would get her out of this mess. And to think, she’d been the one about to lecture him on poor manners. Feeling small, she said, “I didn’t say anything.”

She could tell from the look on his face he didn’t believe her, so when he said, “Sure, Princess, whatever you say,” she shouldn’t have been surprised. But all the insecurities she’d buried over the years rushed back without warning. The Princess comment hit a little too close to home. Princesses had the whole world watching their every move, and as the adopted baby of the family and only girl, she’d grown up paranoid she’d trip on air. But that didn’t stop her from being annoyed at his quick shift in attitude. One minute they’d been conversing like normal adults, flirting even, and in the next moment, he’d given her the cold shoulder and wrapped his groping hands around a groupie…who appeared to be laughing at Reece.

Seriously? The tiny coed found her humorous?

As she lifted her well-practiced snobby armor in place, the girl reached around Vin and stuck out her hand. “I’m Tonia, Vin’s sister.”

Sister.

If the floor could just open up and swallow her, she’d be relieved. But it didn’t. Too bad her life wasn’t some action-drama with special effects. Even worse, her manners fled as she stared at Vin’s sister’s outstretched hand. Vin had a baby sister. That was why he’d followed her home from the fundraiser. She should have believed him when he said he’d wanted to make sure Reece got home safely. But a tiny part of her had thought it was more than that. That he was interested.

How could she forget, for even a moment, that the nightcap wouldn’t mean anything to him? How embarrassing.

Tonia wiggled her fingers and grinned. “Come on. Shake my hand. I don’t have germs. Well, I might. I’m an assistant kindergarten teacher over on the other coast, but”—she wiggled her fingers again—“I swear I wash regularly.”

Vin frowned. “Leave her alone, Tonia.”

Finally, Reece sputtered, “Oh, of course, no, I didn’t think—” She grabbed Tonia’s hand and pumped several times. “Pleasure to meet you. I didn’t know Vin had a sister.”

Tonia punched Vin in the arm. “Well, he does. Me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a flashing phone. “Oh! It’s Jodi.” To Vin, she asked, “Are you done for the night? Or is there another set?”

“One more set. In fifteen.”

Tonia slipped the phone back. “’K. Be right back.” To Reece, she said, “Great to finally put a face to a name. Well, face to face, not just whatever I found on the internet.”

She left, leaving Reece to wonder what Tonia meant by that cryptic remark. Face to a name. What had Vin said about her?

As if reading her mind, he said, “I told her you’re the one who helped raise all that money for the”—he made air quotes—“forgotten foster children.”

The air quotes made it seem like he was ridiculing her, so she lifted her chin and countered with, “It’s an important cause. Children entering the foster care system are scared and stressed, and the foster parents need support in providing a loving environment. Money doesn’t fix everything, but the funds raised go a long way in making sure the children have more than just the clothes on their backs.”

If she hadn’t been adopted by the Rowes, she could’ve been raised in the foster system and had a very different life than she currently enjoyed, so excuse her if she didn’t take nicely to someone mocking her choice of charity. Some of the foster children had parents who actually wanted to get on their feet and get their kids back.

His mouth opened and closed. He swallowed, took a swig of beer, and then swallowed again. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, then.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” She hated when men gave her that dismissive tone. What she thought mattered. Her causes weren’t silly. They were important to a lot of people.

“Look, Reece, we seem to be having two entirely different conversations here. So I’m going to finish my beer and get back on stage. Thank you for shaking Tonia’s hand. For whatever reason, my sister admires you.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she said, “Oh, well, that’s nice.”

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

He tapped the sound guy on the shoulder before heading back to the front, stopping to speak with people as he passed them. She watched, her wineglass empty, her brain full of questions that apparently he wouldn’t stick around to answer.

Like what the hell just happened?