When the cab drew to a halt in front of the restaurant she’d chosen, she had half a mind to tell the driver to circle the block until she’d had her fill of kissing Kellen, but they’d probably run out of gas before that happened.
When they stood on the sidewalk surrounded by the lunch crowd, she realized they wouldn’t be seated with Kellen being shirtless. She’d become so accustomed to him walking around half naked that it hadn’t occurred to her until she noticed all the female eyes glued to her companion’s hard-muscled chest and gorgeous tattoos.
“Um,” she said. “You need a shirt to get lunch.”
“Not if we grab something from that street vendor,” he said, his gaze focused on a food truck parked in a lot almost a block away.
“Good plan,” she said with a laugh. She didn’t want him covered up any more than he wanted to be.
“You seem familiar with the city,” he said. “You didn’t even have to ask for a restaurant recommendation.”
She flushed, diverting her gaze and taking his hand as they headed toward the food truck.
“Have you spent a lot of time here in the past?”
She didn’t like to talk about her failures and while she wouldn’t want to forget the fun-yet-financially-strained year, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him about it. And then her gums started flapping on their own accord.
“I lived here for a year. Right after I graduated from Curtis.”
“You went to Curtis? Isn’t that some fancy music school like Julliard?”
“Curtis is way better than Julliard.” She grinned and leaned into his arm, squeezing his hand. “But I might be a tad partial toward my alma mater.”
“Does New Orleans have a good symphony?” His brow furrowed. “Did you play with one while you lived here?”
“A symphony is a piece of music. An orchestra would be what my kind of band is called.” She winked at him.
He laughed and slapped his forehead. “Okay, I obviously have no clue what I’m talking about. I definitely need to learn more about what you do. Our careers are far more different than they are similar. I’d probably know more about being a civil engineer than a classical pianist.”
“And I know more about being a pastry chef than being a rock star.”
“Considering how well you bake, you must be an expert rock musician.”
She flushed with pleasure. He really was an expert rock musician, as well as an expert at delighting her.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
They got in line behind the others waiting for their chance at a po’boy. She wasn’t familiar with this particular food truck, but judging by the length of the line, Kellen had made an excellent choice.
“So you joined the orchestra in New Orleans? Why for only a year? Not a good fit?”
“New Orleans isn’t really known for its orchestra,” she said, still on the fence about spilling a secret she held close to her heart. “They have one, of course, but I could have had a spot in the Philadelphia Orchestra or the New York Philharmonic.”
“Impressive,” he said, and then lifted his brows. “Right?”
She laughed. “Yes. That’s typically impressive.” In her circle, when she threw that bit of information around, people were definitely impressed. It was kind of refreshing that he didn’t look at her as some sort of prodigy.
“So not the orchestra.” His eyes popped wide. “You didn’t play jazz, did you?”
When she nodded slightly, he grimaced. It was the exact same reaction her father had had when she’d informed him she wasn’t accepting the position with Philadelphia. She was going to follow a different dream to New Orleans. It wasn’t as if the man had paid for her illustrious education. All students who managed to get into Curtis had full scholarships. He sure hadn’t held back his disappointment about her choices—all of her choices. Dad had warned her that she’d fail, that she couldn’t possibly make it as a jazz pianist, and his correct prediction had made her failure sting all the more.
“I played in a piano bar for a while, but I never had the right brand of funk. Patrons would request ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ instead of ‘Take the A Train.’ ”
“I’d love to hear you play ‘Take the A Train,’ ” he said. “What’s ‘Take the A Train’?”
She shook her head. “Duke Ellington?” She could tell by his blank expression that he didn’t know the song or the legend.
“You’ll have to give me a private concert,” he said. “Show me how jazz piano is supposed to be played.”
“You’re bound to be disappointed.” She’d been disappointed in herself. She supposed classical music had been drummed into her at such an early age that she couldn’t break free of its hold on her soul. She hadn’t been good enough to be taken seriously as a jazz pianist. And as someone who was used to being the best, that revelation had crushed her.
“You are the least disappointing person I’ve ever met.” Kellen nudged her arm with his elbow.
“You haven’t known me long enough to make that claim.”
“I knew that the moment I heard you banging out your composition at the beach. It isn’t possible for the woman who’d created something that stirred me so completely to ever be a disappointment.”
She tried not to smile at how good he made her feel about herself. She’d become accustomed to living up to her own exalted expectations early in life and not caring what others thought—or so she told herself—but she kept her agent around because he encouraged her, and she definitely wanted to keep Kellen around, so maybe she needed outside approval more than she thought. Maybe her father’s continual disappointment—and his expression of his resentment at her choices—did bother her. She told herself she didn’t care that the only kind of child he’d ever wanted was one willing to take over his financial legacy, but she craved approval from those who cared about her. Even those she’d known for only a few days.
Kellen placed a hand in the center of her back and urged her forward. The line was moving, but she’d been so wrapped up in him and her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed.
“Maybe tonight after your concert we can check out one of my old haunts,” she said. “If you’re not too tired, that is.” He’d been too tired the night before to do anything besides sleep. Since she also zonked out after performances, she’d tried not to take his disinterest in sex personally.
When she looked up at him, he was smiling at her. His happiness even touched his dark eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“I’d really like that,” he said.
“I think my old roommates still live in town. Maybe I’ll give them a call and see if they’d like to meet us.”
“I’d like that too.” The line moved forward another customer, and Kellen stepped closer to her. “You know what else I’d like?” His whispered words tickled her ear, shattering her concentration and making her shiver.
Before she could gather her thoughts, he murmured, “A taste of that honey between your legs.”
At his suggestive teasing, her honey began to flow for him. She’d been starting to think she wasn’t sexy enough to keep his attention, so she was gratified by his words.