A Heart Not Easily Broken Page 8

  ***

  It didn’t take long for me to find the band’s rhythm. By the end of the night, we would exchange business cards and stay in touch for future work. One thing about the music business: networking was key. The more people you know, the more opportunities you got to play, the more money you made.

  I unhooked the guitar strap from my shoulder as we paused for a ten-minute break. Ebony sat alone at a vacant table in the back of the room. She watched a crowd of elderly people gathered around the punch bowl, a look of amusement on her face.

  I approached the table, veering out of the path of a woman in a wheelchair. “Hey, are you okay?”

  She reached down to the floor beside her seat. “Yes. Here,” she handed me a bottle of orange juice. “I managed to grab a few of these before they were all gone. It seems orange juice is a prized commodity around here.” She grinned. “There are two more if you’re really thirsty.”

  “Thanks.” I appreciated her thoughtfulness. “I want to apologize again for changing our plans. I’m sure you’d like to be somewhere else right now.”

  Ebony studied the room. “Honestly, I’ve never been asked to dance or out on a date so many times before. Not even at the club.” Her finely arched eyebrows rose. “There might be some life left in these old players.” Laugh lines crinkled around her eyes.

  Ebony was truly a rare find. A woman who could laugh at the change of circumstances instead of thinking everything revolved around her. Mark one in the plus column.

  I scoped out the competition. “Are you serious?”

  She motioned with her head toward an old man staring me down. “Harry over there has offered to put me in his will and give me half of next month’s Social Security check if he got to see me naked.”

  I choked, juice dribbled out of my mouth. Harry appeared to be at least seventy. He sat grinning broadly with abnormally white teeth for someone his age. His plaid suit appeared to be thirty years old. He’d perched his Kangol hat over a knee, revealing the shiny skin of his bald head under bright lights. His hands rested on a cane between his legs. His eyes were all over Ebony.

  When I turned back, she handed me a napkin and her smile widened. “Don’t worry, I told him if he couldn’t cut my grass for free then he didn’t have a chance.”

  I chuckled while wiping my mouth. What a sense of humor. “You can add dessert to the steak deal.” I promised.

  “Good, because sugar-free cookies and Jell-O may be good for my figure, but they are not satisfying.” Ebony reached for the empty juice container and set it on the table. “You guys are really good. Watching you play is…interesting. I like the way you hold your guitar.” She bit her lip. Her eyes flashed something that could have been sexual. She attempted to play off embarrassment by looking at Harry. It didn’t hide the rosy hue under her caramel cheeks though.

  Call me crazy, but I could have sworn she envied my guitar. “You were paying attention.”

  “I’m an observant person. You’re confident when you play. I like confidence.”

  My eyebrow rose. Confidence was my middle name.

  “Don’t let it go to your head. Cutting my grass and taking me out to dinner is not going to get you in my pants.”

  I chuckled. Taking her to bed wasn’t my goal for the evening, but it felt like an issued challenge.

  “Well, if…” Someone smacked me on the ass, interrupting my witty reply.

  I looked over my shoulder and discovered a women leaning on a walker. The pink flower pinned to her shoulder hung lazily over sagging boobs. The woman appeared to be as old as my great aunt.

  “You can get into my pants anytime, blondie.”

  I stood speechless. Ebony’s muffled laughter floated from behind me.

  The facilities director hustled over from serving refreshments to thwart the elderly woman’s second attempt to swat my behind. “Mrs. Johansson!”

  Unfortunately, it didn’t stop the toothless grin Mrs. Johansson flashed me.

  The director placed a gentle hand on the woman’s back and attempted to turn my admirer in the opposite direction. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Uh…no problem.” My cheeks burned. “I’m going to head back now.” The guys had congregated around the instruments.

  Ebony nodded and attempted to hide her grin behind her hands.

  The gig ended a short time later as some of the partygoers headed to bed. The spry ones put on music and continued to dance.

  I was putting my guitar in its case when Ebony’s playful laughter caught my attention. She no longer sat at the table. Instead, she danced with good old Harry.

  The old timer’s attempts to tear up the dance floor with my date amused me. The old guy could move. Ebony laughed again as he spun her around then attempted to dip her. Try as he might, his body wouldn’t comply. So instead he settled on pulling her closer, sliding his hands lower on her waist.

  Watching Ebony dance mesmerized me. Even though she wasn’t dancing like that night in the club, it was impossible not to appreciate those God-given curves. What I wouldn’t do to be able to hold her in my arms.

  I chuckled. I was jealous of a seventy-year-old man because his hands were on my girl.

  Date, get a grip. She’s my date, not my girl.

  My attention went back to the guys who were in deep conversation. I shook hands, asked questions, and collected my portion of tonight’s performance fee. We exchanged business cards and talked about various work opportunities we’d heard of. Eventually, my attention turned back to Ebony. The first song had ended. They were now on to song number two. Ebony looked my way. Our eyes connected and she mouthed a silent plea for help. A survey of the situation revealed good old Harry trying his best to round second base with my date. His large wrinkled hands were on her ass. Her very fine, shapely ass.

  The sly bastard.

  Ebony grabbed his wrists, pried his hands off, and pulled them back to her waist. Harry put them back. Irritation flashed in her eyes, though she kept a smile on her lips.

  I dismissed myself to go to her aid.

  “Excuse me, may I have this dance?”

  Good old Harry stared me down. Despite his age, he was still an imposing figure. We were nearly the same height, and he looked me dead in the eye.

  “Do you want to dance with this fella?” he asked Ebony, his gaze never leaving mine.

  “Yes, this is my date,” Ebony said smoothly, though irritation still shown in her eyes.

  “Humph. Just remember what I told you.” Harry released her and hobbled back to the table where he’d been sitting to retrieve his cane.

  Clearly relieved, Ebony slipped into my arms. Our bodies connected as if we’d danced a million times; every part of her fit perfectly against me. Her intoxicating perfume hinted at something sweet and forbidden, a line I’d willingly cross if given the chance. I’d gotten a whiff of her fragrance in the car before rolling the windows down. But now I was up close and personal. There was no doubt about it, I wanted her.

  The only time we’d been this close had been the night we met at the bar. She’d worn heels at the time so we were nearly eye-to-eye. In her flat shoes, her head stopped at my shoulder. Ebony tilted her head up. Her almond shaped eyes were liquid pools of chocolate, pulling me in hard. I zeroed in on luscious lips curved into a sexy smile that made my heart stop. Damn, they would be perfect for kissing.

  Her hand felt soft and delicate in mine. Her curvaceous body, the inspiration for last night’s erotic dream, pressed against me. God help me, it was impossible to ignore the softness of her breasts when she brushed against my chest.

  I drew in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds in an effort to control the increased beating of my heart. I didn’t want her to know how much she turned me on.

  Ebony’s warm body against mine was the most exquisite form of torture.

  My focus went to the old couple dancing on the other side of the room and the empty punch bowl. Even Harry, as he gave me the evil eye
, anything to prevent the hard-on threatening to betray my thoughts.

  “He said I reminded him of his first wife.”

  Her melodic voice captured my attention.

  “The man’s got good taste.”

  “Yeah, well, if he groped my butt one more time… Men, no matter hold old, will always try to feel you up.”

  I chuckled. “The only difference is old men tend to get away with it. Young guys like me risk losing a limb or facing jail time.”

  Ebony looked up again, studying me.

  “I can’t offer you Social Security money, but I can buy you dinner without requiring you get naked.” I smiled while Ebony giggled. “Let’s go eat.”