"It must be difficult for you." Layla watched the rain through the windshield, the droplets merging with each other in a complex system rivulets as they rolled down the glass. Anything to avoid get lost in that crystal-blue gaze again.
"What?"
"This. I bet you're not used to a woman not fawning over you." She tried to sound like she was teasing him, but she failed. She wasn't teasing because she was sure it was the truth. Which was precisely why she refused to fawn.
"Nope. This is the easiest thing I've done in a long time."
She didn't tell him, but it was the easiest thing she'd done in a long time, too.
For a few more minutes they sat in silence, just listening to the music. Just being. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but both of them pretended not to notice. She turned her head on the head rest, allowing her eyes to meet his.
It was a game, wasn't it? It was all pretend. He said so himself. So what was wrong with pretending he was real? What was wrong with getting lost...just for a little while?
She wanted to ask him more about himself, but decided not to. It wasn't important. This moment was enough.
They gazes locked while the sound of the piano held them in that place where time seemed to stop...where it seemed this little while could last forever. His company and this music were a balm on the raw edges of her day. She never would have guessed this little game of his would make her feel like herself again.
Derek reached for her hand where it rested on her thigh, and she didn't resist when he picked it up, his thumb brushing across her knuckles and turning her skin to gooseflesh.
"Ms. M..."
She dropped her gaze to their hands, following the movement of his thumb over her fingers. Derek Taylor was holding her hand.
Funny thing was, for a few minutes there, she'd actually forgotten that's who he was. Her eyes drifted back up to his, her stomach fluttering under the intensity of his gaze, the fever she'd felt out in the rain replaced by a different kind of burn.
"Since we're pretending, I suppose you can call me Layla." She'd meant to sound confident. Unaffected. But her words came out as a whisper.
"Maybe next time. Right now, I'm enjoying thinking of you as Ms. M." He drew her hand close and lowered his lips to the tops of her fingers. His mouth lingered on her skin, the softness of his lips and the warmth of his breath twisting her insides in a way that was definitely not pretend. He looked up at her, blue eyes piercing through a fringe of dark lashes. "I am truly sorry for the way I behaved the other day. I'll make it right with the kid somehow. And with you."
This was too much. Too real. Too...not pretend.
She forced herself to pull her hand from his grasp. Instantly she missed the warmth of his fingers around hers, the heat of his mouth on her skin.
Some games were too dangerous to play, and she was not going to be another trophy for his mantelpiece.
"How do you plan on doing that?" she said. "I'm sure you're very busy. Not to mention you're too important to be wasting time on a people like us. Records to sell, concerts to book, models to date. Isn't that more your style? Apologizing to Cody can't be high on your list of things to do."
She didn't know why she shut him out like that, only that she needed to do it.
His eyes hardened. "You're so sure you know who I am."
"Am I wrong?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" An edge crept into his voice.
She returned it with an edge of her own. "And you still haven't told me exactly why that is."
"I told you, I wanted to apologize."
She shook her head. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
"Why are you doing this? Can't we just enjoy this moment? I thought you were pretending to like me."
"How hard can it be to tell me why you're here? Is it for work? Do you have family nearby?"
He reached for his jacket pocket, the one where he'd stowed his cigarettes, but then he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I needed to get away. I just needed some space, some distance from...everything. So I got a little drunk, closed my eyes, and picked a place on a map."
"You picked a place..."
"Yeah. With a thumbtack. Maybe was the lucky winner." His jaw ticked and he shrugged one shoulder, a movement that reminded her more of the man in the diner and less of the man she'd begun to wish he was.
"Oh...we've won your presence until you get bored with us. We are lucky." She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle.
"Layla--"
"No, I totally get it. It's another game."
"I guess you really do know me, after all." He pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, hiding his eyes from her view. Shutting her out.
She didn't know why that hurt. It was exactly what she'd done to him, wasn't it? It was exactly what she wanted.
Layla opened the car door. The rain had stopped completely sometime while they were listening to the music, and there was no reason to act like it hadn't. "Thank you for the ride home. I really need to lie down."
She fought with the mechanism on the seat, trying to get it to fold forward so she could remove her box of music from the back. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her head grew light with the effort. Her damp clothes, which hadn't bothered her that much in the car, weighed her down and made every movement uncomfortable.
Stupid girl to think a few minutes with this man had actually done anything to make her feel better. She'd have been better off listening to the music alone in her bed. At least there she would have been warm.
As she yanked on the lever, still unable to get the damn thing to cooperate, Derek hurried around to her side of the car. "Don't do that. Just go inside. I'll get your box for you."
She stiffened, an argument forming on her lips. But when Derek gently took her arm and turned her toward the house, the need to get out of her clothes and on her couch prevailed. The nudge of his hand in the small of her back sealed the deal.
Layla left her front door open, beyond caring if he came inside after her. The man was a lot of things from what she could tell--arrogant, entitled, and cocky to name a few--but dangerous wasn't one of them. At least not dangerous in a way that would require calling 911.
That reminded her...
In her bedroom, she pulled her cell phone out of her bag and shot Gabi a text saying she was home. Then she tossed her phone and purse on the bed.
She shucked out of her clothes, peeled off her damp bra, and dropped it all into a pile on the floor in the middle of her room. She put on a pair of flannel shorts and an old tank top, then trudged down the hall to her living room.
She'd hoped Derek would've just put her box down and left, but there he was, leaning against the wall in his damned soft pants, thumbing through her accompanist's book. Sunglasses on, of course. The box sat open on the floor next to him.
"Excuse me...I believe that's my music. It was in my box." She gave him a half-hearted glare as she passed by on the way to the kitchen. Peppermint tea took precedence over yelling at the jerk for going through her stuff.
He returned the book to the box and followed her as far as kitchen entryway. Why was he still there? And why hadn't she asked him to leave, yet?
She tried to ignore him while she riffled through her cupboards for her tea, but she could feel his eyes on her back, distracting her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I saw music, and I couldn't resist. Are you doing that show at your school? That should be fun."
"Yeah. It will be." She moved on to the next cupboard.
"Those kinds of things are so important." He nodded. "The kids need that experience."
"I know."
Which is why she paid for the rights to the show out of her own pocket when her principal had told her and the drama director there was no money for something "extra" like a musical. The way she figured it, she'd been making deposits to a savings account for years instead of a house payment, why not use it for something important. Retirement was a long ways off, the kids needed this now.
"Do you put on musicals every year?"
She wished he would quit asking her questions. Their game of pretend ended the moment his lips touched her skin.