is from?”
“ No he’s from Santa Fe, but he lives in L.A. Tonight, he’s going to be in Chicago. We’re supposed to be meeting at Emilio’s, a blues club downtown. Do you know it?” Megan shook her head. “I’d like you to come with me.”
“ Why?”
Christian rolled his eyes. “Why do you think? Christ, Megan, you do know about ‘boy meets girl,’ right? We’re both single. We’re both straight. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you at this point that I think you’re attractive… very ,” he added wryly under his breath, “or that I want to spend time with you, get to know you better.”
Megan bit her lower lip. “Even if I’m not willing to—”
“ Yes ,” Christian interrupted. “I’m sorry about last time, Megan. I don’t know exactly why I got so irritated but it wasn’t because you didn’t want to have sex. I’m not that much of a jerk. Jesus, it’s not like I was planning for it to happen then. I mean, Emily was in the other room.” He shrugged, as if his current attempts at trying to figure himself out were the latest in a series of many.
“ It’s just…you tempt me, Megan.”
She wasn’t aware of turning around fully to face him but she suddenly was. She read the unspoken plea in his blue eyes. God, she could fall for him so easily. She was like soft clay in his skilled, molding hands.
“ What time are you going?” she asked, her voice shaky with uncertainty.
“ We. Now. Whenever you’re ready. The band starts in twenty minutes.”
Megan glanced down at her attire.
“ I can’t. Look at how I’m dressed,” she mumbled, gesturing at her jeans and T-shirt.
“ Emilio’s is very casual. In fact, you’ll be overdressed.”
“ Okay. If…if you’re sure…”
“ I’m very sure,” he replied quickly, as if he thought his firm certainty could cancel out her hesitation.
He hovered over her and generally got in her way as she straightened up her workspace and watered down the sculpture. When she scolded him he transferred his considerable energy and attention to her studio. He picked up armatures and admired maquettes, her working models for future sculptures. He asked her so many questions that Megan couldn’t attend to what she was doing.
“ Christian , I thought you wanted me to hurry,” she muttered with mixed amusement and exasperation as she tied plastic around her sculpture. He was helping her, but his curiosity about her art seemed to have no bounds.
“ Sorry, I’m just interested. I’ve never been in a sculptor’s studio. But I do want you to hurry.” His eyes trailed down her body to her bare feet. “You’ll have to wear shoes. Not because Emilio would mind if you did or not, I just don’t think you’d cherish walking on his floors barefoot.”
He answered her wary expression with a boyish grin that was supposed to convey innocence, she was certain, but in actuality communicated the exact opposite.
* * * *
Emilio’s was tucked innocuously off West Chicago Avenue in a side entryway adorned with no signs, only a dark red canopy. Christian had explained to her in the cab on the ride over that Emilio’s hosted some of the best blues artists in Chicago, but was relatively unknown to all but locals and insiders in the music community.
“ How come you know about it, then?” she asked conversationally as they entered the darkened interior of the club. No band was playing yet and the atmosphere in the quickly filling room was relaxed and subdued.
“ I’ve known about it since I drank too much beer here one night when I was a punk eighteen-year-old and Emilio kicked me out on my sorry ass.”
“ He doesn’t tell the pretty lady that I picked him back up again and sobered him up with a tank of black coffee before I paid for his cab ride home,” a baritone, gravelly voice responded.
Megan watched as Christian hugged a huge bear of a black man who was obviously Emilio. She could tell by his wide grin he genuinely was happy to
“ No he’s from Santa Fe, but he lives in L.A. Tonight, he’s going to be in Chicago. We’re supposed to be meeting at Emilio’s, a blues club downtown. Do you know it?” Megan shook her head. “I’d like you to come with me.”
“ Why?”
Christian rolled his eyes. “Why do you think? Christ, Megan, you do know about ‘boy meets girl,’ right? We’re both single. We’re both straight. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you at this point that I think you’re attractive… very ,” he added wryly under his breath, “or that I want to spend time with you, get to know you better.”
Megan bit her lower lip. “Even if I’m not willing to—”
“ Yes ,” Christian interrupted. “I’m sorry about last time, Megan. I don’t know exactly why I got so irritated but it wasn’t because you didn’t want to have sex. I’m not that much of a jerk. Jesus, it’s not like I was planning for it to happen then. I mean, Emily was in the other room.” He shrugged, as if his current attempts at trying to figure himself out were the latest in a series of many.
“ It’s just…you tempt me, Megan.”
She wasn’t aware of turning around fully to face him but she suddenly was. She read the unspoken plea in his blue eyes. God, she could fall for him so easily. She was like soft clay in his skilled, molding hands.
“ What time are you going?” she asked, her voice shaky with uncertainty.
“ We. Now. Whenever you’re ready. The band starts in twenty minutes.”
Megan glanced down at her attire.
“ I can’t. Look at how I’m dressed,” she mumbled, gesturing at her jeans and T-shirt.
“ Emilio’s is very casual. In fact, you’ll be overdressed.”
“ Okay. If…if you’re sure…”
“ I’m very sure,” he replied quickly, as if he thought his firm certainty could cancel out her hesitation.
He hovered over her and generally got in her way as she straightened up her workspace and watered down the sculpture. When she scolded him he transferred his considerable energy and attention to her studio. He picked up armatures and admired maquettes, her working models for future sculptures. He asked her so many questions that Megan couldn’t attend to what she was doing.
“ Christian , I thought you wanted me to hurry,” she muttered with mixed amusement and exasperation as she tied plastic around her sculpture. He was helping her, but his curiosity about her art seemed to have no bounds.
“ Sorry, I’m just interested. I’ve never been in a sculptor’s studio. But I do want you to hurry.” His eyes trailed down her body to her bare feet. “You’ll have to wear shoes. Not because Emilio would mind if you did or not, I just don’t think you’d cherish walking on his floors barefoot.”
He answered her wary expression with a boyish grin that was supposed to convey innocence, she was certain, but in actuality communicated the exact opposite.
* * * *
Emilio’s was tucked innocuously off West Chicago Avenue in a side entryway adorned with no signs, only a dark red canopy. Christian had explained to her in the cab on the ride over that Emilio’s hosted some of the best blues artists in Chicago, but was relatively unknown to all but locals and insiders in the music community.
“ How come you know about it, then?” she asked conversationally as they entered the darkened interior of the club. No band was playing yet and the atmosphere in the quickly filling room was relaxed and subdued.
“ I’ve known about it since I drank too much beer here one night when I was a punk eighteen-year-old and Emilio kicked me out on my sorry ass.”
“ He doesn’t tell the pretty lady that I picked him back up again and sobered him up with a tank of black coffee before I paid for his cab ride home,” a baritone, gravelly voice responded.
Megan watched as Christian hugged a huge bear of a black man who was obviously Emilio. She could tell by his wide grin he genuinely was happy to
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