Megan was amazed at the diversity, clarity, and complexity of sounds that Seth almost casually coaxed from the instrument. Christian held the microphone in his right hand, but his body was turned toward the band during the introduction. Then he faced the audience and began to sing, and Megan knew for the first time what he’d been born to do.
How could she not have realized that the singular quality of his voice marked him as a singer? It was resonant and rich. The control that he had over his range was so complete that he effortlessly made his voice the most finely tuned instrument in the band. The husky quality of it only added to the earthy, sensual aura of the music.
His eyelids were partially closed and his long legs were bent slightly at the knee to accommodate his height to the microphone, which he hadn’t removed from its stand. When Seth launched into a powerful, mournful guitar solo, Christian kept his hands on the microphone, but averted his face by looking down. Megan could tell by the way he kept time with his right foot and by his intense, focused profile that he was utterly wrapped up in the music.
When Christian sang the final refrain, some of his boundless passion broke free. The swelling music and raw, yet poetic lyrics created a tight sensation in her chest and throat. She swallowed thickly in an attempt to alleviate the ache.
He seduced her with his voice as easily as he had with his hands and mouth. The entire audience was at Christian’s mercy.
When the final melancholy cord had been struck, a few seconds of stunned, respectful silence ensued before the audience exploded with cheers and thunderous applause. Christian straightened and his eyes fluttered open. He’d been so lost in the music that he seemed vaguely surprised that a hundred plus people had been listening.
He smiled, slow and dazzling.
God, did he have any inkling of how happy he looked at that moment…or how beautiful it made him?
Before she knew what was happening, Seth and Christian had left the stage to continued loud applause. Christian slid into the booth next to her. Megan vaguely noticed that Seth winked at her once before he passed the booth and headed to the back of the club, but most of her focus was taken up by Christian.
“Did you like it?” he asked after an awkward pause.
She shook her head, knowing her words couldn’t describe the effect his song had on her.
“It was amazing. Why in the world didn’t you tell me you were a singer?”
He shrugged and took a sip of wine. Megan watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. The subtle movement struck her as potently sexual. Even though he’d only been up on the stage less than ten minutes, his long hair was slightly damp at his nape. Megan realized that the lights must get really warm where Christian stood.
“I didn’t think you’d be that interested,” he said in a manner that struck her as casual, but forced at once. “I saw your music collection. Soft rock, classical, a little jazz.”
“That’s stupid, and you know it. Of course I would be interested. I’m never going to forgive you. I almost had a heart attack when I saw you walk up on that stage just as calmly as if you were buying aspirin at the drug store. And you lied to me. You said you were a writer.”
He leaned back and grinned when he saw her wrathful stare.
“I didn’t lie. I am a writer—of music and lyrics. It’s what I most identify in doing.”
Megan dismissed him with a disdainful up-tilt of her chin. She was a little hurt by the fact that he’d left her in the dark about something that was obvious
ly such an integral part of him. “You know perfectly well that you misled me, Christian.”
She did a double take when she glanced over at him. Her anger seeped out of her. How could she be mad at him after the experience he’d just given her?
“I can’t believe how talented you are,” she whispered. “Are you…famous or something? It seems like I was the only person in here that didn’t know what you do.”
“I guess some people here recognize me from some of my other work.”
“What other work?”
“Look who I found,” Seth said, interrupting them.
A stunning young biracial woman wearing a waitress’s apron scooted into the booth in front of Seth.
“Hey, Sarah,” Christian greeted warmly. They exchanged a quick kiss. He introduced her to Megan as Seth put his arm across the young woman’s shoulder. “Megan Shreve, meet Sarah Jackson. She’s Emilio’s oldest daughter.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Megan,” Sarah said with a warm smile. “Chris, believe it or not, Dad said I could take a nice long break and sit out here and chat with you guys.”
Christian chuckled when his gaze met Seth’s. The only change in Seth’s stony expression consisted of a slight rise of his dark brows before he bent down close to Sarah’s upturned face to say something privately.
Christian sounded amused when he whispered in Megan’s ear. “I thought for sure it would be a bottle of rare brandy, but if Emilio willingly let his daughter fraternize with ‘the savage’, Seth has been more than just forgiven.”
* * * *