Undone: Ash & Ana (Beg For It 2) - Page 21

“Want to go check out the band? They’re really good.”

“I’d love to.”

Ash held my hand, leading me through the crowd. It seemed to part for him, but I guessed that happened a lot for a rock star. Funny, I hadn’t known him long but I hadn’t seen much of the strutting cock-on-the-walk yet. I’d seen him hiding under my desk in a library, greeting his grandmother with affection and getting accosted by stuffy and displeased-looking older relatives. It was cute, I had to admit. I’d have to watch it with thoughts like that.

I could already tell, Ash was too good at the romance angle of this arrangement. Just the way he’d looked at me when I’d exited the limo had taken my breath away. When he’d first seen me tonight, he’d gazed at me the way every girl dreamed a man would look at her one day, as if I were some sort of celestial creature dropped down from above, beyond gorgeous in every way. Only Ash had enough of a carnal glint he didn’t make me feel like too much of an angel. He made me feel like he wanted to cherish, worship and adore me, only with Ash I had a feeling that would involve a whole lot of licking, sucking and finger-fucking. If only I could manage to feel less turned on by that thought.

He led me right up to where the band played at the far end of the ballroom, loud enough for people to dance nearby but not so loud as to deafen conversation in the rest of the party. How did the hotel get that exactly right? There must be a prescribed Waldof-Astoria decibel level.

“This guy on bass.” Ash pointed out a tall, dapper looking fellow clearly enjoying himself playing an upright bass. “He’s good.” The whole band sounded great to me, playing upbeat swing standards people of all ages could enjoy.

“He’s pretty cool.” I smiled, enjoying the jaunty tilt to his hat. Even in a tux, he had the whole hipster swing vibe down with a goatee, red suspenders and polished wing-tip shoes.

Ash scowled a bit. Jealous? That meant I had to tease him. With a sigh, I continued. “I wish he were my date tonight.”

“What?” There was a hilarious sharpness to his voice. I couldn’t help it, I broke my guise, a peal of laughter rising up.

“Well.” Ash recovered himself, straightening his tux that needed no straightening. “I mean, I guess that guy would be fine to hang out with. If you liked hanging out with guys old enough to be your father. But, Ana.” He turned to me, looking strangely serious. “You shouldn’t date musicians.”

I had to laugh again. “Said the musician.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m saying it. We all suck. Nothing but late nights and touring and groupies. It’s not for you.”

“OK, Ash.” Settle down, I wanted to say, but I turned my attention to the band. I got it. He didn’t want me getting attached to him. He was warning me off, setting boundaries. Letting me know that whatever had happened out in that back corridor didn’t mean anything. None of this did. I was hired help.

“Asher.” His grandmother appeared by his side, looking impressively grand and lively though I guessed she had to be in her late 70s. “Why don’t you join them and sing us something.”

“What?” For a famous singer, Ash looked shocked at the request. “You’ve never wanted me to sing at this party before.”

“I’d love it.” She smiled at him and I could already tell, she was going to get what she wanted. I bet she always did. “We all would.” She gave me a quick look and I realized she wanted me to join in the persuasion.

“I’d love to hear you sing, Ash.” I meant it, too. I’d heard him enough times through my earbuds while walking down the streets of New York City. What would it be like in person?

“Yeah?” He looked at me, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. What a mouth. I loved it when he kissed me. And earlier, he’d said he wanted to taste me. I didn’t think I’d survive that. OK, grandmother standing a few feet away. I needed to fan myself and reign in my thoughts.

“Let’s have some Frank,” his gram decreed. Without waiting for Ash’s green light, she raised an index finger to the lead singer. Just that slight gesture caught his attention. He knew who was signing his check that evening. At the end of the current number, he excused himself for a moment and hopped over to us.

“Wonderful music tonight.” Ash’s grandmother sparkled at him.

“We’re having a grand old time.” He looked it, too. I bet his earnings for this party covered some nice presents under his tree this Christmas.

“Would you be so kind as to let my grandson sing a number?”

“Yeah, no problem.” He turned and suddenly seemed to realize who he was standing next to. “No shit!” he exclaimed, a hand to his forehead. “Sorry.” He looked back at Gram, realizing he’d cursed.

“I understand.” She nodded her forgiveness.

“Hey, man.” Ash extended his hand. “You guys sound great.”

“Wow, what are you doing here? I didn’t have any idea—”

“Asher’s my grandson.” Gram sped things along. “Now, if you’d be so kind.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The band leader gave himself a little shake, clearly trying to pull himself together.

“Be right back.” Ash gave me a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. Damn if it didn’t feel so right.

“I do hope he’s treating you well, dear.” Ash’s grandmother kept her attention on her grandson as she spoke.

“Sure.” What would she think of all of this, his elaborate ruse to rehab his image? Something told me she wouldn’t approve.

“The trick is to expect nothing less.”

“Oh.” I nodded. It sounded easy when she said it.

“Never settle.” Now the dazzling force of her sparkling blue eyes looked directly into my soul. She tapped me lightly with something on my arm for emphasis. A small fan, I realized, which she then folded up and discreetly tucked into the end of her elbow-length glove. So that was where people kept their fans. Not that I’d ever actually talked to anyone

in a ball gown with a fan before, but I’d seen my share of period films. I liked my Jane Austen.

“All right, you guys and dolls, we’ve got a crazy treat for you.” The leader spoke into the mic. “Any of you out there ever heard of a cat named Ash Black?”

A roar erupted from the dance floor, along with a few high-pitched squeals. I guessed there were a few people who were fans, though from what I’d seen they weren’t his immediate family members. His older brother, in particular, seemed to give him a frosty reception earlier.

“Hello, hello.” Ash took the mic and strut front and center, clearly in his element. He unbuttoned his jacket. I swallowed in anticipation. “This one goes out to my favorite girls. You know who you are.” He pointed over to his grandmother and me, and I think we both glowed a bit at the dedication.

Turning to the band, he snapped his fingers and gave them, “and a one, a two.” The band magically came to life, playing out the opening chords. A brass section set the tone, a few guys on trumpets swaying from side to side. My toes set to tapping.

With an understated nod of his head, Ash began. “I’ve got you under my skin.” He was looking straight at me. “I’ve got you deep in the heart of me.”

Oh no. I loved this song. I was pretty sure my older parents had played me Frank Sinatra in utero, then over and over growing up until it was part of my DNA.

Ash closed his eyes, getting into the music, moving to the swing beat. “I’ve tried so, not to give in. I’ve said to myself this affair, it ain’t gonna go so well. But why should I try to resist when, baby, I know so well.” Looking at me again, he broke into a devastatingly sexy smile. “That I’ve got you under my skin.”

“He’s quite good, isn’t he?” his grandmother observed.

“Wow,” was all I could manage. I knew if you looked up ‘star struck’ in the dictionary you’d see a big old picture of me and I should pull myself together and all that, but not now. Now when Ash Black strutted around on stage in a tux crooning straight at me. What a voice! His songs were much harder-driving, with much more snarl and bite. He was famous for how he could belt it out, then pull it back into a restrained whisper, but here he just let it all pour out of him, honey gold and full, relishing every note. He had such presence, such charisma and swagger up there, owning the spotlight with his lean hips and long legs, his hand out to point at the crowd or gesture to the band. Wow.

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