Or at least, that was what I told myself as I drove from Danny’s historic Hollywood Hills home to a nearby neighborhood of newer mansions all jockeying for canyon views, gleaming chrome and glass boxes, each more impressive than the last. Danny had said this was a rental for Ezra, but the per-night fee was probably more than most enlisted personnel made in a month.
Ezra’s place had at least a half-dozen balconies and a decent security setup with a gate across the steep driveway and high fencing. A younger smart-looking woman with red hair and hipster glasses answered the door, strains of distant music echoing in the entryway. She kept glancing down at her phone while listening to my explanation about why I was there.
“They’re in the back.” She gestured down a long tiled hallway which led to an open area, music getting louder as a collection of individuals came into view. A middle-aged guy on some kind of hand drum, a woman in her twenties on a flute, another of similar age on a keyboard, and an older dude playing bass. And Ezra.
Holding a guitar, he sat in the center of the room on a low stool, fading sunlight filtering in behind him like some sort of album cover. The golden rock god at home. I had a vague memory of meeting him years ago when he’d still been a kid on the TV show with Danny, but he was light years removed from the smart-mouth teen he’d played. And for all the stories Danny told about Ezra, nothing had prepared me for this adult version, every bit as captivating as those damn videos I tried so hard to avoid clicking on.
Danny liked to joke about his own “glow up,” but Ezra literally glowed, crackling with an energy that was all-grownup and dangerous as fuck. He was tall and lean with dark hair and eyes and pale skin, the kind that probably never tanned and added to his ethereal air.
His messy, too-long hair fell into his face, obscuring the haunting eyes that had launched thousands of crushes, but it was his voice that truly captivated me. He was singing an old ballad, made fresh by his one-of-a-kind voice.
I hung back, at first because I didn’t want to be rude, and then because I’d forgotten why I was there, all my attention on the singer and his song. Why did his voice have to be so damn compelling? The tension I’d had all day bled away, replaced by a languid warmth that spread to all my muscles. In fact, I was so relaxed that I missed the song ending until Ezra speared me with his platinum album-worthy gaze.
“Enjoy the show?” he asked with the barest hint of a smile, and my spine stiffened, brain coming back online. Business. I was there on business. And I needed to remember that no matter what his voice did to me.
Chapter Two
Ezra
Lieutenant Duncan Lubov had aged well. Fifteen years ago, he’d been a walking recruitment poster for the naval academy, the hottest thing my almost-thirteen-year-old self had ever seen, and his visit to the set of Geek Chorus, the show I’d been on with his brother, had been the moment I’d unequivocally known I wasn’t entirely straight. And now, standing in my borrowed living room, he still had all those damn muscles. Same intense eyes and chiseled jaw and ability to remind me that my dick at least occasionally appreciated such things.
But I was older now too. Taller than him, a fact I noticed on my way across the room to offer a handshake. He had a big hand too. Funny how I’d remembered his strong grip for years when he probably had the barest of memories of our meeting. To him, I probably existed solely in passing mentions from his half-brother with whom he’d had somewhat sporadic contact. But for me, he was a reminder of the amount of mental real estate he’d taken up in my teen brain when I’d pumped Danny for more mentions and photos. Other interests had gradually taken priority, but I’d never forgotten his electric touch.
“Well?” I prompted again, sternly reminding myself I was twenty-eight now and way too old to resume teenage crushes. “How’d we sound?”
“Nice.” Duncan nodded curtly like a man raised to only say polite things. Good. Him being coolly distant would help with my efforts to forget that ancient crush. And he didn’t have to love my music, or any music for that matter, to get the job done for me.
“These are some local friends.” I swept my hand around the room. “We get together when I’m in town, try out new sounds for fun.”
“Translation: we all have day jobs.” Marissa, who’d already packed up her flute, followed me over to also offer Duncan a handshake. “And you’re Danny’s big brother. You won’t remember me, but I played Marnie on the show with Danny and Ezra. Now I’m a set designer unless Ezra gets too bored to function and needs me to remember how to play.”