Heart Strings

I chuckled. “Me and whoever else is in the subway when I get home at night.”

At Carmen’s quizzical gaze, I explained, giving him the briefest details. “He serenades me. That’s how we met.”

“I recall his work was original.”

“It is. His talent is amazing, but he prefers to write rather than be in the spotlight.”

“That’s rare these days.” He rubbed his chin. “This is unusual, but would you be willing to give me his contact information?”

I paused. Carmen waved his hand. “Get his okay, of course. But I would like to talk to him.” Then he flashed me a grin. “And this won’t affect our working relationship at all. No conflict of interest or whatever else you’re thinking. This is me talking to someone I met at an event. Who caught my professional interest.”

I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask him.”Logan frowned. “Why does he want to talk to me?”

I sipped my wine and pulled a hand through my hair. “I assume to ask you about your music. Or maybe where you get your hair done. I don’t know,” I teased.

He set down his bowl, wiping his mouth. “Smartass,” he shot back, squeezing my leg.

I grinned, settling into the sofa cushion. Logan had met me at the subway, and we came to my condo. I had been awake early enough, I’d thrown together a stew in the crockpot, and it was ready when we arrived. I refused to let him take me to the diner yet again. He polished off two bowls plus most of a loaf of bread, thoroughly enjoying the simple dinner I had made.

He drained his water, took the bowls to the kitchen, and returned. “Okay, give him my number.”

“Why do you look so torn? This could be the start of an opportunity for you—you told me you dreamed of doing something with your music one day.”

“I always thought I’d do it on my own, I suppose. Not have my girlfriend hook me up.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot. Carmen remembered seeing you. He remembered your music. I’m simply the connection. You did do it. Now stop being so stubborn and shortsighted.”

In seconds, I was under him on the sofa, his large frame pinning me down. “Stubborn?” he growled. “Shortsighted?” He nipped at my neck. “An idiot?” He slid his hand along my arms. “You’re awfully lippy for someone the size of a hobbit.”

I giggled as his hands wandered, his fingers ghosting over my skin, finding the sensitive areas to tickle and tease. “Listen, Hagrid,” I gasped, trying to get away from his tickling fingers. “I’m just saying…” I trailed off, panting as his mouth followed his fingers, his lips hot and wet on my skin.

He lifted his head. “You’re mixing up your movies, Lottie. Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings are not the same. I guess I’ll have to kidnap you and make you binge-watch them with me on the weekend. Teach you.”

I moaned as he slid his mouth lower. “Yes,” I pleaded. “Teach me everything, Logan.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he promised, hooking his fingers into my waistband. “It’s going to be an intensive lesson, Lottie. Very hands-on.” He paused. “Very lengthy.”

I bucked against his hand. “I plan on getting a gold star.”

He winked. “I bet you will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Then I lost myself to him.I was on a high the next day, setting up meetings, creating the prospectus to give potential investors. I also set up consultations with the other two projects I was assigned, although they were far more cut-and-dried. A few calls to my usual investors would take care of them easily, I expected.

I also contacted Carmen with Logan’s number. He replied quickly, thanking me.

No doubt he was loath to give it, his text read.

How did you know? I replied.

I know artists and their pride.

I had to chuckle. I recalled Logan’s anger over the money that first night. His insistence on paying for everything the day we spent together. His hesitance in granting me permission to give Carmen his number. Carmen had Logan pegged perfectly, although I thought it was more than the artist in him that made Logan that way.

Good luck, was my response.

My phone rang, and I was thrilled to see the name on the screen.

“Brianna!” I exclaimed as I lifted the receiver. “You’re home!”

“I am,” she replied, sounding amused.

“How was the trip?”

“Boring.”

I laughed, leaning back in my chair. “Only you can go to the Mediterranean and call it boring.”

“It got better when I broke up with Dan.”

I groaned. “Another one, Brianna? Really?” I hadn’t fibbed to my mother when I told her that Brianna always had man trouble.

“He was a jerk. I caught him with one of the hotel staff. I dumped him and left. I didn’t pay the bill either. I decided he could handle that.”