A wave of dizziness swept through Matt as the magnitude of that hit home. He’d done more than screw her brains out, he’d laid his hands on her. Hard. Left marks.
No, he couldn’t do it. How would he ever look Brent in the face ever again?
“Oh hey, Luce.” Brent nudged his sister, who continued to look pale. “You know what I found in the basement last week?”
“Not a clue.”
“Your accordion.”
She choked on a sip of her drink. “Please tell me you burned it.”
“Ever better.” He winked. “I brought it with me tonight.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Lucy snorted.
“Oh, I think you know why. You’re playing it.”
“When hell freezes over.”
Brent shivered. “Is it getting cold in here?”
…
You have got to be f**king kidding me.
When the crowd had parted and she’d seen Matt, looking gorgeous and uncomfortable all at the same time, she’d thought this is going to be the worst night of my life.
She’d had no idea.
How her brother had managed to convince her to play an accordion in front of these coolly sophisticated Manhattanites, she would never fully understand. At first, he’d made the request by calling her performance an engagement gift. When she’d still balked, he’d led every guest in the vicinity in chanting her name until she’d had no choice but to take the offered instrument and give in. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of her wanted to escape Matt’s blazing stare.
She couldn’t afford to think about it now. Or the hurt she’d glimpsed just before he put his mask back in place. A hundred pairs of eyes were trained on her. Palms sweating, knees shaking. It was like she’d been transported back to her fourth-grade talent show. She’d practiced for weeks only to be beaten by Becky Kessler’s dance routine, performed to Hanson’s “MmmBop.” When she felt a surge of annoyance over the memory, she realized she’d never really let the defeat go.
Repressed talent show angst. We’ve reached a new low.
Everyone was waiting for her to say something, but she could only look at Matt. He’d gotten past the hurt and confusion. He was angry now. Good. Better to have him angry. At least she could handle that emotion from him. She was well used to people being angry with her.
She cleared her throat into the silence. “Um…something in French?”
A couple guys in suits gave her a golf clap. Brent whooped from the back of the crowd, but when Hayden punched him in the arm it ended in a yelp. Eyes closed, Lucy played a few notes on the piano side of the accordion, hoping like hell she remembered the song she had in mind start to finish.
She didn’t. Halfway through the lively song about a young French maid losing her virtue in a field, the lyrics completely fled her brain. People were smiling and bobbing their heads at her, though. That was a good sign, right? If she could just make it through the end of the song, she might escape this without requiring ten years’ worth of therapy. What were those stupid lyrics? Not a single word came to mind. Praying no one in the room knew French, Lucy started singing about another tragedy, possibly worse than the French maid losing her V-card.
J’ai rencontré un bel homme
Nous sommes allés à l’hôtel
Il a fessé mon cul, notre pizza partit
Et je suis en enfer maintenant.
Which roughly translated to:
I met a lovely fellow
We went to a motel
He spanked my ass
Our pizza left
And now I am in hell.
Lucy winced when a bald man to her left spit out his champagne. Apparently, there was at least one French speaker in the house. Finally, finally the song ended and the room broke out into polite applause. As quickly as possible, she set her accordion down on the nearest table, relieved when everyone went back to their conversations fairly quickly. Her eyes immediately sought Matt where he stood near the door. He was stillness in a room full of movement, gray gaze cutting through the vibrant crowd.
He nodded once, as if he’d made a decision. Then he turned and walked out the front door. Brent and Hayden were having an animated conversation that looked like it would end in them making out, so they didn’t notice his exit.
She should let him go. Definitely shouldn’t follow him. So why were her feet moving? Maybe she would just explain, issue an apology, and get it off her chest. Perhaps it wouldn’t do an ounce of good, possibly could even make things worse, but she couldn’t just let him walk out after shocking him the way she had. The thought that he might leave hating her was a decidedly sour one. At the very least she could get some closure on this situation.
Lucy almost laughed. There wouldn’t be closure any time soon. Not after what they’d shared. Not a moment had passed since last night that she didn’t replay his fervent words against her lips, the hint of torment in his voice. His hands, the way they’d positioned her so commandingly, so he could drive into her with perfect precision.
Decision made, Lucy skirted past a group of women discussing their plan to snag police officers for themselves and darted along the wall, hoping no one saw her. Warm summer breeze greeted her outside, carrying the scent of the Hudson River and a nearby bakery. Descending the steps, she looked right and left, finally catching sight of Matt halfway down the block.
“Matt. Wait.”
His shoulders stiffened and he slowed to a stop, but didn’t turn around. She kept walking until she stood five feet away, staring nervously at his back.
“What is it, Lucy?”
The sharp way he said her name sent a jolt through her, but there was also a sense of relief to finally hear him call her by the correct name. And boy, did that make her feel like an ass**le. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know that’s not even remotely adequate, but I couldn’t let you leave without hearing it.” He turned slowly and she fell back a step at the anger she saw in his expression, yet still he said nothing. “Could you please say something?”
“Why did you do it? Why lie?”
Stupidly, that was the one question she hadn’t anticipated. She’d expected, or hoped rather, that he would just shout something awful at her. It would have made her feel better. Absolved her of a tiny bit of her guilt. Instead, he’d caught her off guard, giving her no choice but to answer honestly. “I wanted you. In the coffee shop, before I knew who you were,” she said quietly, watching his jaw clench. “Then I heard you call me a nuisance…and I guess I just wanted to be someone who didn’t inspire irritation. Just for one day. I didn’t want to be your best friend’s little sister. I wanted to be me.”
“Only you weren’t you. You pretended to be someone else.”
“The only thing I lied about was my name. Everything else—”
“In this case, your name was the most important detail.” He pushed a hand through his black hair. “I never would have touched you if I’d known.”
“That’s the other reason I lied,” she whispered, trying to ignore the stab of hurt over his statement. She didn’t want to hear that. Wanted to keep imagining that he’d been so attracted to her that he’d had no choice.
Eyes closed, Matt shook his head. “It can’t happen again. It won’t.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I f**ked you on your hands and knees on the floor of a dingy motel room that rented by the hour. More than that, I—”