Double Act Read online

  Emerson laughed. “My dog? Well, her name is Ninotchka. She’s a long-haired dachshund. Piebald. She’s gorgeous.”

  “A Russian name for a German dog.”

  “I named her after the film. You ever seen it?”

  Sean shook his head.

  “It’s beautiful. Greta Garbo is spectacular, and Melvyn Douglas is dashing. Great romance.”

  “You’ll have to show it to me.”

  “I will,” Emerson agreed. “I guess you probably don’t have pets. Too much time on the road.”

  “I actually do. A labradoodle, named Pip.”

  “Ah, Great Expectations.”

  A titter escaped Sean’s lips, a very childish sound. “Not quite. I’m not all sophisticated like that. A pip is what the dots on dominoes are called.”

  “So why not name him Domino?”

  “My previous dog was Domino. He died about two years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Sean waved a hand. “Don’t be. Domino was a great dog. But Pip is awesome, too. He’s super sweet. A lot more affectionate than Domino was.”

  “It’s funny how animals can fill so much space in our lives.” As soon as he said it, he felt like an idiot. Spouting all that nonsense in front of this man.

  But Sean didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, he agreed. “I’ve had dogs my whole life, and their simple presence helped ease so much pain.” Then he grinned. “Maybe we’ll have to have a doggie playdate. Pip would love the company.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Ninotchka’s friendly when we go out on walks, so I think she’d be fine.”

  “Well, our date comes first, all right? Then we’ll work something out for them.”

  “All right.”

  Emerson took a drink of his coffee and Sean just stared at him. He was a bug under the microscope, but couldn’t summon the desire to care. Being ogled by Sean Stirling was not something to complain about.

  “Would you think me forward if I kissed you?”

  The question startled Emerson, but it shouldn’t have. “You kissed me yesterday. Why would it be too forward now?”

  Sean shrugged. “Yesterday I could blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the joy at being alive. Now I just want to do it.”

  Emerson swallowed. “Yeah, I guess that would be okay.”

  The singer moved in closer. “You sure?”

  His nearness tantalized. A shiver shot through Emerson’s body. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Another inch. Their eyes were locked.

  Is he waiting for me to make the final move? To meet him halfway?

  If so, Emerson could deliver. He closed the remaining distance between them brushing his lips to Sean’s. Yesterday, the singer’s mouth had been dry, but today they were wonderfully moist, and tasted of coffee. It was a quick kiss, not lingering too long, but still soft and simple. They pulled apart and smiled.

  The door chime sounded again and a flood of people entered. This was the usual morning crowd, getting ready to grab their coffee before heading upstairs. Emerson didn’t have the budget to do this often, so he usually just brewed a pot at home, which was easier than dealing with this zoo.

  Sean tensed and his fingers tightened on his cup.

  “You can put your things back on,” Emerson said.

  The signer sighed. He slipped the sunglasses over his eyes and pulled the scarf a bit higher on his neck.

  “No one would think to find you here,” Emerson continued. “It’ll be fine.” A not-so-pleasant thought struck him. “Unless, you’d rather just take off now. I understand.”

  Sean’s eyebrows appeared over the rims of the glasses. “What? There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here right now. Unless, you’re ready for me to leave.”

  Emerson laughed and after a pause, Sean did, too. Funny that a celebrity could be equally self-conscious.

  “So, you’re working on a new album?”

  Sean relaxed slightly. His fingers still gripped the empty cup. “Yeah. My process is a bit different than most songwriters—”

  “You write your own songs?” Emerson cut in. “Like, you don’t pay writers to do it for you?”

  “No, I write all my own songs. That’s why it’s kinda different. Whenever motivation strikes, I write it down. Throughout the year, I get dozens of ideas for lyrics, snatches of melodies. So when it’s time to compile the album, I go through my notes and see what’s ready. Basically, it’s just crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s. Pretty simple.”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  Sean lifted his shoulders. “Macie’s been hounding me like crazy about it, though. She’s been with me for the past six years, you’d think she’d understand my process by now.”

  “Wow, that’s a long time already in the business.”

  “I was lucky Macie found me. Despite her attitude, she’s a wonderful person. A great friend.”

  “I’d love to meet her.”

  Sean barked a laugh. “Not before you’re ready. She’s a mean old bitch. Probably’d take your arm off at the moment.”

  “Why? What did I do?”

  Pulling down the glasses, Sean peered over the top. “You’ve captured my interest. That’s a crime in her book.”

  “That’s hardly my fault.”

  He waved away the comment. “I’m sure she’ll calm down soon. So, don’t worry about it.”

  “If you tell me not to worry, I will worry.”

  Sean laughed again, then he was closing the space between them. The move was so sudden, Emerson almost flinched back. Instead, Sean’s warm lips met his. Emerson relaxed into the kiss, completely unaware of the strangers in the shop. He didn’t care who looked over and saw. All that mattered was the heat radiating from Sean.

  When Sean pulled back, a soft sigh escaped his lips, almost a moan. “And I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today.”

  Emerson glanced at his watch and saw it was ten till. “Shit!”

  “You only got to go up the elevator, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll make it on time.”

  “Sorry to dash so quickly.” He got to his feet and drained the last of his coffee.

  Sean stood up, too. “Don’t be. I’m just happy I got to see you.”

  Emerson froze in the motion of tossing his cup into the trash. He smiled at Sean. “Me, too.”

  “But I’ll see you on Saturday. Seven o’clock.”

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Emerson completed his move, then walked into Sean’s personal space. The singer was slightly shorter, so Emerson tilted his chin down. At the same time, Sean lifted his face. They kissed again, and this time Sean’s sound was unmistakably a moan. When Emerson pulled back, a tint of red colored Sean’s cheeks.

  “If you go out walking, please be careful. Don’t want you to slip when I’m not there to save you.”

  “I will be careful,” Sean answered with a soft laugh. “Have a good day.”

  Emerson turned from the warmth of Sean’s body. He headed deeper into the shop, and the exit into the building. At the corner, he glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes with Sean. Even from this distance, with so many people separating them, Emerson could make out that wide smile.

  How was he supposed to focus on work if he couldn’t keep the memory of Sean’s kiss out of his mind? His fingers traced the residual heat along his lips as he rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor.

  Chapter 7

  Sean watched Emerson disappear among the crowd. At the corner, when Emerson glanced back, Sean’s breath caught in his throat. The man was incredibly gorgeous. And that kiss. Slow but satisfying. A promise of good things to come, he hoped.

  He shrugged his coat back over his shoulders and rewrapped the scarf around his face. At least outside it wouldn’t cause comment. The February chill made a good excuse for bulky clothing.

  Out on the street, Sean pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Jake.

&n
bsp; “I’m all done. Can you come pick me up?”

  “The car’s already on the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  He leaned against the building, watching the flood of people head up and down the street. Most didn’t even glance his way. Despite what Emerson said, it was a good disguise.

  The SUV pulled up and Sean did a double take at seeing Macie in the backseat instead of Jake. He pulled the passenger door open and slid in. Macie’s cold eyes appraised him.

  “Morning,” he greeted, forcing good cheer. Her presence could only mean something unpleasant.

  “How was coffee?” she asked.

  “Good, though I’ll have to do an extra thirty minutes of cardio to compensate for the calories.”

  “And Emerson?”

  Sean eyed her sideways. “He was fine, thanks for asking. He actually treated me.”

  “Isn’t that sweet,” she said, but didn’t sound as if she believed it.

  “Just come out and say what you’re thinking.”

  “I think you’re an idiot.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Sean, you are a smart man, but you constantly make very stupid decisions.”

  “Jesus, I met the man for coffee, not sex in the bathroom.”

  She pursed her lips. “If he’d shown an interest, would you have had sex in the bathroom?”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “No, that is my point. Even if he didn’t know who you were yesterday, he knows now. How long before he realizes he can take you for everything?”

  Sean began to retort, but stopped. Was he falling into the same trap again? Could Emerson be just as much of a prick as Carl? Or Mark? Or Cohen?

  He shook his head. “Macie, you’ve always said I have a unique view of the world—that I look on the bright side of things. If I start doubting the kindness in people, I’ll lose that.”

  “There’s a difference between being optimistic and being gullible.”

  “I’m not gullible.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Listen, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take it slow with Emerson. But I’m not going to throw away this chance.”

  “I don’t have any intention of running your life. You know you’re an adult, and you can choose for yourself. I’m reminding you to be careful. It hurts me to see you in pain. And it’s all that seems to happen with the guys you pick.”

  “Well I didn’t pick Emerson. God did.”

  Macie rolled her eyes.

  “So,” Sean continued, knowing he’d won this round, “is the intervention over?”

  “You’re such a drama queen. It was never an intervention.”

  “Then why are you here instead of Jake?”

  “Because, you egocentric bastard, you asked Jake to take Pip to the vet this morning. He’s probably there by now, getting his shots.”

  Sean gulped. He did recall Pip’s vet appointment. Usually Sean forced himself to go, but Pip was due for shots, and Sean couldn’t stand hearing the big dog yelp. The labradoodle was such a baby. Much like his owner in that regard.

  “Shit. I forgot. Then why did Jake answer the phone when I called him?”

  “Because you pay him to. Now, you need to focus on the interview. Do you want to run through a list of questions they’re likely to ask?”

  “I don’t need that anymore, Macie. I’ll be fine.”

  “Please keep comments about yesterday to a minimum. Especially in concerns to Emerson.”

  “I have no intention of dragging his name into anything. He wants to remain anonymous. I’ll respect that…at least until the press gets his info. It shouldn’t be long now. He gave it to the dispatcher over the phone.”

  “Stick to the tour. Tidbits about the new album. Nothing concrete since we haven’t released a lot of those details yet.”

  “I know, Macie.”

  “You say you do, but for some reason you forget as soon as I’m farther than five feet away.”

  Sean smiled sweetly. “You can always do the interview yourself.”

  She barked a laugh. “Shut up, you idiot.”

  They rode the rest of the way to the magazine’s office in silence. Sean contented himself with surfing his social media accounts and sending a few messages and replies to his fans. He’d posted more than usual yesterday, just to assure the worried populace that he was okay. Right before they reached the building, at Broadway and 88th Street, Sean texted Emerson. Just something short to thank him for the coffee. He didn’t want to come on too strong.

  Yes, I do. It’s my curse. I just can’t take things slow. As soon as I get a prospect, I throw myself at it like a dog at his dinner.

  It didn’t stop him from hitting send. Or checking his phone every five minutes to see if Emerson had written back.

  * * * *

  Emerson felt the phone vibrate in his pocket, but it wasn’t until his lunch break that he was able to look. He’d figured it would be from Sean; everyone else knew to wait until the evening.

  I’m already expecting his texts, Emerson though at he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the message. How far down does this rabbit hole go?

  Sean’s words were a simple, How’s your day going? But they still made Emerson’s cheeks warm.

  “Who’s that from?” asked Rob, who sat in the cubicle next to Emerson. Rob peered over the divider curiously.

  “No one,” Emerson answered too quickly. He shoved the phone into his pocket like a guilty teenager.

  Rob made an interested noise. “New boyfriend?”

  “No,” he said immediately, then amended, “I don’t know.” He grabbed his coat, flung over the side of the cubicle wall, and walked to the narrow hallway between their work spaces.

  Rob exited his area as well. “Where’d you meet him?”

  “Meet who?” Mal asked, joining them. She pulled a knit beanie down atop her short-cropped hair.

  “Emerson’s new boyfriend,” Rob answered.

  “He’s not—” Emerson began, but it did no good.

  Mal gripped his arm excitedly. “Good for you! It’s about time you moved on. So, what’s his name?”

  Instead of answering, Emerson glanced at the last cubicle at their end. Claudia hadn’t popped up yet. He wasn’t going to repeat himself.

  “What did I miss?” she said as she exited while pulling on a jacket.

  The four of them headed down the hallway toward the elevator.

  “His name is Sean. He’s been a bit flirty, but we aren’t an item or anything.”

  “What’s he like?” Rob asked.

  “Is he cute?” Mal added.

  They climbed into the elevator with a half dozen other people. The office had rotating lunch schedules so they didn’t lose all their customer service representatives at once.

  In the crowded space, Emerson lowered his voice. “Very cute, but not really my type. He’s…bubbly.”

  Claudia giggled. “That doesn’t sound like your type.”

  Mal shrugged. “Anything’s an improvement from Brian. He was an ass. And so stuffy.”

  “He seemed all right to me,” Rob said.

  Emerson sighed. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had the best of luck with “his type” of men. Maybe Sean—being outside the box—would be a better fit. Of course, it still seemed logical that Sean would lose interest quickly and move onto his next celebrity. He’d be bored with a normal person.

  “We have a date on Saturday. I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes.”

  When the elevator dinged and they started to file out, Emerson held back.

  “I’ll meet up with you guys. Save me a seat.”

  They waved and hurried on to the deli around the corner where they had a cheap and quick lunchtime menu. Emerson had to do something first.

  He pulled out his phone and reread the text Sean had sent. Why would this beautiful, talented man even want to communicate with Emerson at all?

  He’s caught up in the moment. I
saved his life. Pure infatuation. It’ll wear off and then he’ll see it’s just plain, old me.

  Emerson thought on how to respond. How was his day? Boring and mediocre. Maybe it was best to be honest. Let Sean see how Emerson’s life really is.

  He replied: It’s been a slow morning. Not much happening which makes time seem to stand still. How’d your interview go?

  He read it over twice, checking for spelling errors, before hitting send. Then, he shoved his phone in his pocket and walked after the others.

  * * * *

  Sean reclined along the full back seat of the SUV when his phone chirped with a text message. He sat up, grasping the device in anticipation. One glance showed it was from Emerson. He thumbed the screen to see the whole message.

  It’s been a slow morning. Not much happening which makes time seem to stand still. How’d your interview go?

  Sean glanced at the clock. Just after noon. He must be on his lunch break. Typing quickly, Sean sent a text back, in hopes of getting a conversation going.

  Sorry it’s slow. Interview went well. Nothing fancy.

  He hit send and waited with bated breath. A reply came almost instantly.

  Thursdays are usually slow, so it’s nothing new. Glad your interview was good. What was it for?

  Sean clutched the phone to his chest and inhaled deeply. His heartbeat already raced. He knew he rushed into relationships—and other things—too quickly, but he couldn’t help himself. And Emerson was so dreamy. All the tell-tale signs told Sean to slow down, but he never listened to them.

  A magazine called The Quiet Guitar. They follow the underground folk singers in the area.

  I thought you were a pop singer.

  Laughing aloud, Sean wrote back, I am, but my roots are in folk music. It’s what I grew up on.

  Me, too.

  Sean smiled. He knew this connection with Emerson was deep. He bet the better acquainted they became, the more they’d find they had in common.

  Right after finishing the interview, Sean had called to make reservations for dinner on Saturday. He had something special in mind and was happy he successfully booked the venue. He couldn’t wait to see Emerson again, especially to gauge his reaction to the location of their date.

  I made reservations for Saturday, 7pm.