Double Act Read online

  Sean got to his feet—much to Ninotchka’s dismay—and casually brushed off his legs. “No big deal. I’m not used to pet hair, though. Pip doesn’t shed.” Then he raised his eyes and met Emerson’s gaze. A smile sprang to Sean’s lips, perfect and charming. “So, you all set?”

  “Ready when you are.”

  They left, after Emerson said a quick goodbye to his dog. He was actually glad to get out of there quickly. With Ninotchka distracting Sean, he hadn’t had a good look at Emerson’s rundown studio. While Emerson was fine with the size and space, it would have to be far below what Sean was used to.

  They walked down the stairs to the ground floor and out to Sean’s car. He said he wouldn’t bring the limo, but it was almost as flashy. A bright red Mustang with two orange stripes beeped when Sean hit the alarm button. He hurried to the passenger door and opened it for Emerson.

  “Thanks,” Emerson said, climbing in. The interior was all gray leather, and smelled new and fresh. Sean shut the door, made his way to the driver’s side, then climbed in.

  When Sean started the car, Simon and Garfunkel played softly through the speakers. Even still, Sean thumbed the knob and turned the volume down farther. With both his hands on the wheel, he glanced over at Emerson, that same smile on his face.

  “I’m really happy to see you.”

  “Me, too. Thank you for the invitation.”

  Again, Sean waved away Emerson’s words. “Thank you for accepting. It’s been a rough few days, you know. Bouncing back from the accident has been…tedious. And now that your name has surfaced, it’s all been stirred up again.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Sean laughed, and put the car into drive. He checked his mirrors, then set off.

  “Will you finally tell me where we’re going?”

  “Let’s see if you can guess.”

  Sean turned the car to the right on 2nd Avenue, then a right again on 39th Street. This would lead to the Lincoln Tunnel. Was Sean taking them to New Jersey? Of course, there were a million restaurants from here to the tunnel. How was he supposed to guess?

  Seafood. Sean had mentioned seafood. So maybe something along the river?

  Emerson pinched his chin and glanced at Sean. This was a man who had wealth and fame. This was a man who liked to show off. This was a man who was so skilled at manipulating people to get what he wanted. Someplace fancy, then. Somewhere exclusive. Something exotic.

  It all connected in his mind, then. “A dinner cruise?”

  Sean’s eyes went wide and he shifted his gaze from the road to stare at Emerson. “How did you know?”

  Emerson laughed. “Keep your eyes forward. We don’t want another almost-accident.”

  Sean obliged. “How?”

  “It just seemed like something you would do.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  Emerson snorted. “No. Not something I could afford.”

  “Since you work for a cruise line, I thought maybe you’d been on one of these before.”

  “I’ve never been on a boat at all.”

  Sean glanced at him again, but it was a quick look. “Seriously? Not even a rowboat out on a lake?”

  Emerson shook his head. “Never been interested in boats. My parents have gone on a ton of cruises—mostly because I can get them good deals—and they always say I should try one. But, I’d rather stay home and watch movies on my vacation time.”

  “Nothing wrong with doing what you like.”

  “Yeah,” Emerson said with a smile. Most everyone else dismissed his vacations as being a waste of time. At least Sean understood.

  When they got to the river, Sean turned south, along West Street, then turned again on Clarkson. He pulled off to the left side of the street where a valet attendant stood in front of a podium reading Starfinder Yacht. He rolled down his window.

  “Reservation for Stirling,” he told the attendant.

  The man searched on his tablet, then nodded. “I’ve got you down, Mr. Stirling.”

  Sean climbed from the car, pulling a black cardigan from the back seat. Emerson exited, too. The attendant handed Sean a piece of paper, then took a seat behind the wheel. Emerson joined Sean on the sidewalk and watched as the man pulled away.

  “You sure this is legit?”

  “Yeah, I’ve eaten here about a dozen times. It’s top notch seafood.” He slipped on his cardigan, put the piece of paper into his pocket, then turned to Emerson. “All set? We have to walk to the boat from here.”

  They started off toward the river, right across the street. Of course it was busy this time of night, so Emerson kept close to Sean’s side to keep from being separated once they reached the crowds. Sean smiled and then slipped his arm around Emerson’s. It wasn’t cold enough to warrant the snuggling, but Emerson allowed it. It brought Sean even closer, and Emerson could smell the fresh scent of his cologne.

  After crossing the street, they walked along the sidewalk to the first pier that extended out over the water. Emerson’s feet stilled when he saw the ship. It was much, much bigger than he expected. It stood three stories above the water and stretched nearly as long as the end of the pier.

  “Impressive, huh?” Sean asked.

  “Very.”

  “Wait till you taste the food.” Then he made a noise that sounded like a moan. It sent a sharp tingle through Emerson, making his hair stand on end.

  At the base of the narrow, wooden passageway that led to the boat—Emerson thought it was called a gangplank—another attendant stood. He was dressed in a stereotypical sailor outfit—white pants and shirt, a navy necktie, even the goofy looking hat.

  “Good evening,” he greeted. “You have a reservation?”

  “Stirling, for two,” Sean answered.

  The man noticed who Sean was, of course, but the only thing that betrayed the recognition was a tiny jump. He kept his professionalism in place, though his smile seemed more authentic. “Of course, Mr. Stirling. Head on board. We still have about twenty minutes until our departure time.”

  The attendant pulled back a metal chain that allowed them to enter the wooden ramp.

  “Thank you,” Sean said. He gave Emerson a quick tug and they started forward.

  When Emerson’s feet hit the gangplank, it groaned beneath his weight. The sound echoed over the water below, amplifying it back to his ears. He froze, suddenly nervous.

  Sean must have noticed Emerson tensing. He stopped, too, and turned to Emerson.

  “You okay?”

  Emerson swallowed. “The water. It’s kind of unsettling.”

  Sean raised his eyebrows. “We’ll go someplace else.” He started to turn around.

  His easy acceptance of Emerson’s anxiety made Emerson feel like a child. “No, it’s fine. I’ve never been on a boat before. I’m sure I’ll be okay after a while.”

  “No, we can try a different restaurant. I should have asked you about this before taking you here.”

  “If you asked, I would have said yes. Really. Let’s go.” Now it was Emerson who tugged on Sean to get him moving. They continued up the ramp. Emerson kept his eyes forward and tried to block out the sound of the water.

  They made it to the top and took their first steps onto the ship’s deck. Emerson immediately gripped the metal railing with his free hand. The metal was solid, comforting, until a minute wave in the water moved the ship up slightly. The movement was almost unperceivable, but Emerson felt it like it was a plummet from the top of a roller coaster. It was a hundred times worse than the ramp.

  Sean looked at him, his brows drawn down with concern, his face leaning close. “Emerson?”

  Get it together, he told himself. He was supposed to be a grown man. To give into this sudden fear in front of Sean was unacceptable. He forced himself to let go of the rail, to stand up straight, to take a step forward.

  Sean still glanced at him, but allowed Emerson to pull him along.

  They headed for a door which opened into a lavish dining room. C
rystal chandeliers hung every few feet, long velvet curtains a deep burgundy framed the windows, lush carpets of brown and red and gold lined every inch of the floor. The tables had a candle floating in a decorative vase filled with water, and their tablecloths of pure white formed perfect drapes at the corners.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Emerson said, forgetting his anxiety for the moment and glancing around the room. It was easily the fanciest place he’d ever been, including the place in Vegas where they’d eaten after Hazel’s wedding.

  “I’m glad you like it. Wait until you see our level.”

  Emerson turned to Sean. “We’re not eating in here?”

  Sean shook his head.

  A hostess approached them, also dressed in a sailor uniform. It was the exact same as the man on the dock—not the sexy, Halloween style Emerson expected. “Mr. Stirling,” she said. “This way, please.”

  Instead of heading toward a table, she took them along the side of the wall, heading to the front of the boat—was that the prow or the stern? After joining Olympus Cruise Line, Emerson had a crash course in nautical terminology. Clients, though, rarely asked for that information, so it faded from his mind long ago. Now, it felt important, somehow.

  Along the wall was a narrow staircase that lead to the floors above. They couldn’t stand side by side, so they were forced to release their hold on each other. The woman led the way, Sean following, and Emerson bringing up the rear.

  The next level contained a half dozen tables, spaced farther around the room, giving much more privacy to the diners. Or maybe it was intended for a party or gathering. Either way, the hostess led them past, and up to the next. It was the top, and the stairwell opened onto a smaller, more intimate setting. There was a table at the center, with the vase, candle, and tablecloth. But there was also a couch along the back wall, and several armchairs with side tables. Off to the left, there were open doors, not windows, which led to a balcony.

  The hostess gestured them forward to the table. She pulled back Sean’s seat, then walked to the other side and did the same for Emerson. She placed a menu in front of each of them.

  “Landa will be serving you tonight,” she said. “Enjoy your meal.”

  “Thanks,” Emerson told her.

  She smiled, then disappeared down the stairwell.

  Emerson glanced around the room again. The elegance was almost off-putting. Too extravagant. How much was this going to cost Sean?

  His eyes wandered around and finally settled on his date. Sean held the menu in his hands, but he wasn’t reading it. Instead, his gaze was glued to Emerson, and his grin was growing by the second.

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful. But…isn’t this a bit much?” He gestured to the room and all its luxuries.

  Sean waved a hand. “Not too much. I mean, I don’t think I’d want to eat here every night, but there’s nothing wrong with indulging.”

  Emerson glanced down at his outfit. “I feel underdressed. Maybe a tuxedo would have been better.”

  “I wish you were undressed, but you definitely don’t need a tuxedo. This place isn’t as fancy as you’re thinking. They don’t even have a dress code. You could wear jeans and be fine.”

  Emerson let the undressed comment slide. Sean’s flirting was also over the top.

  “Honestly, Emerson. This is my way of saying thank you. You saved my life. I wanted to pay that back, and I know expensive things doesn’t equate the value of a human life, but it’s the best I could do.”

  Emerson nodded. Looking at it like that made sense. “You don’t need to thank me, Sean. It was the right thing to do. People don’t need to be rewarded for doing the right thing.”

  Sean chuckled slightly. “No, you’re looking at it wrong. With dog training, you reward the good behavior, not punish the bad. Shouldn’t it be the same in people?”

  Emerson laughed, too, pondering Sean’s idea. Reward the good? Maybe it worked for children in school, but real life didn’t abide by those rules.

  Their server was suddenly by their table. “Welcome to Starlight,” he said as he put down elegant wine glasses filled with water. “My name is Landa. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like to start off with a bottle of champagne? Or wine?”

  Sean studied the list of beverages of a moment before looking to Emerson. “White wine okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He turned to Landa. “We’ll have a bottle of the Javillier Corton Charlemagne, please.”

  “Excellent choice. I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu.”

  After he left, Emerson finally looked at the menu. He’d been afraid to, knowing the prices would be steep. Sure enough, they were astronomical. He found the wine Sean had ordered and it was nearly $200.

  “Don’t worry about the price,” Sean said, apparently reading Emerson’s mind. “Get anything you want. Though I do recommend the sea bass. It’s delicious.”

  Emerson bit his lip. Sean insisted. It wasn’t wrong for Emerson to accept the offer. He set the menu off to the side. “Sea bass sounds good.”

  “What about an appetizer? They have stuffed mushrooms that are wonderful.” Again, Sean moaned softly.

  “Sure,” Emerson agreed. Anything that made Sean sound like that had to be worth it.

  Landa returned with their bottle of wine, chilled in a silver bucket of ice, and two wine glasses. He popped off the cork and then poured them each a few ounces of the white liquid. He returned the bottle to the ice. He turned to Sean first. “And have you decided what you’d like to order?”

  “We’ll start with the stuffed mushrooms. And I’ll take the sea bass with a side of wild rice.”

  Landa took Sean’s menu, then turned to Emerson. “And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll have the sea bass, too. With the Brussels sprouts.”

  He nodded and accepted the menu from Emerson. “I’ll have the mushrooms out shortly.”

  When he vanished down the stairwell, Sean took a slow sip of the wine. He made an appreciative noise, then he nodded his head toward the side. “Want to go out onto the balcony? It’s a great view.”

  Emerson could see from here how amazing it was. The light of the city reflected off the water, making it seem like an endless swirl of fireflies. But…

  “I don’t think I can. The water…”

  “Still not comfortable?”

  “If I think about it, it’s hard to breathe.”

  “We can just stay here, then. Want me to close the door?”

  They were glass, so closing them wouldn’t make a difference, but it was sweet to offer. “No, it’s fine. But if you want to go out and look, you can.”

  Sean smiled. “I’ve got a great view right here.” Then Sean was leaning forward, his eyes closed, his lips expectant. He stopped halfway across the table, leaving Emerson to cover the rest of the distance. Or not.

  He did.

  Sean tasted sweet, like the wine. Emerson hadn’t tried it yet, but Sean’s flavored kiss hinted at how delicious it would be. And his lips were soft and insistent. There was a hunger beneath it, but contained, for now.

  Emerson pulled back, before that hunger could be released. He met Sean’s gaze and saw a hint of blue in the depths of those green eyes. This close, there was an assortment of hues to observe. Emerson could spend an hour and not identify every shade. He was probably the most gorgeous person Emerson had ever seen. His beauty was flawless.

  He surged forward, connecting their lips again. Sean froze, likely startled by Emerson’s intensity, but he quickly warmed up. The kiss deepened and Emerson opened his mouth to Sean’s exploring tongue. The taste of wine became more prominent, but so did the taste of Sean. Without meaning to, Emerson lifted his hands and cupped Sean’s face, holding him close. At the added physical contact, Sean made a noise, almost like a whimper. Emerson retreated.

  “Sorry,” he said. He had to swallow before adding, “Did I hurt you?”

  Surprisingly, Sean’s chee
ks took on a bit of color. “No, you didn’t hurt me. In fact, it was the opposite.”

  The arrival of their mushrooms cut off the questions Emerson wanted to ask. Had the whimper been a sign of arousal? The idea made Emerson dizzy.

  Landa set down the plate of mushrooms, and after inquiring if they needed anything else, he set off again. It was odd having the room to themselves. No other diners, no other servers. Just the two of them. He couldn’t tell if he liked it, or thought it creepy.

  Emerson picked up his glass and sipped the wine. It was sweet, though it tasted better on Sean’s lips.

  Stop it, he scolded himself. He needed to remember that this was Sean Stirling, a famous musician. A man who proved he was a flirt and a manipulator. One on one like this, it was easy to forget everything else. Sean seemed so normal.

  Across the table, Sean was loading mushrooms onto his plate. “You better grab one before I eat them all.”

  Emerson focused on the appetizer. They looked simple, just mushrooms covered with cheese. He stabbed one with his fork and moved it to his plate. He sliced it in half, then popped the bite into his mouth. His taste buds exploded. The combination of garlic and parmesan was perfect. The mushroom was almost meaty, earthy, and not at all rubbery.

  “This is amazing,” he said after he swallowed it. He ate the other half and had to close his eyes to savor the taste.

  “I always get these here. They use organic mushrooms, from a farm near Albany. Carlos, the sous chef, gave me the recipe but they don’t taste the same at home.”

  “You like to cook at home? I figured you’d hire someone to do that.”

  “I love to cook, when I have the time. With my schedule, it’s hard to squeeze in.” He took a sip of his wine, then peered at Emerson over the top of the glass. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? I’ll make you something.”

  “That sounds nice. When can you pencil me in?”

  Sean laughed. “Tomorrow?”

  “Two dates in a row? Won’t your manager get mad?”

  “I can handle her. Besides, with my extra work yesterday, I’m so much closer to finishing the album.”

  “What an amazing process—”