After Midnight (29 page)

No, he was in trouble because of those other things he didn’t think much about whenever thoughts of her consumed him. Like his goal, his dream and the upcoming meeting with the record company. There was more than just himself at stake, there was also Nick, Alex, and Dominic. More than just his dream riding on his ability to stay focused and get the job done, but their dream, as well. As the one the guys looked to for direction, he needed to stay focused. He couldn’t allow his growing feelings for Isabeau or his desire to be with her to distract him from the real purpose for their being here.

Recording a demo.

Proving they still had what it takes.

A police cruiser drove by while he waged his internal battle. Absently he watched as its brake lights flashed, and the car slowed. He straightened away from the wall when the cruiser came to a stop in front of Izzy’s, and a uniformed officer slid out from behind the wheel. Curious and admittedly a bit worried, he watched the officer, noting that nothing about the man’s actions appeared casual as he positioned his cap atop his head and stared up at the building before him.

He wasn’t there for a hot meal. He was a cop there on business.

His thoughts on Isabeau and how she might be in trouble, he was already ten feet away when the door at his back swung open and Alex stepped out. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Shit. Hadn’t he just been telling himself he needed to remain focused?

Once again he’d been distracted by thoughts of Isabeau, forgetting his true purpose for hanging out in front of the studio. He had to stop doing that. Somehow, someway, he needed to shake loose all thoughts of her so that he could concentrate.

Shoving a hand through his hair, Noah cast one last glance down the street. Then he pushed all thoughts of the ebony-haired bartender to the back of his mind where, this time, he hoped they would stay, and faced Alex.

Alex Morgan, the youngest of the group. They’d brought him in to fill the hole Danny’s death had left. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, he looked more like a surfer than a drummer, but drumming was his talent. Too bad women seemed to be another talent of his. A bit of a playboy, Alex spent all of his free time cruising the nightclubs of Manhattan. It was beginning to show.

The irony wasn’t lost on Noah as he said, “Alex, we need to talk about how you’re spending your evenings and the effect it’s having on the band.”

****

“He’s like a bear with a sore paw,” Dominic said, with a shake of his head. “Seriously, Isabeau, I don’t know how much more of him I can take. Can’t you do something?”

One look at Dominic’s face and Isabeau knew he wasn’t exaggerating. His eyes appeared troubled, his customary smile absent. “What would you have me do?”

His eyebrow arched as he met her gaze.

“You want me to take Noah to bed?” she asked incredulous.

“Luv, you can take him in the lounge at the studio for all I care, just make the man happy before I’m forced to take him out back.”

She couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up. “I’m sorry, but the imagery…” Holding her stomach, she laughed long and hard. Until Dom’s expression soured. Then, she sighed.

Truthfully, she’d been afraid this would happen. Over the past week, she’d seen no signs that Noah had accepted his grandfather’s death, nothing to indicate that he had faced his grief. Since he’d gone these last two days without coming to see her, she’d chosen to give him his space. Hoping against hope that he remained absent from her life because he was dealing with emotions he didn’t feel comfortable expressing in front of her. It appeared that wasn’t the case.

“Look, as appealing as your suggestion is, it won’t solve anything. Noah’s problem is that he has yet to properly grieve for Henry. Until he does, nothing we do is going to help.”

Dominic closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I know,” she replied, then covered his hand with her own.

“He’s going to force me to take him out back and kick his arse.”

“Please don’t.”

“Come on, Isabeau, I promise not to hurt him too badly. Can’t I knock some sense into him? Every day he gets worse.”

Before she could reply, the door swung open and Noah stepped into the bar. His spine was stiff, his shoulders rigid. Dark circles ringed his eyes and a tiny nick marked his left cheek. Her throat tightened. How long could he go on like this before he broke?

The need to slip out from behind the bar and hold him was intense. She would have done it, if she hadn’t caught a flash of something cold and dark in his eyes. Noted how his balance shifted as he looked from her to the top of the bar where her hand remained atop Dominic’s, and back again.

His hands clenched against his thighs. “Don’t you two look cozy? I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

Dominic shifted, the muscles in his arm flexed.

“Don’t,” Isabeau warned. She recognized the look of someone spoiling for a fight. She’d seen it enough times, both in her childhood and at the bar. What surprised her was that Noah was the one wearing the look. “That’s what he wants.”

“Then I should oblige.”

“Dom,” she said, only to be ignored.

Dominic turned and faced Noah. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he asked, his voice low, challenging. “Bullshit insinuations? Don’t hold back, Noah. You want to have a go at someone, let’s go. I’ve had it with your foul attitude.”

Noah’s long strides ate up the distance between them. Isabeau barely made it out from behind the bar before they squared off. She pushed between them and settled a hand on both chests, exerting just enough pressure to encourage them to separate.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked Noah.

“He’s a bloody prick, that’s what,” Dominic replied.

Noah’s lip curled.

Isabeau sighed. “Knock it off, both of you.”

“No worries, I’m off,” Dominic said, the edge of anger in his voice. His face was grim when he looked down at her. “I’ll see you later.”

“Sure.” She waited until the door swung shut behind him to face Noah again.

“Give me a dark lager,” he stated then leaned against the bar in a way that was deceptively casual.

She narrowed her eyes, welcoming the flare of temper that moved through her. At least it blocked out the want. She wanted so many things when she looked at him. Offering comfort was only a small part of it. “Funny.”

“I’m serious.”

He was. That was the problem. A fist tightened around her heart. “Is that your answer? You don’t want to feel, so you plan to numb the pain with alcohol?”

“It’s a thought.”

“Are you sure you want to fall back into that cycle?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed. “I can handle a few beers.”

“Can you?”

He gave her a caustic smile. “I have before.”

“Yes, but you weren’t trying to deny your grief then.” She stepped closer, cupped the side of his face. Her heart was bleeding for him, for what he needed to accept, but continued to fight against with everything he had. “He’s gone, Noah. I’m sorry.”

Something flashed across his face. For a brief second, she caught a glimpse of the pain inside of him, but then it was gone.

He jerked away from her touch. “Damn it, Isabeau, give me a beer!”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “What if you’re wrong? What if you can’t handle it? Are you willing to risk your career, your comeback?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “That’s not—”

“Of course you’re not, that’s why you came here. Because you know I won’t serve you.”

A strange light glinted in his eyes as he stared down at her. He shifted, backing her against the bar and pressing his body against hers. His hands settled on either side of her, pinning her in place. “Is that why I’m here?” he asked quietly. “Are you sure?”

The press of his erection against her belly shocked her. Even more surprising was the realization that if she could see even the slightest bit of heat in his eyes, anything other than that ice cold glint, she would lock the doors and take him upstairs. She was that far gone over this man.

She swallowed with difficulty. “That won’t help either.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“Noah…”

“Is that a no?”

“You need more than—”

“What’s the matter, Isa? You find someone else to warm your sheets?”

His suggestion was so cliché it was almost laughable. Almost. The trembling started in her knees and worked up her body. Her hands had a fine tremor to them. She curled her fingers into her palms and clenched her teeth. Damn him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I won’t fight with you, no matter how insulting you are.”

“No?”

“No.”

“And you obviously won’t fuck me either.”

She pushed against his chest until he backed away. “Not when you’re acting like this.”

“Then why did I bother to come here?”

His words were razor sharp—cruel and biting. And they hit their target.

“That’s a good question, Noah. Was it to hurt me? Was that your goal?” Imagine that. She could sound cool and collected even as she bled inside. “Well, congratulations, your trip was a success. Your callousness hurts. Do you feel better now? Does my pain somehow lessen yours?”

Needing distance, she sidled down the bar and slipped to the other side. “Go away. I have to prepare for the lunch crowd.”

He opened his mouth as if he had something he wanted to say then closed it without comment. His jaw clenched tighter, a muscle jerked in his cheek as he stared at her. He didn’t budge.

“Get out, Noah. Come back and see me when you can be civil.”

Isabeau didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that he’d felt the need to lash out at her. Or that his face remained a cool, emotionless mask even as he turned and walked away.

****

After Noah left, Isabeau was so angry that she called Clint and told him to take the night off. If he wondered why she chose to work from open to close behind the bar, he didn’t ask. He just thanked her for freeing up his evening and promised to be on time for his shift the next night.

It was a long, exhausting day. Exactly what she needed to keep her mind occupied and off the sandy-haired singer she didn’t know how to help. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to be enough to guarantee sleep.

Isabeau overturned the chairs onto the tables, mopped the floor, washed the glassware, and cleaned the bathrooms. She disinfected every surface in the kitchen, checked and double-checked the locks on the doors and even did her liquor inventory. Still, sleep continued to evade her.

In case her problem had to do with the chill in her apartment, she crawled out of bed. Using the light from the streetlamp outside her front window to guide her across the room, she adjusted the temperature. Then, because she was already up, she wandered to the window to watch the storm roll in.

She loved storms. Even as a child, when most kids her age were terrified by the rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning, she’d been enthralled by it. She couldn’t remember how many nights her mother had gotten out of bed to check on her during a storm, and found her awake and standing at the window—engrossed in the power and the beauty of nature’s symphony.