I don’t think I’d ever truly enjoyed live music until tonight.

I’d told myself I was actually here just to talk to her. I had a right to know whether or not she was pregnant, surely. I’d been going nearly out of my mind in the last few weeks, wondering whether the morning-after pill had worked. I couldn’t just call her and ask; she’d never given me her number. And something told me getting her info from one of our mutual friends wasn’t the best idea. It would raise too many questions about why I wanted to talk to her, ones I wasn’t really prepared to answer. Our friends were just too nosy, especially Celia. She could ferret out the truth in an instant. Must be the lawyer in her.

No, in the end I’d had to get creative to find Sabine. The things I knew about her could barely be counted on one hand, but I did know she was in a band. So after a few minutes of Googling, I found out when and where they were playing next. I’d come down here tonight with the intention of catching her after the show.

But I’d arrived right before she was about to take the stage, and it just seemed rude not to stay and listen. That’s what I told myself, anyway, as I settled into a rickety bar stool and ordered a beer. I was just waiting it out until I could get a few minutes of her time.

Then she’d walked out on stage in a vintage white dress, sky-high heels, and hair that was even taller than the shoes. She looked like a punk-rock Billie Holliday, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

And then – then – she’d started to sing, and I couldn’t have walked away if I’d tried. Every note, every word, every song was a little piece of her heart, a window into the woman she’d tried so hard to keep hidden from me. She sang of reluctant love, of being driven crazy by her feelings. She weaved tales of smart, independent women who were flummoxed by the men in their lives.

Watching her up there on stage, it suddenly clicked for me. I’d spent weeks thinking she didn’t like me. I’d been dejected, certain in the knowledge that she didn’t want me the way I wanted her. But now, watching her pour her heart out on stage, I knew the truth.

She liked me. She liked me a lot. She just didn’t want to like me.

I grinned as she approached me, all but twitching in my seat at the prospect of being near her again. She, on the other hand, seemed to be conflicted by my presence, her face flickering between excitement and dismay. Finally, she settled on a sort of cautious friendliness, giving me a tight smile.

“Hey,” she said, sounding almost wary.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to give her as harmless a smile as I could in an effort not to send her running for the hills. But judging by the way she nervously licked her lips, I’m not sure I succeeded.

She cleared her throat as she slid into the stool next to me, raising a hand to signal the bartender. He nodded and walked away to fix her drink, and I took the opportunity to study her while she waited. She looked as stunning as ever, though a little tired. I was dying to know what might be keeping her up at night, but I bit my tongue, not sure where to start. Even though she was sitting right next to me, the gulf between us seemed huge.

The bartender returned, setting a steaming-hot mug in front of her. “Thanks, Mel,” she said, giving him a warm smile. He hustled off to help someone else, and an unusual aroma wafted toward me as she lifted the mug to her dark pink-painted lips.

“What have you got there?” I asked, nodding toward her drink.

She took a sip, swallowing slowly, before she answered. “Ginger tea with honey and lemon.” She shrugged. “It helps my throat.”

I nodded. She needed it, too; she’d absolutely shredded through her set tonight.

“The show was amazing,” I told her.

Her eyes were uncharacteristically shy as she turned to me. “You watched?”

I nodded. “You were amazing. I loved every minute of it.”

She gave me a brittle smile, shrugging her bare shoulders. “I was off tonight.”

I shook my head. “You were fantastic. You have a real talent.” My voice rose with my excitement as I continued. “Your phrasing was so unusual, but it suited you. You’re unique. The way you sing, the way you look. I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” I finished, hoping she could read the sincerity in my tone.

She seemed to, as she looked at me through her lashes, her eyes softening. “Thanks.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, until finally I cleared my throat. “So listen. I was hoping we could talk.”

She turned to me, leaning back on her elbows. She raised an eyebrow as she looked me over. “And I was hoping we could do anything but talk,” she replied, giving me a feral smile.

I hitched a breath as she extended one of her long legs, rubbing my shin with the toe of her shoe. Her eyes held too much heat for me to mistake her meaning. She wanted another night with me? Yes, please. I wanted more time with her so badly, I was willing to cut off an arm to get it.

She must have seen the hope in my eyes, because hers narrowed dangerously. “Just this once.”

I took a deep, calming breath. Like pulling teeth, I grumbled to myself.

Except that last time, she’d said it would be “just this once.” And obviously, it hadn’t been enough for her. I’d tried my best to make it as memorable as I could, and it had worked. Because she’d just asked for more.

I grinned. Baby steps. She could have just this one more time. But I’d make certain to leave her wanting another. I’d leave her wanting another time, and another, until in the end, she wanted me for all time.

Slow your roll, Levy. We really needed to clear the air before anything else happened.

“Okay,” I agreed. “But first, we talk.”