SEVEN

 

Only the fact that this was California made what Aaron was wearing okay. In most other cities in the world, a restaurant this fancy would have a dress code that made Aaron’s dark jeans and casual shirt completely unacceptable, and Aaron hung back by the entrance, sure that he had the wrong address.

But when he checked his texts, he saw that he was in the right place. When Brad had suggested a dinner meeting, somehow Aaron had expected something quite a bit less refined than this place, with all of its gilding and enormous, clean paned windows.

Aaron hovered outside, sure that he wasn’t meant to go in there. He was as out of place there as wings would be on a fish, and there had to be some explanation for this. Brad had another meeting there after, wasn’t that a possibility?

This was just supposed to be an official signing of what they’d already agreed to, after all. It would only take a second, but Aaron couldn’t help but wish that Brad had been willing just to do this in his office.

Though that office had some incredibly fun associations now, Aaron had to admit. Though they could never do what they’d done there ever again, he knew he would remember it as the single craziest, most impulsive thing he had ever allowed himself to do.

“Excuse me?” A well-bred young lady in a fancy dress and impeccable makeup touched Aaron’s shoulder, pulling his attention from his thoughts. “I was sent to see if you were waiting outside. Please, follow me.”

Aaron frowned, his brows knitting, but he was stunned enough that he did follow. She had to have the wrong person, right? But how many young men with hair dyed his brilliant, fire engine red would even come to a place like this?

And then he saw Brad, sitting at a table already, with a glass of wine the color of garnets already in front of him. Damned if Aaron hadn’t forgotten just how handsome the guy was. He had made himself forget because otherwise, it would be impossible for him to forget the effect Brad had on him, too.

He had never seen a human being as gorgeous as this one in his life. It hit him with an impact that was almost physical, and no matter what Aaron had told Brad, them sleeping together had not helped at all.

Not that there had been much, or any, sleeping involved in what they had done.

But Aaron had known, almost from the beginning, that this man was the one who could pull the band back up to where it needed to be. Sure, Aaron intended to leave, but he wanted the men who had become something like friends to have their jobs secure, and he needed the money that Brad could make them. So he couldn’t let him leave, and if that meant Aaron needed to keep his hands to himself, he could do that.

“Can I get you a drink?” the young woman asked, with a professional smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Aaron shook his head. He wasn’t going to be staying long, after all, just long enough to sign a contract.

“Sit. Stay a while,” Brad invited, a little smirk of amusement on his face that only deepened his dark good looks. “There’s no need for us to be uncivil about this. Let’s have dinner, and we’ll sign after.”

Aaron frowned, looking deep into Brad’s eyes, which were darkened by the dim, romantic lighting of the expensive restaurant. Actually, the whole place was romantic, and half filled with couples who were obviously out on dates.

Slowly, Aaron sat, though he peered suspiciously at Brad.

“Why here?” he demanded. He hadn’t been agreeing to a date or hadn’t thought that he was. Brad laughed and sipped from his wine, and he seemed far more at place here than Aaron felt.

“I wanted to try out this restaurant.” Brad’s smile was disarming, and even Aaron felt his shoulders relax. “And get to know you a little bit, since we’re going to be working together.”

Aaron wanted to snort softly. Ken, Lance, and even Jamie could tell Brad how easy Aaron made it to get to know him. He was quite deliberate about keeping his distance, as he had already mentioned to Brad. So why was he relaxing into his seat, obviously intending to stay for a while?

For a moment, there was silence, and then Brad spoke again.

“Do you mind if I ask why you’re so hell-bent on a six-month contract?”

Aaron frowned, searching Brad’s face, and then shrugged. There didn’t seem to be any harm in telling him, and maybe it would even help Brad know that any lingering hope that Aaron would change his mind was without merit.

“I have a sister. She’s having a hard time,” Aaron admitted. “She needs me. So I’m going to quit the band after the tour to be home with her.”

There was no pity in Brad’s eyes, as Aaron had half feared would happen if he told anyone. That actually relaxed him a bit, because what he saw was understanding. Like this was somehow a familiar story to Brad. Maybe Aaron was imagining it, but he didn’t think so.

“Is she at Julie’s?” Brad asked, and Aaron tilted his head to look thoughtfully at Brad. Hard to believe that this man, so together, so successful, had once been at a group home for troubled teenagers, but Aaron knew it was true. He nodded, and Brad continued. “Why isn’t she with your parents?”

This. This right here was the difficulty with being around other people, with letting them in. The more Aaron said, the more curious Brad got, and the really weird thing was how much Aaron found that he didn’t actually mind that much.

Still, the way he said the next words, the very blunt force of them, was done quite deliberately, to see if Brad would shy away and change the subject.

“They’re dead.”

Whatever response he was looking to get, he didn’t. Brad frowned, but he didn’t awkwardly talk about how sorry he was, as so many people had done before Aaron had learned to keep it to himself. There was no pity, which was good because pity was something that Aaron just could not handle.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Brad told him, and it seemed sincere, but not patronizing. “How did it happen?”

They were briefly interrupted by the waiter coming to take their orders, and Aaron belatedly glanced down at the menu. He picked the first thing that he saw that looked good, a fusion of Indian and Japanese dishes that seemed interesting. Actually, the whole place looked interesting, trendy and classy at the same time.

Brad had good taste.

The whole time, though, Aaron looked at Brad, and he tried to figure out what it was about the guy that had Aaron spilling his guts. He knew that his bandmates, the closest thing that Aaron had to friends, didn’t know even a fraction of what Brad had so effortlessly drawn out of him.

“Car accident,” Aaron finally said and then dropped his gaze down to the snowy whiteness of the tablecloth, the subtle gleam of ceramic and the brighter luster of the silverware. Better to look at those little details than into Brad’s eyes.

“My mother died having me,” Brad spoke softly, and Aaron raised his eyes, surprised, because there was just a hint of vulnerability to that voice that he wouldn’t have expected. “And my father gave me up for adoption. So I guess you and I have something in common.”

Aaron swallowed around a lump in his throat that made it hard for him to breathe, much less speak, and maybe Brad, who seemed to notice everything, noticed that, too. Either way, he changed the subject, and he even soon had Aaron chatting again.

Aaron didn’t do small talk. Aaron didn’t do talk at all, really. So how the hell was Brad doing this? How was he getting so much from Aaron, when no one else had ever managed to get much of anything at all from him.

Brad was dangerous, and the more that Aaron was around him, the more he realized just how much. He was going to have to be on his guard, and hope that it wasn’t too late.

 

* * *

 

The meal was nothing short of exquisite, and the company even more so, and by the end of it, Aaron surprised himself by how much he was enjoying himself. The fact that it wasn’t a date helped, of course. This was just a business meeting, so he could let his guard down a bit.

Finally, it came to an end, though. The dessert was served, an absolutely exquisite piece of chocolate cake far too rich for either of them to eat alone so they ended up sharing it, which was only practical, after all. Just like the sex had been, the cake was incredible, and it also didn’t mean anything at all.

“Okay. It’s getting late,” Aaron finally told Brad bluntly. “I have to get out of here.”

Not that he had anything special to do, but the longer he stayed here, the more he felt like this was more than just a business meeting. And he had been the one to insist before that this didn’t mean anything. The last thing he needed to do was to fall for this man.

Brad gave him an amused little look, and there was a strange expression that he could get in his eyes like he could see right through all of Aaron’s pretenses and deep into his soul. Of course, it was nothing but an illusion, but it was unsettling anyway.

“Of course. All business, that’s you,” Brad spoke in a wry sort of voice that Aaron found that he didn’t quite know how to translate. Was he being made fun of? It was hard to tell, but before he could decide, Brad pulled out a briefcase that he’d hidden under his seat and opened it up on the table.

“I brought two contracts,” Brad admitted, while Aaron shot him a sharp look, alerted by something in his tone of voice. There was a sort of hesitation in his voice, not anything that most people probably would have noticed, but Aaron was sure of himself. “Just in case you’ve changed your mind.”

He handed a thick sheaf of papers over, and Aaron narrowed his eyes as he skimmed the fine print. He was no lawyer, but it was pretty clear to him within about five minutes of reading which contract he’d been handed.

“I already told you,” Aaron informed him, his voice irritated and not even trying to hide it, “I’m not signing for two years. Give me the other one. The six-month contract.” That was all that he was willing to sign. He’d been clear about that from the beginning.

Brad gave him a little shrug and a roguish grin, one that, for just a moment, Aaron could imagine seeing on the face of someone younger. How old was Brad, anyway? He looked to be in his late twenties but acted much older. But when his eyes crinkled up at the corners, and his lips widened in a sincere smile, Aaron found that he just couldn’t tell.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he murmured and then started poking through more papers. Aaron wasn’t trying to look, he really wasn’t, but he did glimpse the sight of Ken’s name at the top of one of them, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was probably the contracts for the rest of the Lost Boys.

Did they have two contracts, too? Was Brad pitching this solo act thing to all of them? It wasn’t like it mattered to Aaron if he was since it wasn’t like he was going to take Brad up on his offer, no matter how remarkable that offer was.

“Damn it,” Brad finally muttered, and Aaron realized that he’d lost track of time, just daydreaming about the man across the table from him. Aaron shook his head to try to clear it and tilted his head in silent inquiry toward Brad. “I forgot the other contract at home.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow, not entirely sure he believed that. Brad had hardly made any secret about wanting him to stick around, and it just seemed a tiny bit convenient that he had forgotten the contract, the one that Aaron had agreed to, back home.

“Then let’s go get it.”

Maybe it was legit, but either way, Aaron had no intention of letting Brad get away with it. The contract was going to be signed that night because that would get that piece of business out of the way. Then he could call Leah’s social worker, maybe see about what the process would be for him to be ready to get his sister back in his house.

It wasn’t until after he’d spoken that he realized he had pretty much just invited himself over to his manager’s house. His manager, who was incredibly off limits, who Aaron had already had a hard time resisting. Maybe Aaron had had better ideas in his life than to go off somewhere private with him.

On the other hand, they had both agreed to be professional, right? And Aaron had certainly never had any problem resisting that sort of temptation before. Besides, who even said that Brad wanted him? Who said that Brad even had to control himself, since wasn’t it very possible that Brad had gotten the whole thing out of his system, just as Aaron was supposed to have done?

Still, it was presumptuous of him, and Aaron knew it. If Brad complained, he decided that he would back off. He really had no right just to demand to go over to anyone’s house, and he was half tempted to take back the words, to look right into that smirking face, those knowing eyes, and tell Brad that he had changed his mind.

“Let’s go, then,” Brad murmured, and Aaron felt a delightful little shiver race down his spine at the look in the older man’s eyes. All of a sudden, a lot of his doubts were dispelled.

Nothing had changed between them. It should have. They should have both moved on, as they had said that they would, but the desire was there and maybe even stronger than ever.

And he was going to this man’s house, going to be all alone with someone who was looking at Aaron as though he were some particularly delicious piece of cake that the older man wanted to scarf down, to eat right up.

The hell of it was, Aaron thought, as he got to his feet. He went along with it because he was intrigued by the look in those remarkable golden eyes, by the way they seemed to shimmer in a way that made Aaron’s legs go weak.

He was going to go along with him, and he couldn’t even claim, this time, that he was completely unaware of what could happen. He knew, he knew very well, and he also knew that he couldn’t be at all sure if his self-control was up to the task, and yet, he was going.