New York Minute Page 11

  “I’d love to hear you play. You’re really good.”

  “I can’t pick you up because I’m heading there now to practice, but it starts at nine. You could meet me there.” He propped the guitar against the bench and reached for the bag of rolls. Pulling one out, he broke it in half and handed her the biggest piece. “It’s at Hall of Music, Lower East Side.” He sunk his teeth into his roll and wiped his hand on a napkin. “Know where that is?”

  “I think I’ve been there. The girls and I saw Imagine Dragons last year. You’re playing there? Don’t I need a ticket?” She licked some icing off the corner of her mouth.

  “I’ll leave your name at the door.” He kissed her quickly, exactly on the spot she just licked. “My special guest.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed.

  He definitely affected her as much as she affected him.

  She reached over and took his napkin to wipe her mouth. Pity he couldn’t lick off the icing entirely.

  “It’s a big show, then. Impressive.”

  He stood and pulled her up by her hand. “I should get going. The band will be waiting for me, and Marco will kick my ass for being late.”

  She laughed, pulling her bag off the seat. “And we don’t want that hot ass getting kicked. That’s for me to do.”

  Diego’s hand roamed down her back and he rubbed her perfectly shaped ass. “Whatever you want, cariño.”

  “Oh, you bad, bad boy.” She kissed him quickly and stepped back. “Ready?”

  He shook his head, trying to rid the thoughts of this playful Vero actually kicking his ass. No time for that. He really did need to get to practice—people paid for the show and he owed them a worthy performance. “Let’s get you back to the office.”

  Vero pouted and batted her long, sexy lashes. “Work and no play makes Vero a dull girl.”

  Far from it. After their impromptu lunch and their last days together, he loved having a genuine relationship with a woman, not an aimless bond for publicity’s sake. He used to think that was okay, but now he knew otherwise. Hopefully, Veronica came to the same conclusion soon. Though he enjoyed playing with her wild side, he enjoyed her emotional side even more.

  “Tonight then.” He pulled her to his chest and kissed her gently. “And, Vero, you’re never dull. Never.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Veronica stepped into the Hall of Music at nine. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, save for the red and yellow lights streaming onto the stage. People talked around her, and there were a lot of people. Hundreds. Was this Diego’s show? She stood on the tips of her toes. Even though she wore two-inch Louis Vuitton, her special shoes, with her black skinny jeans, she couldn’t see through the endless mass.

  Someone bumped her to the side and she scooted closer to the wall so she could scour the place without being pushed around. Normally she avoided a crowded concert, unless Chloe or Amanda talked her into going. Tonight was about Diego.

  Beautiful acoustic guitar music sounded around her, a soft drum beat behind the music, and a deep, sole voice sang out. It definitely was Diego’s show, because there he was singing onstage, front and center, a guitar slung around his shoulders. A solitary light beamed on him and his microphone.

  He looked amazing in tight, dark jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt and two dog tags hanging from his neck—his signature style. She squinted to look closer. A fat leather belt hugged his waist—mmm, what she could do with that belt and Diego.

  The gentle, slow song resonated within her and apparently with the audience, because most of them swayed back and forth, some with hands up singing along. Singing along! Shit, she had Googled him, but seeing him live was another thing all together. It wasn’t just a music career; it was a following. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the back of the hall and ordered her old staple, rum and Coke, from the bartender.

  As she grabbed her bottle, a big palm turned her shoulder. Ah, Marco, wearing dark pants and a tight blue button-up with a skinny navy tie. He was a damn looker, too. Why didn’t Chloe like him? “There you are. The doorman notified me Diego’s girlfriend was here, but I couldn’t find you.”

  “Now you’ve found me.” She rolled her eyes at her goofy line.

  He motioned to the stage area. “There’s a seat behind the curtain for you.”

  Veronica bit her lip as the bartender handed back her change with his eyebrow raised, apparently listening to their conversation.

  “You coming?” Marco grabbed her elbow, leading her in front of him.

  “Uh, yeah.” She pulled her purse up her shoulder and allowed Marco to push her through the crowd.

  Diego put his soul into his song. Such a beautiful sight. His voice ricocheted around the whole room as he belted out a quicker paced song; this time the drums and bass player performed louder. She couldn’t quite make out the words, because she could only stare at Diego—her man—on the stage. And she was his girlfriend? That was what Marco called her.

  Why did that resonate with her? It wasn’t as if she’d never been anyone’s girlfriend before. She just couldn’t believe she ran into a man like Diego—hot, sexy, caring, fun … and now famous—at a virtual stranger’s wedding.

  As if Diego heard her, he found her in the audience. He looked straight at her, with a smile. A hot flame burned in her belly, igniting a fire that had simmered there all day. She stopped in her tracks and waved, then Marco jolted her forward yelling, “This way,” pushing her to a little sitting room practically on the stage but hidden behind a curtain.

  A love seat and two cushioned chairs rested in a makeshift “green room” to the side, offering the perfect view of the band next to them plus the audience in front. The seclusion was awesome—she could relish the moment. Diego enthralled her. Her own private show with Diego only a few feet away, and he was good in every way. Sweat dripped down the sides of his cheek and his lips twitched as he winked at her.

  The song died down. The audience stayed perfectly still, waiting for more.

  “Thank you. What an amazing audience tonight.” He leaned over a little stool next to him, picked up a glass of water, and gulped it down.

  A few claps from here and there; whistles blared, and she couldn’t miss the sighs from some female fans in front. She was flabbergasted. These people were here to see Diego—and the sex god was all hers.

  “So, the next song is one I wrote for a family friend. She asked me to sing at her wedding, and I had to find the perfect song for her. I worked with a few people I love, and this is what we came up with. You’ll find it on my next album. Hope you like it.”

  Living proof that every song he sang had a story. She loved this about him. In front of an audience, he revealed a completely different persona. He was a performer, a storyteller, with every word, movement, breath. Mesmerized, she sat back with a sigh.

  Marco slammed his big body into one of the oversized chairs next to the couch, wakening her from her reverie. “What do ya think?”

  She shook her head and tore her gaze away from her man. “Amazing.”

  “Oh, damn, he’s got you, doesn’t he? It always happens when women hear him sing in person.”

  Veronica blinked and frowned. “How many women?”

  Marco laughed. “Not many. Don’t worry. He has eyes only for you.” He jerked his head in his brother’s direction.

  Diego’s eyes rested on Veronica … not the audience. He smiled and let out the last note of the song, strummed one last chord.

  Veronica held up her fingers and waved.

  Diego ducked behind the curtain to point at his brother. “Take care of her.”

  Marco held out his palms. “Like I wouldn’t.”

  “Not too much care.” He narrowed his eyes before returning to applause. “This song is an oldie but goodie.” He strummed a few chords and whispered into the microphone, “For my special lady.” A few women squealed in the audience and he went into his rendition of “Your Body Is a Wonderland” by John Mayer.

  His
eye contact could be a dangerous thing. So dangerous, but lovely at the same time. Best of all, he conveyed what he wanted to say with his music.

  It made her a sappy kind of happy. She couldn’t take the smile off her face. Marco got up a few times to walk the audience, which had grown tenfold since she arrived. A few women stood in front of the stage, hands up in the air, trying to touch Diego.

  The ugly ripple that tore through her body forced her to wake up from the dream she was living. She wanted him to be her man and her man only. It was all fine and dandy that he had fans, but the touching and screaming made her stomach tighten and fueled a possessive desire to run onstage and announce to the world that he was hers. Was there a cavewoman syndrome?

  And in all reality, could that happen? Could he truly be hers? As his song died, she started to panic. She had to stop lying to herself. She didn’t want this to end. How was she going to tell her mom? Tell him?

  She took a huge gulp of her drink and watched him grab the microphone as the song ended. “You’ve been great.”

  Applause arose.

  “Taking a breather. Be back in fifteen.” He put his guitar to the side and chatted with his band mates.

  Instrumental music sounded overhead as the crowd around the stage dispersed to get drinks and mingle. Diego immediately approached her couch, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap. His lips sought hers and he kissed her deeply, his tongue searching, his hands groping.

  She’d been starving for him. Starving for his touch.

  When he finished his perusal, his head rested on hers. “It’s a goddamned turn-on seeing you watch me.”

  “I should say the same thing.” She nipped his chin and ran her fingers around the nape of his neck. “You’re fantastic. A freakin’ star.”

  His hands squeezed her ass. “You do things to me, without even knowing. Keep watching me, cariño, with those blue eyes, and I’ll take you in between songs.”

  She laughed, her head back, and pulled him to her for one more kiss. His hands in her black, silky top stopped her, and she pulled back. “We’re in your concert hall, Diego. Patience.”

  “Now you’re patient?” He laughed and swatted her butt. “I need something to drink. Want another?”

  “Sure.”

  He slipped away toward the front of the place, sliding the curtain to the side so she could watch his tight ass in the tightest jeans possible. He was a perfect sight.

  Marco sat back down. “What you think?”

  “I think—” I think I’m in love. She bit her lip. She couldn’t admit that, especially to Diego’s brother. “He’s amazing.”

  “Don’t tell him that. It’ll get to his head.”

  Two men from the stage sat down around her, each holding a beer. She recognized one as the groom from the wedding a month ago. Marco introduced them. As the band members talked, Veronica watched Diego meander his way back to her, but it took longer than it should have since people stopped him left and right. Some asked him to autograph memorabilia. Diego always smiled and never put them off. Always a gentleman.

  He finally got closer, but two women stopped him. He eyed Veronica with humor in his eyes, but it quickly went away when one woman reached up and pulled his head to hers to kiss him. Diego held out the two bottles by her side and tried to jerk his head back, but the woman kept his head to hers. She let go and giggled, but Diego’s furious eyes told a different story. Or Veronica hoped it was fury.

  Well, what woman wouldn’t want Diego? Shit. How many women did Diego have to put up with? Or did he put up with them in other ways?

  Her hand patted her throat, unconsciously, and she cleared her throat.

  Marco leaned over and patted her leg. “No worries, Vero. That happens all the time.”

  No worries? What the hell? “All the time?”

  “No, I mean—”

  The other guys laughed at Marco, but it wasn’t funny.

  Diego finally made it to her side and handed her a Cuba Libra. “Sorry about that.”

  “Are you sure?” Veronica couldn’t help herself. The jealousy surged through her quicker than ignited dynamite. She hated it, but what the hell was she supposed to feel? Happy another woman fondled her boyfriend?

  Diego placed his bottle on the table beside them and pulled her back onto his lap, nuzzling her throat. “Baby, I’m absolutely positive. You’re the one I want. Can’t you see that?”

  “Get a room,” Marco groaned.

  Diego picked up a napkin and threw it at his brother.

  “You almost ready, bro?” one of the band mates asked.

  “I’ll be right there.” He held her chin in his fingers and pulled her head so they were face to face. “When you’re around, I come alive.” He tapped his chest. “Right here. My heart feels you, Vero. Don’t forget that.”

  “You and your words.” Veronica gave a tentative smile. He freakin’ brought her a Cuba Libra without even asking if that was what she wanted. He knew what she liked. He knew her, like he said, from the inside out.

  “I mean it, cariño.” He kissed her once more then scooted her off his lap. Stooping down with his arms on the armrest, he studied her face. “Don’t you dare leave. I have plans for us tonight. One more set and we’re out of here.”

  To hell with jealousy. To hell with her mom’s life directives. She wanted Diego for more than a few weeks, more than a month, more than her head told her was possible. Now she just had to figure out how to keep him and make her mother happy at the same time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So what the hell’s going on, little brother?” Marco reached for two sugar packs at the diner table next to them, since their container was empty.

  Diego sipped his coffee, looking over the rim. “What do you mean?”

  “Shit, you and Veronica were all over each other last night.”

  “Have you looked at her?”

  Marco opened his sugar packets and nodded, his lips curling. “Well, yeah. She is damn gorgeous.” He stirred his cup then sat back, his hands folded in front of him on the table. “But tell me this. It’s more than looks, right?”

  “You think I’m that shallow? You know me better than that.” Diego pushed the menu to the side, to rest against the window. Stragglers on the street walked by in winter coats, since it had snowed during the night.

  His brother inched closer. “I do know you, man, and you’re falling for this girl.”

  Diego ran his hand through his hair and looked anywhere but at his brother. Shit. Was he falling so soon? Sure, he wanted to pursue the possibility with Vero. Now he was in deep. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen again. Not since Sofia. “I—” What could he say? He didn’t talk about this kind of crap with his brother, but maybe Marco would be a good sounding board for the emotions rumbling in his gut.

  A smile erupted on Marco’s face. “You love her, hermano. Nothing wrong with that. I’m happy for you.” He stirred his coffee with the mini stirrer.

  “You think so? It’s been a long while.”

  “And that’s exactly why it’s a good thing. Plus, you’re working more, writing those love songs your fans like.”

  “That’s a bonus, I’ll give you that, but there’s more to it. Vero stirs something in me I’ve never felt. Ever.” He sat forward and clasped his palms together. “There’s something about her, a normality, that I need in my life. She’s like a drug, dragging me in—a damn good one that makes me feel good.”

  “And satisfied, no doubt.”

  “Screw you.” He placed his elbows on the table and tapped his fingers to the song on the fifties-style jukebox.

  “She’s told you, right? The L-word?”

  “No, we haven’t said the L-word. What are we? Middle schoolers?”

  Marco pushed his cup to the side. “You haven’t told her about Sofia yet.”

  He wouldn’t look at his twin. They shared DNA, and Marco knew his every thought and emotion. It’d always been that way. Now when one had a
problem, the other knew without squeaking a word. Too many times, Diego had picked up the phone to call Marco to tell him good news, and Marco was already calling. His brother knew him better than anyone.

  Marco shook his head. “Ah, hell. You’ve got to tell her.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been waiting to see where this leads.”

  “Well, it’s leading to the L-word, hermano. So, you better tell her.”

  “I will. I will.” To hell with this touchy-feely shit. This was his decision, ultimately, and he didn’t want to feel any more guilt, from himself or his brother. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Isa comes in two weeks for Thanksgiving. Don’t forget while you make plans—con tu mujer.”

  “I remember our sister’s coming. What’s the plan?”

  “Isa wants to cook the regular family dinner at your place. Says mine’s too small. Don’t know what she means since it’s only us three.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You should tell Veronica about Sofia before then and invite her.”

  “Ya basta. Stop.” Luckily, the waitress appeared to take their orders. He’d tell Veronica when he was good and ready. He knew what he and Vero shared was special—yeah, probably the L-word. And Lord knew he loved Sofia, so he owed the truth to both of them. One way or another, he had to tell Veronica soon.

  • • •

  Veronica stepped inside Café de Phillipe, where her mother waited at a table by the window. Veronica slunk her way through the room, opening her pea coat and loosening her aquamarine scarf. Her mom smiled and Veronica kissed her on the cheek. “Mom, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Her mom patted her shoulder, pulling the sleeve down and straightening her necklace. “Oh, you know, I came in to the city to do a little shopping, and luckily I got a hold of you. I know how busy you get around Thanksgiving, with the parade and all.”

  “I’ll always make time for you.” Veronica placed her purse on the empty chair beside her and drank from the water already in front of her.