Summer Love_ A Steamy Small Town Romance Anthology - Piper Rayne Page 0,197

to use. Nonetheless, he would put her rendition up against anyone’s.

The light in the shop had dwindled to almost nothing. He could barely make out her slender form leaning against the countertop.

“What would you have suggested?”

He might have been imagining it, but he could swear her voice just dropped into a lower register. There was something so erotic about listening to her voice in the dark.

“There’s no shortage of well-written breakup songs.” He broke into a medley of as many as he could think of off the top of his head. When he stopped, he sensed—more than heard—her soft chuckle.

“Did you really go back the next night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you—I wanted to hear you sing again. And I thought I might be able to talk you into going back to my hotel room.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

“In my line of work, it helps to be.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, listening as the rain battered the roof and front window. Then, to his surprise, she began to sing the rather famous song by the rather famous British band. He closed his eyes to the dark shapes of the coffee shop and let the sound of her voice fall around him. In his mind, he could still picture her in the bar that night. Her slim black pants. Her fuzzy red sweater. The ivory silk scarf tied loosely around her neck. The sensible flat oxfords on her feet.

He wanted to just listen to her voice for hours. Long, long hours. For a moment, he hated the good people of St. Caroline for having the privilege of hearing Mai with an I sing the national anthem. He let her get halfway through the song before joining in. After, they sang another song by the famous British band. And then another. And another.

Then there was a loud crash outside, and the song came to a screeching halt. He watched as she ran to the front window, feinting right and left around the tables—just as he had watched her bounce around his hotel suite, picking up her clothes, her purse, her coat, before running out the door.

Chapter Four

“I can’t see a damn thing.” She cupped her hands and peered into the swirl of wind and water. “I think your car is fine, though.”

“It’s a rental.”

She felt the warmth of his body directly behind hers. The warmth of his mostly nude body. How long had it been since she’d felt the warmth of a man’s body against hers?

A while.

They could finish what they had started in London. She got the distinct impression that he was amenable to it. In the morning, he would leave, and that would be that. He might come in a few more times for coffee, since Simone had recommended Two Beans, but then Simone and Douglas would come home from their honeymoon and he’d be gone. He would leave St. Caroline, never to be seen in these parts again. Would it really be that bad to finish what they’d started?

His hands settled on her shoulders, firm, confident. Those hands had played a thousand songs on guitars, on keyboards. Those hands had played her body, too, until she’d stopped him. It would have been an amazing night. She had no doubt of that. But it wasn’t what she had wanted at the time. She didn’t want to be just one of the many women he had bedded. Just as she had never wanted to be one of the endless numbers of aspiring singers in the world. There was this assumption that if you were in possession of a talent, you were supposed to monetize that talent.

But fame and fortune had never appealed to her. She had her issues with her parents—didn’t everyone?—but ultimately she wanted the life they had. She wanted a business and a source of income that she had control over. She wanted a family of her own and a nice house to raise that family in.

It was something people didn’t seem to understand—that she could sing like an angel, but want to run a coffee shop instead.

She wanted one more thing, as well—a man who would love her. A man who would love her and was willing to live in St. Caroline where her beloved coffee shop was located.

“So did you ever get back together with your boyfriend?”

And … that was his opening gambit.

“No. I didn’t. Not after that.”

“Are you the sort of person who doesn’t dole out second chances?”

She shrugged her shoulders beneath his hands. “Depends on the