Chapter 64
64
CONOR
L ess than a week later, Conor, still restless, made another trip. This time, it was to New York City, with the goal of seeing Colette. They’d spoken once and texted a lot since their time in London, and though she tried to play coy and keep up the pretense of them just being “friends,” he thought she’d welcome his visit.
She lived in a brownstone on Barrow Street where just enough sunlight filtered through trees to warm the back of his neck as he waited on the stoop for an answer to his knock.
She couldn’t conceal her delight when she finally opened the door. Wearing distressed cut-off jeans and a plain white tank top with several contrasting bead necklaces, she was a casual, but striking beauty.
“Conor! Are you’re really here?” she asked with a laugh.
“Happy to see me?”
“I am, but you should have warned me. I have plans in a little while.”
It was the risk he took, he realized. He’d gone as far as having someone in the Rogue organization track down her home address and contact her modeling agency to see if she was out on a booking before showing up here. But he knew that didn’t guarantee she’d be available. Though he wasn’t usually someone who settled, right now, he’d take what he could get. That meant starting this visit off right.
She was looking at him expectantly, so he dropped the small canvas weekend bag he had brought, wrapped his arm around her slim waist, pulled her body to his and kissed her deeply. In return, she grabbed his backside and pressed her chest to his. This was going exactly as he had envisioned during the taxi ride over.
“We’d better go in,” she said after they traded several more increasingly passionate kisses.
Inside, she led him straight to her bedroom but he got a quick glance around on the way. It was enough to see that it was sparsely furnished. Artwork leaned unhung at the base of the white walls, a testament to the nomadic lifestyle she led as an up-and-coming model.
The bedroom was just as spare, but they had all they needed.
“I can’t believe you’re tossing me out,” Conor said with a bemused smile.
He was sitting on Colette’s sofa, watching as she transferred the contents of one purse into another that would better match the short black floral-patterned dress she wore with black suede high-heeled boots that came up to her knees. She had given him an hour of electric lovemaking before looking at the clock and telling him she had to go meet her friend for shopping. It was quite a change to have a woman use him for sex without wanting anything more.
“Oh, come on, Conor. I told you I had plans this afternoon,” she said distractedly.
“Can’t you cancel? I mean, I’m just here from Ireland, for fuck’s sake.”
“But I didn’t ask you to come. You planned this all by yourself,” she said.
“Colette, I didn’t plan anything. I’m here to see Shay.”
That wasn’t exactly true. But the fact that Shay was in town working on a movie soundtrack was a neat excuse he could leverage. It wouldn’t do for him to seem too eager.
“So go see him. I really have to get going now.”
Conor glanced down at the coffee table where there was a Cosmopolitan magazine with Sophie on the cover. Without thinking, he picked it up and studied the sexy photo. She wore a low-cut red dress and her hair was down and full of body as an unseen fan blew it back. Her hazel eyes were focused on the camera, conveying a compelling mixture of playfulness and sensuality. He was reminded of all the times he had stared into those eyes, desiring her body and soul. She had long ago become the ideal woman in his mind. Perfect … and unattainable.
“Well?”
The sound of Colette’s impatient voice pulled him from his brief reverie. “Hmm?”
“You’re going to make me late. Time to go.”
Standing, he said, “You’re a cool one, aren’t you?”
“What? Are you in love with me or something, Connie?” she asked.
Conor met her eyes and said flatly, “No.” He paused. “And don’t call me ‘Connie.’ I fucking hate it.”
“Okay, fine. Look, we have fun together. Just now, that was fun, right?” she asked, but didn’t wait for him to respond. “But that’s all it was. So, I have to go now because I have a date.”
“Oh, it’s a date, is it?”
“So what if it is?”
He was being sucked into her games. Pursuing a woman was fun, a challenge. But this was something different, this was pure game playing for its own sake. She had slept with him knowing full well she was shortly to meet with another man, and that didn’t sit well with him.
“Never mind,” he said with a sigh. “You’re right. It was a good time. I’ll be going.”
She met his eyes for a moment before dropping her gaze to the magazine he still held in one hand. She took it from him and looked at the cover of Sophie.
“Who is the unavailable woman you’re in love with?” she asked.
“What? What has that to do with anything?”
“I … I don’t know at this point.”
“Right. Because we’re just friends, yeah? What does anyone else matter, anyway?”
She tossed the magazine face down on the coffee table and put on a determined smile. Placing her arms around his neck, she kissed him long and sweetly on the mouth.
“Call me tomorrow,” she said softly.
Left to his own devices for the rest of the day, Conor realized he really should get in touch with Shay since they were in the same city. His friend sounded stressed and hurriedly gave Conor directions to the recording studio where he was working.
It was something of a surprise for Conor to walk into the studio and see Shay in such a position of authority as he gave orders to the sound engineers at the mixing board.
“Aye, Shay,” Conor said. “Aren’t you the man?”
Shay was startled by the intrusion but quickly smiled. “Good to see a friendly face, mate,” he said.
“I thought you were almost done with this project.” Conor put down his bag and took the chair beside Shay, leaning back and stretching.
“There are a few things I’m still working on. There’s a bit where I’d love to have some acoustic guitar but I can’t seem to communicate to the session musicians exactly what it is I want.”
“You want me to play with it?”
“You’re a lifesaver!” Shay said.
Conor watched as Shay got up and retrieved a guitar. Though he was energized by the work he was doing, Conor could tell that Shay was exhausted underneath it all. His perfectionist tendencies had clearly left him with little sleep.
“Jesus, man, you need to get laid,” Conor told him.
“Don’t I know it,” he replied with a laugh.
Working together, Conor and Shay composed a delicate, Spanish-infused acoustic guitar melody that was perfect for the love scene in the movie. It was after nine that evening when they stepped out of the studio and thought about food and relaxation.
And it wasn’t until they were seated in a nearby sushi restaurant that Shay thought to ask what Conor was doing in New York.
“Thought you’d get curious at some point,” Conor said with a laugh.
“You can see how wrapped up in this project I’ve been.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The waitress appeared then and lingered at their table as she poured Ichiban beer from large bottles into frosty glasses.
“How are you today, then?” Conor asked her.
She was petite, with a mixture of African American and Asian heritage. Her hair was slicked back, showcasing beautiful light brown skin and ebony eyes. Her form fitting, high-collared black dress was long but had a dramatic slit up both sides to reveal smooth, shapely legs.
“Good, thanks. Can I make any recommendations?” she asked, clearly not recognizing them.
“Sure. What’s the best way for my friend here to get to take you out for a drink later tonight?” Conor asked casually.
The waitress glanced at Shay, saw his embarrassment and smiled. “He could ask himself,” she replied. “I’ll give you a minute with the menu and be right back.”
“Conor Quinn, you bastard,” Shay said mildly.
“Well, she’s a good-looking girl. Why not?”
“What about you, then?”
“Me? Me, I’m in trouble. I’ve only got one girl on my mind these days and that’s why I’m here in New York.”
“The model you were in all the papers with?”
“That’d be the one.”
“Rock stars and models—what a fucking cliché.”
They laughed and then made a toast to the lovely absurdity of it.