She closed her eyes as the beat picked up. Then she wrapped her hands around the old-fashioned microphone, opened her red lips and let out the sound that so many of the regulars came for. Her voice was as deep and soft as the velvet dress she wore. It flowed out of her like honey, dripping with emotion and intensity.
Hannah got lost when she sang. She let the words fill her heart and the music fill her soul, drifting in and out of thought as all the greats before her had done. She brought herself to the stage but left with Dianna Krall, Billie Holiday and the other female icons of jazz. She finished the first song and opened her eyes, smiling gracefully. She scanned the dark room and saw the familiar faces of some of her regulars, and a few faces she didn’t recognize.
She sang several more sultry jazz standards, all while trying to put the fear of cutbacks out of her mind. She let the music fill her up and ease her anxiety. The usual hum of chatter from the audience floated around Hannah’s feet and she smiled, knowing that the audience was now also at ease.
During her closing song—one of her favorites, ‘Come Away with Me’, by Norah Jones—Hannah opened her eyes and surveyed the room. She saw Chloe at the back, getting into the groove, along with several other people swaying back and forth. Her gaze swept across the audience, stopping when she saw the man in the shadows in the back. He was sitting perfectly still at his table, staring intently at her, as though she were the only woman in the room.
Hannah looked away, unnerved by his intensity. But she felt drawn to him and her eyes returned to his. She watched as he stared at her, her mouth moving slowly to the lyrics of the song. She felt her face start to redden and a shiver ran up her spine as their eyes locked for a moment. When the song was over, she bowed slightly, smiled and walked off the stage, still unsure of what had just happened.
TWO
Concealed from the still-cheering audience behind the heavy black curtain, Hannah caught her breath as she tried to think. Did she know that man? She tried to place his face. He might have been in the audience before, but she didn’t think so. Perhaps she had catered an event he was at. Yeah, she thought, feeling herself exhale with relief. That must be it. She peeked around the edge of the curtain to get another glimpse. But when she looked back at his table, he was gone.
She walked down the dim hallway and toward the dressing room, which had also lost all its glamour from years before. She was about to go in when she heard a man’s voice speak from the dark.
“That was wonderful,” the voice said.
Hannah was used to getting compliments from the guests, but they weren’t supposed to be allowed backstage. She felt her heart race heavily in her chest and hoped this guy wasn’t some crazed stalker. Where was Randy, the bodyguard, she wondered. It was his job to keep creeps away from the talent.
She put on her best fake smile and turned to face the stranger, one hand on the door handle of her dressing room, ready to make a quick escape.
“Thank you…” the words fell out of her mouth as her eyes locked with the stranger from the back of the room. Hannah felt the blush rise in her cheeks again. The tall, well-built man was incredibly good-looking, with dark olive skin, black hair and the thickest eyelashes she had ever seen.
He smiled at her reaction and took a slow step toward her. Hannah kept her eyes locked on his, unable to look away. What was wrong with her? Was she under some sort of spell? She shook her head and laughed a little, trying to ease the awkwardness she felt.
“I’ve heard a lot of jazz singers in my time,” said the stranger, standing just feet away from Hannah in the dim hallway. “But you are by far the most, how shall I put it?” He stroked his chiseled chin with his hand. “The most sensual.”
Hannah felt a shiver run up her spine. Sensual? There was a word people didn’t usually use to describe her. Okay, maybe. Average. Good. Sometimes people even said she was great. But sensual? That was probably one of the best compliments she had ever received. What better way to describe the smooth, sultry sound of great jazz?
“Well,” she said, gaining a little more confidence. “Thank you, again. But, I really don’t think you’re supposed to be back here.”
Why did she say that? Hannah hadn’t been on a date in— she couldn’t remember how long. She didn’t count Harvey as a date—he had been her boyfriend, and a lousy one at that. Even when they’d been together, he hadn’t taken her on any real dates apart from a couple right at the beginning. She let her mind wander and imagined what it would be like to go on a date with this guy.
The stranger smiled slyly, sending another shiver up Hannah’s spine. Darn. His smile was incredibly sexy. Maybe she should let him stay back here for a while. Or invite him into the dressing room, she thought.
“Actually,” he said, his face becoming more serious. “I came back here because I would like to make you an offer.” As he spoke, Hannah picked up the sound of a slight accent.
Images of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman ran through Hannah’s mind. This guy obviously had money. Hannah could tell by his expensive suit, his shining Rolex and the casualness with which he wore them. You want me to go home with you? You want me to sing for you privately? You want me to marry you? The thoughts were ridiculous, she knew. But a girl could dream.
She let them go and then looked at him with curiosity. “An offer?”
“Yes. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sadiq.”
He held out his hand and Hannah shook it lightly. What is that accent? thought Hannah, unable to place it.
“I would like to hire you for a series of performances.”
Hannah eyed him suspiciously.
“Singing performances,” he said, almost reading her mind.
Hannah stood more at ease, glad that they were both on the same page. “Go on,” she said.