My laugh was tight with embarrassment. “I almost asked you today if you wanted to work out together sometime.”
“Totally. I’m always looking for new clients.” He said it laced with innuendo. “I could even give you a discount.”
Was I blushing right now? At least he wouldn’t be able to tell. His effect on me was powerful, and I sucked in a preparing breath. “Hey, listen. Since we’re going to be working together, we need to talk boundaries.”
The single word from him made it impossible to tell how he felt about my statement. “Yeah?”
“Is it stupid to think we can keep business separate from what we did today?”
His answer came quick. “No, it’s not stupid.” He paused, likely composing what to say next. “Boundaries. What did you have in mind?”
I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t dated anyone in forever—not that what we were doing was dating anyway—but I was horribly out of practice. He had far more experience than I did in this department. That imbalance left me unsure, but there was a bigger issue at work too. “No one can know. If word got out I was sleeping with a client, it could be bad for my career.”
“Erika,” he said, his voice deadly serious, “I’m not going to say anything. You can trust me.”
It felt as if my heart were made of rubber bands, and his words stretched the outer band until it was taut. If he let go, it’d snap back with a sharp, stinging pain. All the trust I’d poured into my marriage had been rewarded with heartache.
“Okay,” I said quickly, trying to gloss over my anxiety. “But just to be safe, can we keep it professional anytime we’re not alone? Or talking business?”
He paused for so long, I wasn’t sure if we’d been disconnected, but then his tone was rich, telling me he was smiling on the other end. “Are you telling me not to flirt with you?”
I tried to be practical. “I need to deal with Troy ‘the artist’ right now, not Troy ‘the guy I’m banging.’”
His laugh was loud. “Banging,” he repeated. “Okay, okay.” He settled, and his sigh was colored with amusement. “I get it. When you want it strictly business, you let me know and I’ll give you that.”
“Good,” I said, feeling a sliver of relief. “I need it business tonight because we’re behind where we should be. The audition is in a week.”
“Oh.” He’d said it the same way I expected he said ‘oh, shit.’
“Yeah. I’d like to schedule you for as many performances as we can before then. Get you as comfortable as possible with your material in front of a crowd.” There was nothing like the pressure of an audition, but I’d do my best to prepare him. “We can talk specifics about that tomorrow. Can you come in at eight?”
To the rest of the artists I dealt with, eight in the morning was an unheard of time. Ungodly early for the people who were up late every night. But Troy didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, sure.”
We talked a bit more about how the audition would be handled and the web series Stella was planning to run, and true to his word, he never slipped out of professional mode. We didn’t talk about the crazy hot sex we’d had, or when it was going to happen again, or whether he was currently having crazy hot sex with anyone else.
Just the idea of that soured my stomach. After we said goodbye and I’d hung up, that was the thing that needled at me. What if I asked him if he was seeing anyone else, and he said yes?
Would I be able to believe him if he said no? He hadn’t done anything to make me distrust him, but I was plenty aware at how good he was at keeping secrets.
I focused elsewhere. Tomorrow he’d come into the studio, record a sample, and Ardy would help evaluate. Then I’d know for certain the talent I’d seen in Troy was real, and not clouded by my personal feelings.
As predicted, my pool boy and personal sex toy had left me blissfully sore. I gingerly slid under the sheets, tired but sexually satisfied for once, turned out the light, and laid my head down on the pillow.
I’d only just shut my eyes when the melody echoed in my mind. It was only a few notes, barely two measures, but I blinked in surprise. And as I stared into the darkness of the room, the melodic line fleshed itself out and took further shape. I heard it as plain as day, the up-tempo music with a sexy, playful vibe.
Like Troy in the form of music.
I bolted upright in the bed, reaching blindly for the lamp switch, and blinked rapidly against the overly bright light as I clicked it back on. I was breathing hard, but sat utterly motionless, worried if I moved, the music would flit away like a scared bird.