LUKA (The Rhythm Series, Book 2) by Jane Harvey-Berrick Read Free Book Online

let out the breath I’d been holding and laughed. “Nope. I don’t do voyeurism.”
    “Oh, thank God for that,” he muttered.
    “Are we still having dinner?”
    “Yes,” he said emphatically. “We’re still having dinner.”

THE ITALIAN DINER was just as he’d described. We were given a tiny booth in the basement, down a narrow staircase with dim lighting, but the food was incredible, even if the house wine was rough.
    Seth drank most of the bottle. I’d been drunk the last two nights and didn’t want a repeat performance. Two lots of drunken sex that I could hardly remember was enough for any man.
    “You weren’t joking about the bi thing by any chance, were you?” he asked after his fourth glass, while I sipped an espresso.
    “No.”
    He rubbed his hands over his face.
    “So I have to be jealous of everyone?”
    I smiled. “Only if they’re over 18 and under 80.”
    He cringed. “Don’t! That includes my mother and my sister. Oh God! And the vicar!”
    He rested his head on the table.
    “Yeah,” I said teasingly, “but I’m here with you.”
    “Are you?” he asked sharply, looking up. “Because I’m having a hard time getting my head around why a guy like you would go on a date with me?”
    “A guy like me?”
    “God! You must know, Luka! You’re just so fucking hot!” he said, more loudly than was necessary.
    The woman at the next table giggled, although her boyfriend didn’t.
    Seth leaned across the table and caught my hand.
    “Will you come with me to the club I go to so I can show you off? Otherwise no one will believe I could score a guy like you.”
    I pulled my hand free and scowled at him.
    “I’m not a fucking trophy.”
    His eyes widened and he flinched.
    “I’m sorry, I know you’re not. That was crass. I didn’t mean it like that. We can do whatever you want.”
    We sat in silence while I considered getting up and walking out. He’d touched a nerve, although he didn’t know it. When I was 22, I’d dated Astrid. She was older than me, and I’d thought it was love, but it turned out she just liked having a good-looking younger guy on her arm. She certainly hadn’t cared about my fucking feelings.
    Seth laid his hand next to mine, not quite touching.
    “I really am sorry.”
    “It’s fine,” I said stiffly. “We can go to this club.”
    He hesitated. “Okay, then.”
    He stood up to pay the bill, which was less than the price of one entrée at the Ivy, and I followed him outside.
    I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it. As an afterthought, I offered one to Seth, but he shook his head.
    “I haven’t seen you smoke before.”
    I didn’t smoke often—usually when I was stressed; sometimes after sex. So I didn’t reply.
    As we walked through Soho, I saw the theater where Les Misérables was showing. I’d been meaning to see that show again.
    “Do you like going to the theater?” Seth asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “Me, too. Maybe we could go and see something together?”
    “Maybe.”
    He sighed and we continued to walk along in silence until we reached the club.
    The entrance was discreet, between two miniature bay trees in silver pots, and next to a Nepalese restaurant.
    Seth greeted the doorman by name, before following the steps downward.
    The light dimmed and I could hear the bass of a dance track, although I couldn’t make out the music.
    “They’ve got a dance area and a chilling area where we can talk,” Seth explained. “Which would you prefer?”
    “Either is fine.”
    Frowning slightly, he led us into a large room with a low ceiling and red leather sofas scattered around small tables.
    I settled into the soft leather and Seth sat next to me, leaving a wide gap between us. A waiter arrived immediately.
    “Hi, Ryan!” said Seth, forcing a smile. “How are you?”
    “I’m good, thanks, Seth. What can I get for you and your friend?”
    I ordered a beer and Seth asked for a single malt.
    “I never asked what you do?” Seth said as the