Her eyelids grew heavy, and that spicy, woodsy Connor scent—which she’d never forgotten and still smelledso good—filled her lungs. She leaned her face against his, andwhat was she doing?
“Are you trying to seduce me?” she murmured, and her words came out so low she could barely perceive them.
“Absolutely not.” His voice was equally as quiet. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
He turned his head so that his lips were nearly touching her earlobe. “For you to tell me your idea.”
It was a stupid thing to do, but she relaxed further, her body melting and molding against his as if nothing had changed and nothing ever would. “His house.”
“What about his house?”
“I asked him to think of the place where he’s most comfortable playing.” Connor still held her hand against his chest, and her fingers interlaced with his on their own accord. “He said it was his house.”
“So what’s the idea?”
As he spoke, his bottom lip grazed her earlobe for the briefest of seconds, but it was long enough to threaten to dissolve her into a puddle at his feet.
This was exactly whyshe had fallen for him so hard and so fast all those years ago.
She was powerless.
And he was dangerous.
“I think you should suggest letting him record there.”
The music may as well have screeched to a halt because Connor pulled his face backward to look at her with a contorted, incredulous expression. “That’s a terrible idea.”
Relief flooded her even though he clearly hated her suggestion. The change in both of their postures was so stark it was as if someone had dumped a much-needed bucket of cold water over their heads.
“I know why you think that, and I don’t disagree with you, but just consider it for a second.” Liza broke their embrace as she took a step back to lean against the table with all the switches and knobs on it. “Think of everything he’s endured in that house.”
Connor shoved his hands in his pockets and lifted his shoulders. “I am. That’s why I think it’s a terrible idea.”
“Okay, but Connor, if that’s the place he feels most comfortable playingandthe place where his absolute best and absolute worst experiences took place, can’t you see how powerful that could make this album?”
He uttered a deep groan in the back of his throat as he began pacing the floor, rubbing his chin while he stared at his feet. “It’s just such a toxic environment in every way imaginable, Liza. I don’t think any of us have any business being there, especially not to try to record an album.”
Liza flipped her palms at him. “Connor. Helives there. He doesn’t have the luxury of deeming it too toxic an environment to be in.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Kinda sounds like you’re making this about you and not what’s best for him.”
He snapped his chin up and gave her a piercing look. “Okay, fine. Did you ask Oscar whathethought about doing this? Or did you just come straight to me?”
She pursed her lips and lifted one eyebrow, unable to resist the urge to throw a little innuendo at him—especially after he felt the need to basically reenact the night they met. “Icame.”
Connor stopped pacing, his eyebrows climbing high on his forehead. She smiled and let one shoulder lift and drop before swaying slightly from side to side. After a beat, he turned and walked to the door, swinging it wide open.
Liza’s shoulders sank in defeat for all of one second before he marched back across the room, stopped just a breath from her face, and placed his hands on her waist.
“I hope you realize that I’m fully aware of how much of an idiot I am, Liza.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.” She brushed an imaginary hair off his shoulder. “Clean slate. New beginning. So on. So forth.” She clasped her hands behind her back, tilted her head, and smiled. “This time around we get to be friends. I think that’s nice.”
He offered a subtle nod. “It is nice.”
With that, Connor turned on the ball of his foot and marched toward the door, pausing to look back at her for a second before he strode through it. “I’ll go talk to Oscar. If he likes it, I’ll talk to Jimmy. It’s a solid idea. Nice work.”
12
