Page 36 of The Beat Match

“Back to the nickname,” Wes said, ignoring the rabbit in the room. “What does that have to do with your DJ interest?”

She stayed facing Felix. It was easier talking to him. “When you call me Squirrel it reminds me you think I’m flighty and incompetent and never stick with anything worthwhile. I’ve always known I’d figure out my life eventually, and when I decided this was what I wanted to do, I didn’t want your judgment to discourage me.”

She’d never admitted that much to Wes, too worried about hurting him or their friendship. Even now, her pulse quickened, picking up speed until she felt shaky squatting next to the cage. She stood, straightened her dress, and faced him.

Wes’s cheeks were slack, his brow crumpled. He stared at his glass as though crestfallen. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.

Weston Aldrich didn’t do heartfelt apologies. He ran a multi-billion dollar company with single-minded precision. He was a planner who’d led a secret life for years, never buckling, never showing weakness.

Abruptly, he pushed back his chair and stalked over to her. He gripped her upper arms. “You are smart, Annie. And creative and funny and talented. You’re unbelievably capable, and I only ever wanted you to reach your potential. Consider that nickname banished.”

His genuine distress weakened her limbs. Or maybe it was their proximity. The shoulders of her dress slipped lower, and his fingers bit into her bare skin.

He’d taken her to the Hamptons last summer. A work function which had included families and friends. Initially, she’d said no, always feeling like his charity case. He’d insisted she come. In the end, she’d loved the hot sun on her skin, how it had warmed her bones. She had loved watching Wes laugh with coworkers and then smile at her. He’d dragged her into the water, the two of them messing around and splashing each other until Weston was all she could see. She’d forgotten how in tune she’d been to him that day.

The same sensations assaulted her now.

She dragged her gaze up, past the chest hair peeking out of his open collar, the masculine knot of his Adam’s apple, all the way to those scrapbook lips. She licked her lips, trying to remember how Wes had tasted after they’d been sweaty and dancing. She met his eyes and sucked in a rough breath. His pupils had dilated, darkened, eclipsing all that complex blue.

He released her with a jerk of his hands, turned around, and dropped his head forward. His shoulders were hitched high, the tightness of his shirt hinting at coiled frustration below. She wanted to go to him, knead those tense muscles, finally ask him if the merger was tough on him and find out how she could help. She wanted to kiss the sensitive spot at the back of his neck and wrap him in her arms, tell him his apology meant more than he could know.

Kissing him had meant more than she’d realized.

All their years together—the frustrating and funny, the good and the bad—had bound them irrevocably, but this relationship was the cornerstone of her life, and it was shifting. Quickly. The prospect suddenly terrified her. And he had a girlfriend.

Best to steer them in a safer direction. For now. Focus on their joint love of music and the fact that she was going to be his apprentice.

* * *

“Take me to your Falcon Cave,” Annie said from behind him.

Weston continued counting his breaths, slowing his pulse. Being this close to Annie was testing his willpower, and he was furious with himself for letting her down. That stupid nickname had been a joke. Her defensive comebacks had been amusing. She’d jab at him with her usual wit. Tease him for being uptight and controlling and a general pain in her ass. More proof jokes were rooted in truth.

He had thought she’d been wasting her talents. He’d wanted her to be successful, self-reliant. If she’d told him about the DJing, he would have tried to steer her toward a steady job with a decent income and good benefits. A career with a future. For all the “nurturing” he’d done, he’d only managed to undermine her confidence.

There wasn’t much he could do about the past. About Leo, any of it. But he could change the present. Make sure Annie knew how capable she was. As long as he did it from a distance.

Their drinks abandoned on his table, Weston led Annie down a side hallway, to the locked door at the end.

She hung back a few steps. “I thought this room held old financial records.”

He inserted his key, glanced over his shoulder. “I lied.”

“Shocker,” she mumbled. “At least tell me you have a Falcon suit loaded with cool weapons developed in Aldrich Pharma’s secret laboratory. And if there’s one of those gadgets that shoots a wire between buildings so I can slide from skyscraper to skyscraper, consider it stolen.”

“There’s no suit or gadgets, Sq…Annie.” Old habits died hard. “It’s a boring sound room with DJ equipment.” Except nothing about the space was boring to Weston. He’d never imagined sharing the space with anyone. The people he knew would find the equipment tedious, the soundproofed walls oppressive, and he was suddenly nervous about Annie seeing his sanctuary.

He opened the door and switched on the light. Annie gasped.

A breath later, she faced him. “Why didn’t you tell me about the DJing?” Her hesitant voice sounded small. Pained.

He always managed to hurt her, no matter his intentions. “A bunch of reasons.”

She waited, checked her watch, dug her finger into her ear as though clearing it.

He laughed. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you want the reasons?”

“I wasn’t going for subtle.”