Kipling touched her arm. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I have to.”

“We can go somewhere, if you want. Talk. Drive. Yell at trees.”

Because he saw she was in pain. He knew there was a problem, and he wanted to fix it.

“This is the only way,” she whispered. “It doesn’t happen often. Maybe once every couple of years. But when it does, this is all I can do. At least I didn’t have to look very far for a karaoke place. You have one so conveniently located.”

“I do what I can.” The tone was light, but she saw the worry in his eyes.

She picked up the microphone. It was a good weight. Solid in her hand but not too heavy. The lighting could have been better, but this wasn’t a professional performance. She scuffed her boots against the wooden floor, anchoring herself.

Kipling left the stage, and she was alone. Gradually, the room got quiet as people noticed her. She pushed the button to start the first song, drew in a breath and lost herself.

“I left you there, under the willow tree,” she sang. “Tears falling, you always missing me.”

The words came without her having to look at the screen. She’d probably learned the song when she was four or five. She’d sung it on tour with her parents.

Song after song, she worked her way through the playlist. She lost track of time, of how much she drank, of where she was. She gave herself over to the music, letting go in the only way she knew how. The only way that was safe. The knot in her gut relaxed, and the restlessness eased. She spent her whole life denying who and what she was. Every now and then she had no choice but to let that part of her out, and tonight was the night. By the time she was done, she was exhausted but at peace.

She put down the microphone, and the bar exploded with applause. She nodded once and walked to the edge of the stage. Kipling was there to help her down.

“You’re shaking,” he said, putting his arm around her.

“It’s okay,” she told him.

Instead of leading her to the bar, he took her through the back and into a small office. She sank onto the chair by his desk and watched her hands tremble.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked.

“Not since lunch.”

“Liquor on an empty stomach. Never a good idea. Wait here. I’ll go grab you a sandwich.”

She nodded because speaking was suddenly too difficult. When he left, she looked at the clock on the wall and was shocked to see it was after eleven. Had she really been singing for three hours? No wonder she was exhausted.

He returned with a bottle of water and a bowl of popcorn. “I’m closing up soon. The sandwich will only take a couple more minutes. By the time it’s done, the bar will be closed, and you can come out.”

She drank water, then swallowed. “How do you know I want everyone gone?”

“Because you don’t want to talk about what just happened. You don’t want to answer questions.”

She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. He’d guessed the truth, or maybe it wasn’t all that hard to figure out. Either way, he was right. She needed to sing, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to explain.

He left again. She finished the bottle of water, then stood. The room spun a little. She was still feeling a little unsteady on her feet. Not a huge surprise. She’d lost track of how much she’d had to drink.

She made her way to the door and let herself out into the bar.

The open space was bigger when it was empty. There were still glasses on tables. She would guess the place was usually cleaned before closing but that Kipling had hurried everyone along. For her. So she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Because he fixed things that were broken. Like her.

He walked in from the kitchen, a plate in his hand.

“Eat this, then I’ll take you home.”

Which all sounded very sensible. And at any other time she would have followed his suggestion. Just not right now. Not with the bar spinning and her heart racing and need building.

She walked up to him and took the sandwich from him and put it on a nearby table. Then she rested her hands on his shoulders, leaned in and kissed him.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing. She knew she needed to feel his mouth against hers. She needed to get lost in a different way. One without words. She wanted the heat, the tension, all that she had felt the last time he’d kissed her. Only now, she wanted more than that.

The second his lips touched hers, she parted. He obligingly brushed his tongue against hers. Desire raced through her, igniting sparks all over. She strained to get closer as she realized that the singing hadn’t been quite enough. She needed more. She needed him.

She moved her hands down his arms, then to his back. He was lean yet strong. She explored the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his spine. He kissed her more deeply, teasing her tongue with his. She leaned into him, letting her body melt. Thighs brushed. Her breasts nestled into his chest.

She felt everything. The way he kissed along her jaw and licked the sensitive skin below her ear. The warmth of his breath. The whisper of his fingers against the fabric of her shirt. She didn’t know why her senses seemed enhanced, but they were. Maybe it was the Long Island Iced Tea. Maybe it was the man. Either way, she wanted everything he had to offer.

She reached for his wrists and drew his hands to her breasts. His thumbs touched her nipples, and she groaned.

* * *

KIPLING TOLD HIMSELF to slow down. There was no way he was going to do this with Destiny in a bar. While he had every intention of making love with her, their first time was going to be slow. Planned. Romantic. He wanted to make it good for her maybe two or three times before giving in himself. He had a plan.