Aria Read Online Free PDF Page A

left hand.
“Alexandria’s husband’s company is one of the benefactors of the Bizet series,” Aiden interjected, as if that explained everything about the woman. Sam wasn’t so sure he wanted to understand the situation beyond that. The way Alexandria hung on Aiden, she looked like far more than simply a benefactor.
“And what do you do for a living, Sam?” Alexandria took her appreciative measure of him. Something about the way she assessed him made Sam ill at ease.
“I’m an attorney.”
“Really? What kind of law?”
“Employment law.” Simple, to the point, and more information than he felt comfortable revealing at that moment.
“How fascinating.” Alexandria’s tone made it clear the topic bored her to no end.
Sam looked around for a way to extricate himself from the conversation. As if on cue, the guests gathered around the piano applauded once more. “Thanks,” Jules told the guests as a blush rose on his pale cheeks. “Maybe we’ll play some more later.”
“That’s my cue,” Sam said, improvising. “I promised Jules I’d help him with the desserts.”
“Sam, I—” Aiden began, but Alexandria interrupted again.
“I’m starving. Shall we get some food?”
Sam shot them both an awkward and apologetic smile. “I better go.” He made a beeline for the kitchen, past a group of guests.
Once safely inside the kitchen, he leaned against the counter and took a deep breath.
Oh, that went just swimmingly! Nearly as well as how he’d handled things in New York five years before.
Chapter 5
     
New York, New York
Five years before
    T
HE SoHo bar was crowded when Sam arrived a few minutes after eight o’clock. Some of his friends had recommended the place to him, but he had never been inside. Typical of many establishments in the area, the walls were stripped bare of years of paint. Modern canvasses in various sizes and shapes broke the monotony of the ancient brick. Italian track lighting hung from the drop ceiling illuminated the artwork and the tables. Sam could make out the strains of classic jazz over the low drone of conversation. The smells of alcohol, aftershave, and musk hung in the air.
    Sam realized his hand rested on his briefcase. He thought briefly of the metal cookie tin inside, which inevitably made him think of Nick. He and Nick first met in a bar, but Sam had never liked them much. As a couple, they had mostly socialized with friends, alternating hosting get-togethers at their loft apartment and spending weekends upstate in small B and Bs.
    Sam felt overwhelmed as he sat down at the end of the bar and ordered a drink. He reminded himself that he was just here for the alcohol, but the Manhattan gay scene loomed frighteningly on the horizon, and he was woefully unprepared. Even now, a year after Nick’s death, he wasn’t ready, though he’d already received several appreciative looks in the few minutes since his arrival. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for it again—it had been intimidating enough the first time around.
    “Vodka tonic,” he told the bartender. Tonight he needed something stronger than his usual beer. Running a hand through his hair, he took a look around the bar for the first time. There was no dance floor, so the action was subtler. Men filled nearly every seat at the long bar, chatting in undertones over drinks. He fought the urge to leave. When the bartender placed a drink in front of him, he thanked the man and took a long, desperate swallow. The comforting effect of the alcohol began to kick in.
    What are you doing here?
The man seated to his left got up and threw a twenty down on the bar, then waved to the bartender and the other men at the counter. Sam finished his drink in one long swallow and looked up again, this time into a pair of warm brown eyes framed by long lashes. The newcomer smiled affably at him. Sam managed to return the smile before quickly looking back down at his empty glass.
This was a mistake. He pulled his wallet out of his