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heard a voice whisper in my mind, “Come to me.”
    That might have been my imagination, but I wasn’t about to wait for a second
    invitation. As if in a trance, I made my way to where he stood waiting, that same smile lifting DUET IN BLOOD
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    the corners of his mouth—a mouth I wanted to plant one on before I even got halfway across the barroom floor.
    “Hello.” His voice was low, husky and slightly accented. “My name is Joseph.”
    “Hi, I’m Micah.”
    He held out his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Micah.”
    I took his hand and held it, liking the feel of his cool fingers. “Likewise,” I murmured, feeling slightly entranced by his steady gaze. Was it my imagination or had there been a slight pulse of energy flowing between us as we clasped hands? With some reluctance, I released him from my grip.
    “I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.
    “I…I’ve been out of circulation for some time.”
    “Ah…” He gave me a knowing look. “A painful parting?”
    “You could say that.” I liked the compassion in his beautiful eyes—eyes that were not just grey but more a kind of silver. “Can I get you a drink?” I asked. “Your glass is empty.”
    “Thank you.”
    We walked to the bar. The bartender, seeing us standing side-by-side, practically fell over his own feet as he rushed over. He beamed at us. “Same again, guys?”
    “Please,” Joseph said, smiling at me.
    “Red wine…and a Michelob for you, right?”
    “Right.” I glanced at Joseph. “I think you’ve made a big impression on our friendly bartender.”
    “Really? I thought it was you he’s in a sweat over.”
    “In a sweat? No, it’s definitely you he’s hot for.”
    “What about you?”
    “What about me?”
    “Have I made an impression, big or small, on you, Micah?”
    “Yes,” I found myself saying. “Yes, you have.”
    “Good.” Joseph smiled at the bartender who delivered our drinks. “Thank you, Bob.”
    Bob grinned up at him. “Cheers, guys. These are on the house.”
    “So, you know him,” I remarked after we’d thanked Bob, and he’d turned away to
    serve another customer.
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    “Only from my being here. He’s a friendly soul. He makes me feel welcome, and
    sometimes, when the bar is quiet, we have lively debates.”
    Lively debates. I had a feeling Bob the bartender would have preferred something else lively. “You come here often, then?” I asked.
    “Fairly often. When I’m visiting Los Angeles…”
    “Oh, you don’t live in LA?” I felt a sudden twinge of disappointment.
    “No…but I have business here, at times.”
    “So, where do you call home?”
    Instead of replying, Joseph leaned closer. “You have some foam on your lip.”
    Before I could get my tongue to it, he ran a feather-light touch over my top lip, tracing the outline with his forefinger. The sensation was like an electric tingle. His eyes locked on mine, he inserted his finger into his mouth and slowly, sensually, licked the foam from his finger. I felt myself getting hard.
    “Paris,” Joseph said.
    “Huh?” I stared at him.
    “That’s where I call home. Paris.”
    “Oh, right. Sorry.” I stared at him as if mesmerised. “So you’re French.”
    “German, actually, but I have lived in Paris for some years now.”
    “Paris… I’ve never been there.”
    “It’s beautiful,” Joseph murmured, his eyes still locked on mine. “Would you like to come home with me?”
    “To Paris?” I croaked.
    He chuckled. “No. At least, not tonight. I have a suite at the Plaza.”
    “Oh…” Dummy . “I…I knew that,” I stuttered. “I mean, not the suite at the Plaza…but…uh, that you didn’t mean Paris…uh, tonight…oh, crap.”
    Joseph laughed lightly. “You look most becoming when you blush, Micah.”
    I bet. Becoming? Who uses words like that anymore?
    “You don’t believe me.” He touched my hand. “More than just becoming—adorable.”
    His