Eyes On Him Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Eyes on Him

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  Eyes on Him © Felix Brooks & Riley Knight 2017.

  Cover design by Ravishing Romance Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

  First LoveLight Press electronic publication: July 2017

  http://lovelightpress.com

  Eyes on Him is set in the California and as such uses American English throughout.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Julian

  Another night, another show. Another performance of music that Julian hadn’t had anything to do with making. Another bar full of people barely listening to him, more interested in getting drunk than in jazz.

  Julian sat in front of the mirror and gazed at himself. Behind him, the area bustled with activity, with servers, employees, and other musicians who would be going on after him. There were no such things as private rooms, not in this crappy little jazz club.

  Julian sighed, and the image of himself reflected in the mirror sighed back. The man reflected there was handsome enough, he supposed, but looked too innocent. But it was just him there. Just him, glum and unsatisfied and ungrateful and so very alone, despite all of the people around him.

  “Julian, please. The rest of us want to use the mirror, too,” a female voice complained. He turned to meet the eyes of a stunning black woman who had really had no choice but to go into jazz, not when her parents had actually named her Ella. Not that her voice really sounded much like the legendary Ms. Fitzgerald, but still.

  “Sorry,” Julian apologized, then used his one last glance in the mirror to put a smile on his face. He was up soon, and he did his best to banish the sadness from his lips, at least, even if he couldn’t quite push it out of his eyes.

  What did it matter? The lights would be bright onstage, and no one would be close enough to see.

  Besides, he had no right to be sad. Not when he was making a living, however meager, doing the one thing that he’d always loved more than anything else. Singing. Not everyone could claim the same, and he knew, damn it, he really did, just how fortunate he really was to have found this job at all.

  “Break a leg, sugar,” Ella said helpfully, and Julian shook his head, amused. Ella had a way of cheering him up, and she was definitely the nicest of the people that he worked with.

  “I thought that was only for showbiz,” Julian protested, grinning at Ella, who shot him back a conspiratorial grin of her own.

  “This is showbiz,” she confided in him. “Never forget that.”

  The thought had the smile on his face solidifying. Things weren’t perfect, but when were they ever? He had a job to do, and that was all that mattered. So he grabbed the mic that was handed to him, checked to make sure that his smile was still in place, and strode out onto the stage like he owned it.

  For the next couple of hours, he did.

  There weren’t really that many people in the club, not this early, not on a Wednesday night. Hell, Julian didn’t even know of that many jazz clubs out there anymore. This was, after all, 2017. Not exactly the height of the jazz scene anymore.

  So he went out there, and he sang his heart out, and he tried not to care that they were the same old jazz standards that everyone had heard a million times before. Yes, his voice suited them well. Yes, he did his best to make them his own, but there was only so much that he could do with them.

  Finally, it was drawing toward the end of his set, and he knew that Ella would be up after him. He wanted to leave the crowd in a good mood for her, and he knew that she had a more sober style in general than he did, going more for the ballads. So he slowed it down, ended up at the baby grand piano, playing a soft, smooth version of Moonlight in Vermont.

  It wasn’t, he thought to himself briefly, that he didn’t like the classics. They were, after all, what had given him his driving passion for succeeding, even in the very limited way that he had, in this business. It’s just that he thought there was the potential for so much more …

  And then, like he always eventually did, he lost himself in the music. In the movements of his fingers on the piano’s classy ivory keyboard, the soft, sweet notes that his movements evoked, the lyrics, the lighting, everything about it.

  He was born to perform. He’d known that from the time that he was nothing more than a child, going to church with his family, getting involved with the children’s choir, always happiest when he had a solo.

  There was a moment, right at the moment when the song was at its height, right when it was at the sweetest and most romantic, that Julian realized that his eyes were shut tight. That was no good. His boss would get pissed at him for that. He was supposed to be interacting with the crowd, and that was usually something he did with no issue, but he’d let himself get swept away …

  So he opened his eyes, and there was a moment when the lights went down, just for a second, and Julian saw him again.

  There was this man who had been coming to watch him every single night for weeks. Or maybe he wasn’t really watching Julian, maybe that was nothing but a fantasy on his part. The guy, though, he always arrived at some point before Julian was on, and left at some point after he was done. Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but Julian was almost certain that it did.

  At that moment, when the lights were down, when Julian could actually look at the crowd and see them, pick out faces, features, that was when he found himself looking right at the stranger. Yes, stranger, though it was odd because it almost didn’t feel like he was someone unknown.

  The man was tall, taller than Julian, at least. He couldn’t be sure, but he would bet that the guy was close to six feet, if not actually there. He was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. Achingly, flawlessly beautiful, with long brown hair that swept his shoulders and big eyes. What color were those eyes? Julian found himself curious, but he did
n’t know. He’d never been close enough to know. Light, he thought. Green or blue or gray. Impossible to tell from the distance that they were apart.

  Full lips, high cheekbones, the guy was a stunner. The sort of guy that was so far out of Julian’s league that it wasn’t even funny. Yet there was something about how those eyes settled on him, how they never moved from him, that he found deeply flattering. What to make of it, he didn’t know, but those eyes were on him, and they made him feel strange.

  Peaceful, and yet scared. Exhilarated, and yet content. Things that shouldn’t have been able to coexist somehow managed.

  For the rest of his set, Julian sang to the strange man, and each note of the piano was meant for him. The gorgeous stranger sitting in the corner of the bar with his friend, as he so often was. Sitting quietly, a look of earnest concentration on his lovely face, and those eyes, those stunning, arresting eyes, never glancing away.

  There were other people who had come to watch Julian. People who made it a point to be there regularly. It was good to have fans, but why did this man, whom Julian had never shared so much as a word with, why did he somehow mean more than all of the other people in the club put together? Why did he feel special, significant somehow?

  In a daze, almost, Julian left the stage. It was like the man’s face, his eyes, were burned into his retinas. Like every time he blinked, there the guy was, looking at him, watching. Enjoying the music.

  Or enjoying Julian? Impossible to say, but that thought was deeply thrilling.

  “What’s going on with you?” Ella asked, on her way past him. He was shaken out of his daze enough to shake his head at her, to wave her concern off. They didn’t have time to speak right then, and he found himself strangely grateful for that.

  Despite the fact that the meeting of their eyes had happened in a very public place, Julian couldn’t help but hold it in his heart, to cherish it, as a private, personal event. Intimate. Was it too ridiculous of him to think of it as a joining of the minds, or maybe of the spirits, on some level?

  Of course it was. He might sing romantic songs, but he was no idiot. He was too logical to believe in love at first sight. But maybe, for the very first time, he understood where people could get the idea of such a thing from.

  Right then and there, ducking through the busy backroom area, Julian knew that he was going to be starting a song about the beautiful man in the bar. Maybe, just maybe, it would be a song that he would be able to finish.

  Anything was possible.

  * * *

  It was late. Julian had collected his money for working tonight long ago, and he should have left. There was certainly nothing keeping him here, and though he found a spot out of the way to settle down in, there were too many people bustling around for it to really be convenient for anyone involved.

  Ideas buzzed around in his head, and he let them. It was too noisy for him to write any of them down, and he had nothing to write with, anyway. It was better that way, for him. Let the better ideas grow and get stronger. Let everything percolate through his brain.

  He didn’t realize just how long he’d been there, not until he saw Ella returning from her set, with her face sweetly tired and covered in perspiration. She loved this as much as he did, he had realized that a long time ago. Anyone who stuck around at this club did it for the jazz, for the sheer, thrilling, exultant love of music.

  Certainly, they didn’t do it for the pay, he thought wryly to himself.

  It was time to go, before … and then Ella did see him, and her face lit up as she came over to him. All of a sudden, he was aware of how tired he was. How he really should have left about an hour and a half ago. There was only one more set to go. It had to be after midnight by now.

  “You’re still here.” Ella’s voice was full of satisfaction, and she tugged him over to a private corner. Though the term ‘private’ was up for debate. It was quieter, though, and the backstage area itself was starting to get a little bit less crazy as the hour drew on and people went home.

  “He’s here again,” Ella said, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. “The good looking one. He came back again.”

  Julian affected an air of disinterest, giving a casual little shrug.

  “Is he?” Julian asked. “I didn’t notice.”

  The look Ella gave him heavily suggested that she wasn’t fooled by the act at all. It projected this aura of don’t insult my intelligence, I know you know at him without her having to say a single word.

  “Okay, okay,” Julian said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I noticed. But he’s probably not gay. He probably just really has a thing for jazz or something. Or …”

  Whatever he was going to babble out next, Ella didn’t let him get that far. She just shook her head.

  “He always watches your set. He never takes his eyes off of you. I’ve seen other people try to talk to him. He’s polite, but the moment you’re on, it’s like … that’s all that there is.”

  That was, honestly, the sense that Julian had gotten. It could have been too intense, if not for the fact that the guy had never said anything to him. He’d never even tried to approach him. It could have come off as kind of stalkery, but instead, it was just flattering.

  “Okay, yeah. I noticed that he … he’s usually around. And watching me. But what do you want me to do about it?”

  The question was not rhetorical. He would love to get some direction. His romantic life was pretty, well, nonexistent was probably the best word to sum it up. Yes, he had felt an instant attraction to the guy, but left on his own, would he ever be brave enough to do anything about it?

  Honestly, probably not.

  “Go talk to him.” Ella’s voice was affectionate and supportive, but also implacable. She cared about him. They’d worked with each other for a few months now, but they’d become friends fast. Even just her love of the same music that meant so much to him would have probably been enough for him to like her, but it went so much deeper than that.

  Kind, compassionate, no-nonsense. That was Ella. And her concern for him, for everyone, made her strong. She meddled, but in a completely benevolent way, because she sincerely wanted everyone around her to be happy.

  “I can’t go talk to him,” he said, struggling with the idea. Usually, he would be against the idea because he wasn’t interested enough in the person he was being pushed to talk with. In this case, it was just the opposite. The more he poked at the idea, the more he tried it on for size, the more he found that he wanted to do just that. Talk to the man. Ask his name.

  See what color those remarkable eyes really were.

  “Yeah, you can,” Ella smirked at him, then linked her arm through his. “He’s cute, and I think it’s probably been way too long since you last got laid, Mister. So why not go for it? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Julian considered that very seriously. The worst that could happen. His mind could come up with some pretty bad scenarios. Some things that would be pretty damn bad.

  “He could splash his drink in my face, call me a fag, and maybe even call the cops on me,” Julian answered the question seriously. That would be pretty bad. As a gay man with really no functioning gaydar at all, he didn’t put himself out there very much. None of those terrible scenarios had ever happened to him, but that didn’t mean that he was brave enough to try them.

  Ella rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah right. Just don’t be an asshole about it,” she said encouragingly and tugged him gently toward the door that led into the front area, the one that was open to customers. It was a gentle tug, though. She, thankfully, wouldn’t actually force him to do anything. “I mean, it’s up to you, but … I do think you should talk to him. What if you don’t, and then, tomorrow, he’s just not in the bar?”

  Julian winced. Yes, the handsome stranger was there most days, but not all of them. He really had no idea, he realized, what the man did. Maybe he was only in town for a few weeks. He had literally no way of knowing.

&
nbsp; Only that wasn’t true, and he knew it. It made irritation gnaw at his stomach, but there was one way that he could know, and that would be if he did exactly what Ella suggested and actually went to talk to the guy.

  Only that wasn’t the sort of thing that Julian did. He had remained largely single in his life, focused on his work, on getting to where he was. On working minimum wage jobs before this just to give him the money to live. A few flings here and there, sure, but nothing serious.

  “You don’t have to marry the guy,” Ella continued ruthlessly, damn her. The worst part of it, he felt a sinking certainty in the pit of his stomach that she was right. It grew, that certainty, the more he tried to push it away. “Just talk to him.”

  “Fine,” Julian said, sort of surprising himself in the process. “Fine. I’ll go talk to him. I’ll make an idiot of myself, and then you get to buy me a drink to make up for it.”

  “Deal,” she said promptly, and Julian shrugged. Well, even if he totally lost his self-esteem here, at least he would get a free drink out of it. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  Still arm in arm, the two of them walked out of the backroom area, with Julian feeling like he might trip over something, or start shaking, or maybe just throw up. At least it would be over soon. The impossibly handsome stranger would reject him, hopefully not in too terrible of a way, and then he could say that he’d told Ella so and collect his drink from her.

  Only part of him hoped, in some dim, romantic way that he didn’t even like to admit to himself, that maybe there would be some sort of spark between him and the stranger. Maybe he’d be able to talk to the guy without making an ass of himself.

  Wasn’t it possible, however unlikely, that he and the guy could be meant for something?

  Only when Julian dared to cast his glance toward the unobtrusive little table where the guy always sat, the one right in the corner of the bar, it was empty. Another quick, panicked glance at the door showed it just swinging closed.