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  “Dyl Pickle!” Jesse exclaimed, raising a hand to meet Dylan’s in a cracking high-five. Dylan had inherited his mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but he’d recently sprouted up tall and rangy, signaling he might take after his father.

  “It’s about time you got your lazy tuchus out here, kid. I’ve waited fifteen whole minutes since the bell rang!” Jesse put his hands on his hips in a show of mock anger and Dylan rolled his eyes, but before they could carry on with their playful sniping, Mr. Lewis cleared his throat.

  “That’s my fault, and I apologize.”

  Jesse turned his attention to the music teacher, and a prickle of sudden awareness fell over him.

  Damn.

  He’d expected Mr. Lewis to be…well, he didn’t know what he’d expected. Someone middle-aged, perhaps, maybe on the mousy side. Certainly not the young and very attractive man standing in front of him with auburn hair peeking out from beneath a gray ski cap.

  “I left my recorder in the music lab,” Dylan piped up. He smiled at Jesse and Mr. Lewis, then took hold of Jesse’s hand.

  Jesse grinned. He also tried not to notice the Cute Music Teacher’s lovely light brown eyes and the freckles sprayed over the bridge of his nose, but, oops, too late.

  “Miss Danvers told me about your music program,” he said to Dylan instead. “Pretty cool you’re already learning to read music.”

  Dylan shrugged. “I guess. It’s not like it’s hard. And Mr. Lewis is a good teacher.”

  Jesse bit back a laugh. Like so many children his age, Dylan shared every thought and feeling regardless of time or place, something Jesse admired very much. He shifted his attention to the man in front of him. “Hi, I’m Jesse. Dylan’s with me today.”

  Mr. Lewis nodded. “He mentioned someone different would pick him up today. Dylan seemed concerned about making the extra trip back to my room, but I assured him you wouldn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes.”

  Jesse studied the concern flitting over Dylan’s face and gave him a smile. “Of course I didn’t mind, silly. Besides, what would your dad and Sadie say if I turned up at your place tonight without you?” He angled his head and studied a giggling Dylan. “So, do we have everything now? Books, assignments, bagpipes, drums?”

  “I don’t play bagpipes, Jesse!”

  “Oh, too bad—they’re one of my favorite instruments. Looks like you didn’t forget your head back in Mr. Lewis’ classroom, so at least we don’t have to worry about that.”

  Dylan laughed. “My head doesn’t come off, der-r-r.”

  “Dylan should have everything,” Mr. Lewis said with a chuckle. “I even put new copies of his sheet music in his folder. The originals were looking a little ragged, and I know how much he enjoys practicing. That’s what took us so long to get out here.”

  Jesse raised his brows at Dylan. “Nice! What songs will I be hearing today?”

  “Um, I have Au Claire de la Lune and Sailor, Sailor on the Sea.” Jesse blinked at the unfamiliar song titles, but Dylan continued on blithely. “Mr. Lewis gave me new songs to try because I learned the other ones already.”

  “Dylan and a few of the other students were quick to pick up music reading and I’ve moved them ahead in the song workbooks,” Mr. Lewis said. “Playing Hot Cross Buns for four weeks in a row can be kind of demoralizing when you’re ready to learn new songs.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Jesse replied. “That last one sounds more like a dance club name than a song title, so clearly I am out of my depth.” He watched, charmed as Mr. Lewis blushed, and pink stained the fair, freckled skin of his cheeks and throat.

  Interesting.

  Cute Mr. Lewis almost looked like he’d been caught out, but doing what? Jesse wanted to know more about that blush and how far the color traveled beneath the collar of his gray parka.

  He suppressed a sigh as Dylan shifted beside him. Damn it. Flirting with Dylan’s music teacher was a bad idea. They’d lingered long enough for most of the crowds around them to clear, and Dylan seemed antsy to end his school day.

  Jesse made big eyes at his charge. “You ready to go, big guy? We need to pick up a few things on the way back to your dad’s so we can make dinner for him and Lady Sadie.”

  Dylan snapped to attention. “Ready! What are we making?”

  “Your sister requested bugs again, and I thought I’d dress up some mac ’n’ cheese.” Jesse caught the music teacher’s bewildered expression and chuckled. “I’m talking an inside joke about seafood here, Mr. Lewis—Sadie and Dylan think shrimp look like bugs. It’s disgusting, I know, but please don’t call CPS.”

  Mr. Lewis laughed outright and the sound did funny things to Jesse’s insides.

  “Well, that clears things up without making any sense.” Mr. Lewis waved at Dylan. “I can see you’re in good hands, Dylan. I’ll see you tomorrow!” He exchanged nods with Jesse, eyes sparkling beautifully, then turned back toward the school.

  Jesse and Dylan moved off, joining the stream of foot traffic. The cloudless sky over them allowed the sun to warm the spring air, so they skipped the subway and headed back to Carter and Riley’s townhouse in Murray Hill on foot. They chatted about Dylan’s day while Jesse did his best not to think about Mr. Lewis. However, thoughts of the music teacher continued to return to him, like the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

  He and Dylan were in a market near Dylan’s home buying shrimp and lump crabmeat when Jesse’s curiosity got the better of him. “How do you like learning the recorder?” he asked. They were waiting at the seafood counter and Dylan took a bite of the fig bar he’d chosen to snack on.

  “It’s good,” Dylan said through the mouthful. “I told Mr. Lewis I want to play percussion next, and he said he’d talk to my mom and dad and Riley about it.”

  “What’ll you play in percussion?”

  “Bells and drums,” Dylan replied.

  “Bells?”

  “Orchestra bells. The real name is glockenspale. No, wait. Glockenspiel! They’re like a metal xylophone. They’re wicked loud,” Dylan added with obvious glee.

  Jesse chuckled. He could guess at the mixed feelings Dylan’s decision had inspired in all three of his parents. “Sadie plays piano, right? You don’t want to learn that?”

  Dylan scoffed. “Nah. I mean, if I can’t play drums, I guess I’ll play guitar.”

  The defiant gleam in his eye warmed Jesse’s heart. He appreciated the kid’s rebellious tendencies, even knowing they’d someday drive his parents crazy.

  “I’m sure your mom and dad and Ri will figure it out with Mr. Lewis, buddy,” he said. “Besides, playing guitar is pretty awesome, too.”

  “That’s what Mr. Lewis said.”

  Jesse raised his brows. “Did he now?”

  “Yep.” Dylan nodded. “Mr. Lewis plays piano, guitar and the thing that kind of looks like a guitar but it’s round?”

  “The banjo?” Jesse guessed. That figured. Any hipster musician worth his salt owned one.

  “Yeah! He brought it to class at the beginning of the year and played a bunch of songs. It was silver and shiny and loud, too. And Mr. Lewis can play really fast!” Dylan crumpled up the fig bar wrapper and shoved it in his coat pocket. “I think he plays other things, but I don’t know what they are.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He said he plays music after school, too. Which means he makes music almost all day long! Cool, huh?”

  The admiration writ large in Dylan’s expression made Jesse smile. “Cool, Dyl.”

  After they’d dropped Dylan’s backpack and the groceries at the townhouse, they walked Leo, the family’s Border collie. Then Jesse helped Dylan with his homework and Carter and Sadie turned up while Dylan practiced songs and Jesse heated water for the pasta. For the next several hours, he and the Hamiltons settled into the cheerful chaos that marked life with young children.

  Sadie and Dylan were sticking spoons to their noses when Carter caught Jesse’s eye over the
table. “Thanks again for helping out today. I know you could be wining and dining Astrid right now.”

  “I can wine and dine Astrid anytime,” Jesse scoffed. “Seafood mac ’n’ cheese with you and the rugrats, on the other hand, is a much rarer affair. Besides, you’ve been with these monsters for five days already, so I figured you could use some form of adult conversation over dinner tonight.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?”

  Jesse narrowed his eyes at Carter. “Don’t be mean or you won’t get any of the cookies Dylan and I picked up at the bakery counter.”

  “They look so good,” Dylan cut in, cheese sauce dotting the bridge of his nose. “Jesse wanted to get a fruit salad, but I told him the cookies looked way tastier.”

  Carter held up both hands in surrender, his expression almost comically pleading. “Okay, you win. I take back anything snotty that’s come out of my mouth for the last two hours.”

  Jesse broke up laughing. “Jesus, your face. I always forget your kids got the big puppy dog eyes from you and not your ex.”

  “Hah, it’s true.” Carter looked a bit frazzled and there were cheesy fingerprints on his shirt, but he appeared content. “Did Dylan use them on you today?”

  “A bit, yes. He went back to the music lab after dismissal and it took him a while to get outside. He gave me the face after the music teacher mentioned Dylan said I might leave without him.”

  “Oh?” Carter glanced at his son, who’d been helping Sadie get sauce all over her face. “He actually said those words? That you wouldn’t wait?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m more paraphrasing what his teacher said than Dyl himself.” Jesse sipped his wine. “Speaking of Mr. Lewis, is he even old enough to be teaching? He and the adorable Miss Danvers could pass for college students.”

  Carter leveled a knowing look at him. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing at all.” Jesse made puppy dog eyes of his own at his friend. “I simply realized how very young they seem to be and wondered about the dearth of cozy-looking, middle-aged schoolmarms at that school.”

  “The schoolmarms seem to be aging out of the system,” Carter replied and lifted his glass. “I think I told you Kate and I went to an open house at the school last summer and couldn’t believe how many new, young faces there were. I swear, I almost had an existential crisis.”

  Jesse stared at him for a moment. “Oh, I remember this conversation from your housewarming. Something about the music teacher being a fetus with two first names.”

  Carter inhaled wine at the non sequitur, and several moments passed before either of them could stop coughing or laughing to speak again. The kids joined in, even though neither knew what amused the adults so much, and Sadie handed her father a napkin to dab his eyes.

  “You’re a wreck, Daddy,” she told him. On top of inheriting her father’s dark-brown hair and hazel eyes, Sadie also frequently channeled Carter’s serene demeanor, as she did now.

  “Yes,” he croaked out. “Yes, I am. Thanks, honey.” Sadie leaned over and hoovered up a piece of fallen macaroni from the table with her mouth and Dylan looked on, clearly impressed. Carter wrinkled his nose. “We use utensils at this table, Sadie, c’mon.”

  Jesse covered another laugh with one hand.

  “I told you the teachers were practically fetuses,” Carter clarified then, his focus back on Jesse. “And that the music teacher had two first names and therefore could not be trusted. His first name is Cameron, in case you didn’t manage to worm it out of him.”

  “I didn’t, thanks, and you hit the nail right on the head.” Jesse reached for the bottle of wine to top off his glass. “Cameron Lewis is two first names, and he and his colleagues are practically babies.”

  Carter waved off his offer of a refill. “They know what they’re doing and the kids like them. Age and wisdom don’t always go hand in hand, you know.”

  “Oh, God, you sound like Yoda.”

  “I feel about as old as Yoda right now. But don’t mind me. I just need to sleep over the weekend and I’ll be fine. Speaking of which, you and Kyle are still coming up on Saturday, right?”

  “Absolutely. Kyle’s taking me to a club Friday night, and we’ll probably crash at my place for a few hours afterward, then meet up with you guys Saturday afternoon.” Jesse rubbed a hand over his head. “Then again, we could leave Manhattan after the club and drive straight down to your place, too. We’ll bring breakfast if that happens.”

  Carter grimaced. “Ugh, my brain is crying even thinking about that level of sleep deprivation. You sure Kyle’s going to be able to stand being away from the bar two nights in a row?”

  “Eh, we’ll see.” Jesse shook his head, his smile fond. “I know he can—it’s a matter of making sure he does. The guy deserves a couple of nights off, so we have to do our best to force him to relax.”

  “Says the guy who never relaxes.” Carter smiled as Jesse raised his hands in mock outrage. “What club is he taking you to?”

  “Club Ember. It’s under one of the boutique hotels in Chelsea. One of Kyle’s friends curates the bar menu.”

  Carter’s eyes shone with amusement. “You’re taking a night off from your underground bar to go to an underground nightclub to check out the competition?”

  Jesse laughed. “Busted. It won’t be all work, no play, however. I can’t speak for Kyle, but I plan to do what I always do best—check out the beautiful people of Manhattan and find someone fun to play with for a couple of hours.”

  Chapter Four

  The last three times Cam had glanced up, he’d caught someone staring at him. Someone very attractive with a beard. The distance made it hard to be sure, but Cam had a nagging feeling he should recognize him. He seemed familiar, but Cam couldn’t place him. Actor, maybe? He reminded Cam of Captain Kirk in the new Star Trek movies. The one both better-looking and far less annoying than the actor from the original TV series, at least as far as Cam was concerned. He’d had that argument with his roommate Myron more than once.

  They did get some famous names in the club, but since this guy was accompanied only by a second hot guy with darker hair and no entourage, Cam guessed it wasn’t him.

  Cam watched him surreptitiously during his set. He was a good dancer and he’d put on a nice show with the dark-haired guy. They moved together well, like they’d done it many times before. Partners? Fuck buddies? Cam couldn’t tell. They seemed comfortable with each other, but the bearded guy spent a lot of time eyeing Cam, too. There was no mistaking the fact that Cam was being eye-fucked.

  Not that he minded.

  Threesome? he wondered. He didn’t make a habit of them, but they could be fun. There were worse thoughts than being sandwiched between those two. Blood rushed to his groin at the idea.

  Cam looked away and focused on the music, but his attention was drawn back to them. When the bearded guy pressed a kiss on his dance partner’s cheek and made a beeline for Cam, he wasn’t surprised. He lowered his headphones so they hung around his neck and smiled.

  “Great set,” the man shouted.

  “Thanks! Glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “Jesse Murtagh.” He held out a hand. “We met the other day.”

  Cam narrowed his eyes. “That’s how I know you! I knew you looked familiar. You picked up Dylan Hamilton at school. You’re friends with his father, right?”

  “Guilty as charged.” Jesse grinned. “And you’re Dylan’s music teacher, Mr. Lewis, right?”

  “Cameron. But you can call me Cam.”

  “So, you’re a music teacher by day, secret DJ by night, Cam?”

  Cam laughed. “It’s not a secret. I mean, the school knows about my side gig.”

  “Still, it’s kinda sexy.” Jesse’s gaze raked over him and Cam’s blood heated. “I like it.”

  “Thanks.” Cam felt flustered all of a sudden. God, the man’s charm was potent. He’d been intrigued after they’d met at the school, but he’d also been working and he’d tried hard to maintain a pr
ofessional demeanor. Technically, he was working now, too, but no one cared if he flirted with the club’s patrons.

  “Do you have a break coming up at some point?”

  Cam glanced at the time on his laptop. “In about an hour.”

  “Excellent.” Jesse flashed him a brilliant smile. “Then I’ll meet you back here in an hour. I’m buying you a drink.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, huh?” Cam grinned. Jesse clearly assumed he was gay or bi. Cam hadn’t been subtle about checking him and his friend out earlier.

  Jesse grasped Cam’s upper arm and leaned in. His hand was warm on Cam’s skin, and his beard tickled his cheek and ear. “One thing you should know about me, Mr. Lewis, is that I am always sure of myself. And I usually get what I want.”

  I believe it, Cam thought. But he pulled back so he could look Jesse in the eye and kept his expression neutral. “That’s two things.”

  Jesse tipped his head back and laughed. “You are correct.”

  Cam decided to string him along a little further. He was interested, but he liked the idea of making Jesse squirm a little. “Meet me back here in an hour and we’ll talk about a drink. No promises.”

  “Done.” Jesse squeezed his arm again. He’d sailed right past the part where Cam hadn’t actually agreed to have a drink with him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Cam spent the next hour in a bit of a daze, trying not to sneak glances over at Jesse, hyper-aware that he’d taken a seat with a direct view of Cam’s booth and hadn’t taken his eyes off Cam. The attention was flattering—if overwhelming. After meeting Jesse at the school, Cam had checked the pickup roster and recognized his name. Some googling had brought a wealth of information to his fingertips.

  Jesse Murtagh was a force to be reckoned with. He had a well-documented reputation as a bisexual playboy—complete with pictures of various beautiful people on his arm—and was equally well known for being an integral part of his family’s media company. Murtagh Media had begun a venture to acquire Radio Clash, a popular internet radio platform, with Jesse spearheading the project. He appeared to be every bit as accomplished as he was attractive.