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  Dayton had no clue what Tawny saw in the lion shifter other than his looks. He had the personality of a jackass. And that was putting it mildly.

  Hart pushed Tawny away from him a little and acknowledged the shifter standing beside Dayton with a brief nod of his head.

  “You going to introduce me to your friend?”

  Tawny glanced over at Rick and blushed. “Right. Hart, this is Rick. Rick, this is my brother, Hart.”

  Tawny’s boyfriend continued to look surly, even when Hart held out his hand to shake. It didn’t escape any of their notice when he wiped his hand off on his jeans after touching Hart.

  Dayton shook his head, and Tawny looked at him questioningly. He rolled his eyes, and she turned back to her chatter with her brother.

  Rick saw a table across the restaurant empty out, and he tapped Tawny on the shoulder. “I’m going to go get us a table. You coming?”

  “Sure. In a minute. You go ahead.”

  He scowled and stomped away.

  “He doesn’t like me much,” Hart said.

  She shrugged. “He doesn’t like anybody much. Don’t take it personally.”

  But Hart did, and so did Dayton. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she was so drawn to the sullen shifter. When Dayton and Tawny were together, they laughed and carried on like the teenagers they once were. When she was with Rick, she became Stepford Tawny, and it drove Dayton nuts.

  After a few more minutes, she excused herself and walked over to the other table. Carrie dropped off their desserts, and Hart stared down at them.

  “Yeah,” Dayton said. “I’ve lost my appetite too.”

  “I shouldn’t let it bother me, but attitudes like his will follow me forever, I’m afraid.”

  “They might. We’re all judged by the people around us, especially those who don’t take the time to get to know us. You think it’s easy being an openly gay teacher? When I first started, people were afraid if I looked at their sons too long, I wanted to jump their teenage bones or something. Ridiculous, but it happens.”

  Hart took a bite of his strawberry shortcake and grinned around the whipped cream. “Yum.”

  “Nice way to change the subject there, buddy.” Dayton laughed and took a bite of his dessert as well. They didn’t talk for a few minutes as they finished their meal, but as soon as the plates were clean and they’d paid for their lunch, Hart stood and held out his hand to Dayton.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Dayton took Hart’s hand and let it pull him from the booth. Hart wrapped his arm around Dayton’s waist, and Dayton found the added support comforting. It puzzled him, because as touchy-feely as he could be with his friends, he generally preferred to keep the public displays of affection to a minimum.

  His students called out their good-byes, and several other patrons waved as they exited the restaurant. When they reached the car, Hart again opened the door for Dayton. Before Dayton got inside, Hart pulled him close and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

  “Thank you for coming to lunch with me.”

  Dayton wrapped his arms around Hart’s waist and gave him a quick hug. “It was nice.”

  They shared a smile, and then Dayton climbed into the car. Hart headed back to Dayton’s house, and when they pulled into the driveway, he turned to stare at Dayton.

  “I’m having a get-together this Friday for some industry friends. I’d like for you to come.”

  Dayton wrinkled up his nose. “I’m not sure I’d fit in.”

  Hart reached over and cupped Dayton’s cheek in his hand. “You will. Please?”

  If Dayton wanted to see where this would lead, he couldn’t let Hart be the only one making the effort. “Okay.”

  “Excellent. Well, I’ll let you get back to your day. I’m going to head on back to Atlanta.”

  Dayton fought the disappointment and forced a smile. “Okay. I enjoyed spending time with you.”

  Hart tugged Dayton closer and kissed him gently. “I’m glad. You and I, we’re going to make a great team.”

  Dayton climbed out of the car and pushed the door closed. He watched Hart back out of his driveway and speed away.

  A team. A nice dream, but could they make it a reality?

  Chapter Six

  FRIDAY ROLLED around faster than Dayton anticipated. He pulled at the collar of the new shirt Tawny had insisted he purchase for the occasion. She’d shown up at his house the day before and found him ironing one of his white dress shirts.

  “What’s that?”

  He smirked. “A shirt.”

  “I know that, doofus. What’s it for?”

  Dayton flipped the shirt around and began ironing the lapels. “Hart invited me to a party at his house tomorrow night.”

  She gasped in horror. “You are not wearing that. You’ll look like a waiter!”

  “What? No, I won’t.”

  She grumbled and marched over to the wall. The plug for the iron didn’t stand a chance as she ripped it from the wall ferociously. “Yes, you will. How are we friends? Remind me again? You have the fashion sense of a flea.”

  With that, she’d dragged him to the mall and made him try on a dozen shirts in a store that smelled so heavily of cologne that it gagged him.

  She’d settled on the one he currently wore. Dayton had put the bag from the store in his trunk and washed the shirt the moment he got home. He did not want that smell following him around.

  With another quick tug of his collar, he got up the nerve to approach the elevators in Hart’s building. Several other guests stood in the lobby, all of them dressed much more stylishly than Dayton. Maybe Tawny had a point. He still stood out a bit, but nowhere near as badly as he would have in the plain white shirt.

  The elevator dinged, and the door swooshed open. A hulking guy blocked Dayton’s path and allowed the other guests to get inside. “All full. You’ll have to wait for the next one.”

  He stepped back, and the doors closed again. Dayton jabbed at the up button again. “For the love of all that’s holy. What the heck am I doing here?”

  It took several more minutes for the elevator to arrive again, and this time Dayton had the car to himself. By the time he reached Hart’s floor, he’d convinced himself to make a quick appearance and leave before he made a fool out of himself and Hart.

  A black-suited man stood outside the apartment with a clipboard in hand. Seriously? He checked Dayton’s name off of his list after looking him up and down with a puzzled frown. Dayton pulled out his wallet and flashed his driver’s license.

  “Okay,” the man said reluctantly. “Go on in.”

  Dayton opened the door and found a small crowd in Hart’s living room. About twenty guests mingled around, and Hart stood across the room with his back to the door. He laughed, and one of the guys beside him leaned in and placed his hand on Hart’s arm. Dayton swore the dude batted his lashes as he flirted.

  With an eye roll, Dayton headed for the kitchen and a much-needed drink. He found the kitchen stuffed to the gills with a catering team and groaned.

  One of the waitresses turned to him. “You’re late.”

  “What? No.”

  She handed him a tray of drinks. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

  Great. So much for his shirt making him not look like one of the waitstaff. Dayton gave up on finding a drink and carried the tray out to the living room. The scavengers emptied the tray before he’d made it a dozen steps into the room.

  Hart turned his head and spotted Dayton. He frowned when he noticed the tray in Dayton’s hand.

  Dayton shrugged and went back to the kitchen.

  Before he could get a refilled tray, Hart stepped into the room behind him. “What are you doing?”

  “Apparently, you’re short-staffed.”

  “Justine, can you explain to me why one of my guests is serving drinks?”

  The caterer turned around and blanched. Yeah, Dayton wouldn’t want to be the recipient of that tone either.
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  “But, sir, he… I… we….”

  “You came highly recommended, but I’m now wondering why.” Hart took the tray from Dayton’s hand and slammed it on the counter.

  The waitress came back in and heard Hart’s statement. She gasped and looked at Dayton in horror. “Sir, it’s my fault. I thought he was the waiter we’ve been waiting on.”

  Hart glared at them both before turning to Dayton. “Hey, sweetheart. Sorry for this.” He leaned down and kissed Dayton.

  Hart led Dayton into the rest of the room and began making the circle of his guests. He introduced him to Sydnie Knyght, and Dayton fought the urge to burst into her newest song. She nodded politely and turned to Hart and asked some technical legal question Dayton didn’t understand. And he was surprised she did. Appearances could be deceiving.

  Dayton left them to their conversation and wandered among the guests. He spotted the waitress with a tray of drinks and headed her way. She winced and offered him a drink.

  “Hey, don’t be upset about it. I should have spoken up. But can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure. I owe you one.”

  “Is there any way I can get a ginger ale or something? And maybe put it in one of the champagne glasses? I’m not up for drinking tonight.”

  She patted his arm. “I completely understand. I’ll get you one now.”

  A group of young men sat on Hart’s black couch. One looked more sullen than the others, and Dayton wanted to sit and chat with him. See if he could cheer the kid up. When the waitress brought his drink, he decided to give it a try.

  “Hey, I’m Dayton,” he said as he plopped down on the sofa.

  The kid grunted. “Kyle.”

  “You look like you’re having about as much fun as I am.”

  He rolled his eyes. “My manager dragged me here. I’m supposed to be studying. If I flunk my history test tomorrow, I’m going to have to face my mother’s wrath. And believe me, I might have a hit record, but she doesn’t give a shit.”

  “You go to school?”

  He shrugged and slumped farther down in the seat. “We have a tutor.” He gestured around to the rest of the guys. “They all do fine, but I suck at history.”

  “What are you studying?”

  Kyle looked at Dayton like he’d grown two heads. “The Civil Rights Movement.”

  “Oh, that’s an amazing period in history. So much change in the midst of social turmoil. Lots of juicy tidbits hiding in that time period.”

  “Are you some supernerd or something?”

  Dayton laughed. “Well, that depends. Does being a high school history teacher count as being a super nerd?”

  “Oh yeah.” The kid laughed and shook his head. “I really stuck my foot in it this time, didn’t I?”

  Dayton shrugged. “I’m used to it. You’re not the first and won’t be the last.”

  “So, um, what’s a high school teacher doing at this kind of party? None of my teachers ever hung around with this crowd.”

  “You know, kid, your guess is as good as mine.” He pointed over to Hart. “See the big guy there?”

  “Oh yeah. Hart. He’s our lawyer. Cool guy.”

  “Yep. We went to high school together. He wanted me to come up and hang out.” Dayton tore his gaze away from Hart flirting with yet another superstar. “I think I’m out of my league here.”

  “Nah,” the kid leaned over to him and whispered, “we all shit, just like you do. That’s what my mom says, anyway. Well, she doesn’t say shit, but you know what I mean.”

  “That’s a great way to think about it.”

  “Yep. You just gotta put on your predator face. Right now? Man, you look like you’re about to be eaten. Can’t do that at this type of deal. You’ve gotta make ’em wonder who you are and why they gotta be nice to ya. Otherwise? You’re toast.”

  “Good to know.” Dayton practiced a scowly face. “How’s that?”

  Kyle laughed. “Uh, no. Man, you kinda suck at this.”

  “Hey, I’m new at this. Help me out, and maybe I can help you out with your Civil Rights stuff. Deal?”

  “You’d really help me?”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s not that hard. We’ll get you to pass at the very least.”

  “That’s all I’ve gotta do. Get a C. Lower than that and Mom says she’s pulling me from the tour. Says if I can’t get my education, she doesn’t want me to do this anymore.”

  “Smart lady. Imagine reading all those fancy contracts that Hart writes up for you. Don’t you want to understand them yourself? Or are you going to always depend on someone else to look out for you?”

  Kyle sat up a little straighter. “And studying history will help me with my contracts?”

  “Not necessarily. But it’s important to know where we came from. Plus, when you’re writing songs and listening to music from the past, you’ll understand it better. And if you can make the connections from those songs, you can make the connections for your own.”

  “Huh. That’s… kinda smart. I just write whatever’s in my head.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. I’d guess that’s where all music comes from. Ever heard John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ever thought about what it means?”

  Kyle frowned. “Not really.”

  “You should. Think about the line ‘Imagine all the people living life in peace’. Lennon’s in a country at war. He’s protesting it. His song is a plea for peace, you know? And ‘Imagine’ is one of the most influential songs of all time. Talk about getting your message out there, you know?”

  Several of Kyle’s bandmates turned their attention to them. One of them spoke up. “Didn’t they use songs to help the slaves find their way on the Underground Railroad? Oh, I’m Darren, by the way.”

  Dayton smiled. “Nice to meet you, Darren. And absolutely. The spirituals were full of hidden meaning and codes to help the runaway slaves find safe passage. That’s what I’m telling you. Music is powerful. Yeah, you guys are going to be famous and make a lot of money. But is that your real power? Or is it understanding how to reach the people listening to you?”

  “Dude, you’re making me want to study. What the hell?”

  “I’m a teacher. That’s my job.”

  Kyle snorted. “None of my teachers make me want to study. And our tutor? God, she’s so boring. Just tells me to read the book and then makes me take a test.”

  A heavy hand came to rest on Dayton’s neck. He looked up to find Hart smiling down at him. “So what has you guys so caught up in conversation?”

  “Man, your boy here is telling me how music and history go together. I never thought about that before.”

  Hart shook his head. “You should think about it. What, are you just going to let everyone else pick your songs for you? Tell you what to do?”

  Kyle rolled his eyes again. “That’s what he said. ’Cept he said I should know what you put in my contracts. Said I need to work on school so I know more stuff.”

  “And he’s right.”

  “Of course I am. Hart, did you know these guys have a test tomorrow with their tutor? Their manager said they had to be here.”

  Hart shook his head. “No, I didn’t. You guys need to get going?”

  They all shrugged.

  “Guys, he won’t be offended. You made an appearance. That’s good enough.”

  “What he said.” Hart grinned and pulled Dayton to his feet. “I always listen to him. You should too. He’s a smart guy.”

  “Yeah,” Kyle agreed. “Hey, Dayton. You think I can talk to you again sometime? I mean, I know you’re like a real teacher and all, but I liked talking to you.”

  Darren knocked their shoulders together. “And he doesn’t like many people.”

  “Sure, you can get my number from Hart. I’d like that. Now go study. I want to know how you do on your tests tomorrow.”

  They laughed and made their way to the door. Dayton noticed a man he assumed was their manager wa
ylay them, and he started to intervene, but they took care of it. The manager frowned but turned back to the party.

  “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.”

  Dayton glanced up at Hart. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

  “Just to me. So, you do realize who you were talking to, don’t you?”

  “Um, no? I figured they were some kids you were representing.”

  “Yes, hon. They are some kids I’m representing. Remember you singing along to Velcro Roses?”

  Dayton’s mouth fell open. “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “Wow. That’s a bit embarrassing.”

  Hart chuckled and led Dayton across the room. “Not really. Now we’re going to go talk to Vixen.”

  “Great. I don’t like her music. At least I liked theirs.”

  Hart introduced him to Vixen’s circle, and they made small talk for a few minutes.

  Dayton yawned. He tried to find someone else interesting to talk to, but everyone seemed to be in deep conversations. Hart’s attention was back on his guests, where it should be. Without the guys from Velcro Roses to talk to, Dayton wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  HART WATCHED Dayton disappear into his bedroom with a sigh. He wanted his mate to enjoy the party, but forgot how the endless business discussions swirled any time he had clients and their managers in a room together.

  An hour later, he shooed the last of his guests out the door. Vixen had spent the entire last hour whining about the state of her original contract and how trapped she felt by the terms. Hart hadn’t arranged the deal, or he’d never have let her agree to some of the stipulations the recording company placed in the contract.

  Nothing he could do about it. She owed them one more album. He could probably get a few additional concessions out of them due to her popularity, but they wouldn’t budge on the ones she so vehemently protested.

  Justine had the kitchen cleared up and some leftovers stored in his refrigerator. After paying her and receiving her solemn promise that she would never again assume a guest was a waiter, he sent her on her way as well.