* * * *
“Tell me it’s better now that you’ve heard it,” Darien shouted over the roar of the drummer showing off for a gaggle of appreciative onlookers. Darien had been surprisingly good and sexy as hell to watch. He’d also poured the energy and emotion in to the next set like nobody’s business. So when he hopped down for a break, he was sweaty, pumped and grinning like a jackal.
Malcolm winced. “I, err, it’s—” He stopped himself, looked around guilty at the enamored assembly. “Loud.”
“That’s it? All I get is loud?”
Malcolm shook his finger at the petulant look Darien was giving him. “I don’t make you eat chocolate, even though I know I can bake better than anyone else on this continent with it. It’s a preference thing. Not a personal attack.”
Darien screwed up his nose and mock-gagged
