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Harmony.
She was alone,
as far as he could tell, and unaware of his presence. Her
long, thick black hair hung down to the middle of her back,
clasped at the base of her neck by a simple barrette. She
wore a long-sleeved coral shirt that complemented her skin
tone. She moved in time with her playing.
Captivated, he
continued closer until her face was clear. It was
her. He’d never forget her face. The smooth skin, delicate
features and large eyes framed by doubly thick curled
lashes. She was slender with a tiny waist and breasts that,
he recalled, fitted so perfectly in his hands.
He knew when
she noticed she was no longer alone—her fingers faltered and
eventually she halted playing. Her dark brown eyes flashed
with reminiscent passion before it faded and her gaze
cooled. A flush skated up her cheeks, though.
“That was
beautiful,” he said, ignoring the powerful impulse to touch
her.
Her cheeks
reddened further. “Thank you.” She ducked her head. “What
are you doing here?”
Not the issue
at hand for him. “You left.” He fought a chill from the ice
in her eyes. Then, like the passion, it vanished to leave
behind a blank slate. His gaze moved to her hands, which
remained on the keys, then back to her face. The signs were
there. Blatant and obvious. She was about to bolt. He moved
closer and watched her eyes grow wider.
“Harmony,” he
said, her name falling familiarly from his lips.
“Excuse me,
Jonathon. I must go.”
He reached out
for her arm. She stilled beneath his touch. “Wait.”
“Why?”
He wasn’t sure
but he’d been unable to get this woman out of his mind since
their one date and night of shared passion. Jon felt a bit
out of control and it disturbed him. He liked neat, orderly,
controlled situations. Even in the courtroom, he was always
as prepared as he could be to ensure surprise didn’t take
him. She unsettled him, rattled him, but damn it, she
visited him every single night in his dreams. Now he had
her, he didn’t want to let her go.
“Let me take
you to dinner.” When she hesitated, he added, “We’ve been
out before.”
Her flush told
him she recalled exactly what had happened on that date. How
it had ended up—clothes strewn all over the floor and moans
the only sounds in the room.
“When?”
“Now, if you
can leave.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he ignored
it.
“Okay.”
Her soft,
lyrical voice had the power to make him crazy with lust. He
stared as she got to her feet and slid the bench in under
the piano. She wore charcoal grey slacks that hugged her
hips. As he observed her, he noticed she allowed her right
hand to be swallowed up by her sleeve until just her
unpolished nails were visible.
He waited for
her to gather her stuff and walked slightly behind her as
she made her way up to the door. Close enough so the gentle
scent of gardenia could be smelt and far enough to ogle the
natural, seductive sway of her hips.
They paused at
the door leading outside and stared at the continuing
downpour. He grumbled under his breath—getting soaked and
ruining his suit were not in the plans of the day. He
slanted a glance at Harmony and noticed the sparkle in her
eyes as she gazed out over the campus.
“Perhaps we
should wait it out,” he suggested.
Silent, she led
the way to a small sitting area. He claimed the chair across
from her. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.
“You’re
staring,” she mumbled.
“I’m sorry. I
can’t seem to help myself. You look so different than you
did…that night.”
A small smile
lifted one side of her mouth. “Teaching a music class is
hardly the place to wear a cocktail dress.”
He grinned
broadly. Perhaps not, but she’d looked damn good in it. “Why
didn’t you tell me you were coming to McKingley to teach?”
She pursed her
lips and glanced up when thunder rocked the building. “When
exactly would I have done that? During our bidding war over
the vase? Or after, in your hotel room?”
He flashed an
arrogant grin. “So you do remember.”
Her brown eyes
narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
Stretching out
his legs, he made sure to touch her foot with his, craving
the physical contact.
“I was here
giving lectures all day. Over at the law building.”
“That’s right,
you mentioned something about being an attorney.”
He was pleased
she remembered. “Yes. How long have you been teaching
music?”
She tensed, her
entire body did. Her right hand completely disappeared
inside her sleeve. Not for long, but he did notice.
“About a year
or so.”
There was a
story there. “Why were you so determined to get the vase?”
Her eyes sparked and he
realised he’d just erred. Grievously. “Just because I’m not
a lawyer doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate fine things.” |
