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.” |
