“True. Bach is like math for music. How do you feel about Rachmaninoff?”
“Love it, but I can’t play it.” She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers. “My hands are too small.”
“True. I’ve got the reach for it. Guess I’ll go play for my dinner.”
He wandered out of the kitchen and moments later, the most beautiful strains of a Chopin etude rang out, the hardwood floors carrying the sound into the kitchen. So flawless was the execution, she tiptoed to the living room doorway to be certain it wasn’t a recording. She could only see his back, but even so, his body projected the intense emotion of the song. With a sigh of contentment, she went back to her work.
“I think I owe him the best chicken enchiladas of his life.”
“Best enchiladas ever,” he declared, as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Her pleased smile was like a reward.
“It’s because I had the most inspiring music to work by.”
“Now where’s that pie you mentioned?” His mouth was already watering at the thought. “What kind is it?”
“It’s a chocolate pecan pie, but I can’t believe you have room for dessert after all the enchiladas you ate.”
He patted his flat stomach. “If this body has given me one blessing, it’s the ability to eat as much as I want without getting fat. Though I haven’t exercised in five days, and I can already feel the difference.”
“Not me. I can just look at food and gain weight.”
“You look good to me.” The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them, and she ducked her chin.
That sounded like flirting. You’re supposed to be buddies, remember?
Fortunately, Laurie lightened the mood. “Thanks. You’re not too bad either… for an old guy.”
“An old guy?”
She stood and began to gather the dishes from the table. “I’m only twenty-eight. You’re in your thirties, right? That makes you old, as far as I’m concerned.” Her mouth twitched at the corners.
“I’m only five years older than you.” He picked up two serving dishes and followed her into the kitchen.
“Five years can be a lifetime. That’s how long it’s been since…” Her voice trailed off.
“Since what? What were you going to say?”
“Since I graduated from college.”
He sensed this wasn’t the event she was originally referring to, but he didn’t push. In a short time, the dishes were done and leftovers put away.
“I should be going. I’ll leave the pie here for you.” She tucked a stray curly strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze aimed at the floor by her feet. “You need to get your rest.”
She was right. It was already late, and he hadn’t started his nighttime CF routine. Yet he wasn’t ready for her to go.
“We should go over a few work details first,” he said, thinking he could talk her into pie afterwards. “Let me grab my laptop and we’ll sit on the couch.”
The ploy worked, and thirty minutes later they were relaxing on the couch, having settled on an order of events for the fundraiser event, only differing slightly from the previous year. They sat side by side, though she carefully preserved a space between them—an invisible wall. Yet the space did nothing to block the intoxicating scent emanating from her skin and hair, fresh and citrusy. Every minute they spent together made him crave more. And tonight, her love and appreciation for piano music had tipped him over the edge.
I like this woman.
It had happened, as he’d always feared. The smart thing to do was to stay far, far away from Laurie Fields. But, like a kid fascinated with fire, he wanted to get closer, despite the risk of being burned.
“By the way,” he asked, “have you reserved the company jet for us?”
“The jet?” She blinked rapidly.
“Phantom Enterprises owns one. Most of the time it’s transporting kids and families across the country for treatment, but we use it from time to time. It may be too late, since the event is only three weeks away. Sometimes we lease one for a few days at a time.”
She studied her fingernails, her hands fidgeting. “I was planning to take the train. Save some money. I figure every little bit we save in expenses helps the kids.”
“Oh...” His gut churned. He hated admitting his weakness. “I try to spend as little time as possible in confined spaces with a lot of people. I can fly commercial and wear a mask. But… if people recognize me, I feel like—”
“Gracious! I’m so sorry.” Her right hand came down over his left, a thoughtless gesture that set his heart thudding against his ribs. She babbled on, unaware of his pending cardiac episode. “I wasn’t thinking about traveling with CF. Of course, it would be better for you to fly on a private jet.”
He gently laid his right hand on top of her fingers, nodding as she continued her speech, while he concentrated on the incredible soft texture of her skin.
“I didn’t mean to imply there was anything wrong with you flying in a private jet,” she said. “I could still travel by train and save us some money, though.”
“If I’m flying in a private jet, it won’t cost us any extra for you to fly with me.” He trailed his fingers up the back of her hand, swirling a circle across her tendons. He noted, with satisfaction, when her eyes blinked closed, opening slowly to half-mast.
She snatched her hand away, locking her fingers together in her lap. “But I have to go early… Dara said she goes up about a week before Jarrett does.”
Her lower lip trembled, and suddenly his eyes were riveted. He imagined how it would feel to press his mouth to hers, to caress those delectable lips. Were they as soft and supple as they looked?
It was foolish. He knew better. It could never work. He was only setting both of them up for pain and heartache. He absolutely, positively, could not allow himself to kiss her. He had to exercise self-control.
