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her
body almost pressed to his. “You are too cute when you get
flustered.”
He reached for her hands before she could back away.
“You’re a forward one, aren’t you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, I’m just not used to it. I’m a classical musician. I
don’t attract women’s attention too often.”
“I’m a classical musician and I’m a woman. And when
I see something I like I go after it.” She seductively bit her
lip. “And I like you.”
She moved up closer to him and his entire body
stiffened as if to put up the wall he so desperately needed
between them. “What is it you want, Carissa Kendal?”
“I don’t know yet. Does that scare you?”
“Scares the hell out of me.”
Her smile widened. “Well, by the pace of your heart . .
.” She looked down at her hands that rested on his chest.
“I’d say there’s a mutual attraction.”
“I’ll go with that.”
“And as I’m very selective with whom I share myself,
don’t think I’ll be racing into your bed.”
“Carissa, I didn’t mean to assume that . . .”
She raised her finger to his lips. “But I’m certainly not
one to take too much time either. You forget I watched a
man wait ten years for the woman he loves. One thing I’m
not is patient.” Her lashes fluttered and his heart skipped
another beat.
Thank, God, he thought.
She stepped back and winked. “Well, we’ve come a
long way in a few days. I guess above all we need to realize
we still have to work with each other.”
“True.” Though he wondered how well it could go
when she wouldn’t even listen to his ideas.
“My business is too important to me to have something
like a relationship with a coworker ruin it. My life is here in
Kansas City, and my family, and now my business. I may
not like to wait for things I want, but I don’t like change
much either.”
Thomas swallowed the lump of fear that lodged in his
throat by her words. No matter what happened between
them there would be change.
“Let’s start by walking.” She grabbed his hand and
interlaced their fingers. “And talking.”
“Talking?”
“Tell me who you are, Thomas Samuel.” She turned
her head toward him and narrowed her eyes. “And don’t
leave anything out.”
If her forwardness hadn’t ramped up his heart rate, her
words would have. Where did he start? Did he start by
telling her he was knocked around by his father until he
was sixteen? That his father was an abusive drunk bastard
that finally killed one of his children in the fury of anger?
Or did she want to hear how, after Pablo came out of the
closet and he didn’t have a job, he’d become an alcoholic
like his father. That he’d almost killed himself and Pablo’s
lover Pierre one night in Paris? Is that what she wanted to
know?
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s pretty simple, isn’t it?”
He wished it were.
“Do you want the basics like my birthday is January
fourth? I’m thirty-three years old. You already know I’ve
played the piano since I was three. Before moving here,
which you also know I did only Thursday,” he joked, trying
to keep the conversation as light as possible, “I resided in a
dinky apartment just outside of Rome.” He took his free
hand and ran it through his hair. He really needed a haircut.
“I didn’t stick around to graduate high school. Not
traditionally at least. But Pablo made sure I had a high
school diploma.”
“You graduated high school in Italy?” He nodded.
“Pretty cool.”
He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Where were you born?”
“Maryland.”
“First teacher’s name?”
“Mrs. Norton.”
“Color of your first bike.”
“Fire engine red.”
“Name of your first pet.”
“Didn’t have one.”
She stopped and faced him. “Neither did I.”
It was as if that was their connection. He squeezed his
eyes shut. It was going to get too complicated too quickly,
he could tell. Perhaps he should talk to Sophia about
everything. He needed to make some