windows when Allie realized she
wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. She’d tossed and turned all night, waking
up as often as every hour. Always thinking of Mick.
She sat up, stretched, threw back the covers and picked up her robe, slipped it on.
She made her way into the kitchen, pausing to open up her laptop as she passed the
table before she started coffee brewing. She’d need it this morning. She sat down
and browsed through email while she waited for the coffeepot to finish.
She’d always loved the scent of coffee. It reminded her of her father. He’d always
been the first one up in the morning, making coffee for her mother before she left
to go to Dolcetti, the family bakery, at four a.m. It was her father who was there
to help her get ready for school, who made her breakfast, packed her lunch, even braided
her hair. Except when he was on tour—then her mother and her aunts would take turns
staying with her until it was time for school. But it was those mornings with her
father she had loved best.
Bertrand LeClair had been a brilliant concert pianist. She remembered music in the
house, always, whether it was him playing the old grand piano in his study she wasn’t
allowed into without his permission, or the symphonies and operas he’d listened to.
Her mother hadn’t been to the opera since her father died. She couldn’t bear it. But
Allie still adored the opera her father had taught her to love.
She got up when the coffeepot beeped and poured herself a cup, took it back to the
table and clicked into her music library, opened her favorite recording of
Lakmé
. It was a sad opera about ill-fated lovers. She’d often thought of herself and Mick
as Lakmé and Gérald. Not that she planned to kill herself, like the poor, grieving
Lakmé. It was simply that sense of impossibility that had haunted her for so long.
She’d accepted it all these years. But no more. Mick Reid was going to give her one
more chance whether he liked it or not. She would do her best to see that he did.
It was in her, that need to please. It always had been. She’d never understood what
it was when Mick whispered the words
good girl
in her ear, all those years ago. She’d only known it had made her shiver.
God, to hear him say that to her again . . .
A small shudder went through her, leaving goose bumps all over her skin.
She shook herself. She couldn’t sit there mooning over him all day. She had work to
do.
She fired off an email to Jamie reminding him to ask his brother to call her about
doing the repairs on the house, then opened up the business plan she’d spent months
putting together to expand the family business. Her mother and aunts would be hard
cases, she knew, but she’d always had so many ideas, andnow she had the training and experience in the field to back it up. Maybe this time
they wouldn’t turn her down.
Two cups of coffee and two hours later, her cell phone rang. She got up and picked
it up off the counter, smiling when she saw her best friend’s name on the screen.
“Marie Dawn, you’re up early.”
“Neal had an early shift at the firehouse—I’ve been up since five. I didn’t want to
wake you, but I’m dying to know how things went yesterday. I got your message but
I couldn’t call you back. I was taking care of
grand-mère
until late last night.”
She poured herself another cup of coffee and stood at the counter with it. “It’s no
problem, hon. And I’ve been up since six myself. I couldn’t sleep. Too much on my
mind.”
“Let me guess what that might be.”
“You don’t exactly have to be a mind reader.”
“So, tell me everything,” Marie Dawn prompted.
“Well . . .” She paused, sipped her coffee. “. . . He was pissed.”
“As we expected him to be.
Continue
.”
“I’m really glad Jamie was there. It helped, even if it was mostly to give us both
something else to focus on. And why
wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. She’d tossed and turned all night, waking
up as often as every hour. Always thinking of Mick.
She sat up, stretched, threw back the covers and picked up her robe, slipped it on.
She made her way into the kitchen, pausing to open up her laptop as she passed the
table before she started coffee brewing. She’d need it this morning. She sat down
and browsed through email while she waited for the coffeepot to finish.
She’d always loved the scent of coffee. It reminded her of her father. He’d always
been the first one up in the morning, making coffee for her mother before she left
to go to Dolcetti, the family bakery, at four a.m. It was her father who was there
to help her get ready for school, who made her breakfast, packed her lunch, even braided
her hair. Except when he was on tour—then her mother and her aunts would take turns
staying with her until it was time for school. But it was those mornings with her
father she had loved best.
Bertrand LeClair had been a brilliant concert pianist. She remembered music in the
house, always, whether it was him playing the old grand piano in his study she wasn’t
allowed into without his permission, or the symphonies and operas he’d listened to.
Her mother hadn’t been to the opera since her father died. She couldn’t bear it. But
Allie still adored the opera her father had taught her to love.
She got up when the coffeepot beeped and poured herself a cup, took it back to the
table and clicked into her music library, opened her favorite recording of
Lakmé
. It was a sad opera about ill-fated lovers. She’d often thought of herself and Mick
as Lakmé and Gérald. Not that she planned to kill herself, like the poor, grieving
Lakmé. It was simply that sense of impossibility that had haunted her for so long.
She’d accepted it all these years. But no more. Mick Reid was going to give her one
more chance whether he liked it or not. She would do her best to see that he did.
It was in her, that need to please. It always had been. She’d never understood what
it was when Mick whispered the words
good girl
in her ear, all those years ago. She’d only known it had made her shiver.
God, to hear him say that to her again . . .
A small shudder went through her, leaving goose bumps all over her skin.
She shook herself. She couldn’t sit there mooning over him all day. She had work to
do.
She fired off an email to Jamie reminding him to ask his brother to call her about
doing the repairs on the house, then opened up the business plan she’d spent months
putting together to expand the family business. Her mother and aunts would be hard
cases, she knew, but she’d always had so many ideas, andnow she had the training and experience in the field to back it up. Maybe this time
they wouldn’t turn her down.
Two cups of coffee and two hours later, her cell phone rang. She got up and picked
it up off the counter, smiling when she saw her best friend’s name on the screen.
“Marie Dawn, you’re up early.”
“Neal had an early shift at the firehouse—I’ve been up since five. I didn’t want to
wake you, but I’m dying to know how things went yesterday. I got your message but
I couldn’t call you back. I was taking care of
grand-mère
until late last night.”
She poured herself another cup of coffee and stood at the counter with it. “It’s no
problem, hon. And I’ve been up since six myself. I couldn’t sleep. Too much on my
mind.”
“Let me guess what that might be.”
“You don’t exactly have to be a mind reader.”
“So, tell me everything,” Marie Dawn prompted.
“Well . . .” She paused, sipped her coffee. “. . . He was pissed.”
“As we expected him to be.
Continue
.”
“I’m really glad Jamie was there. It helped, even if it was mostly to give us both
something else to focus on. And why
Similar Books
