Kassidy's Crescendo by Marianne Evans Page B

within the chamber of his heart, releasing into his spirit. Drew readily imagined the sound of a deep, satisfied chuckle riding downward to earth from heaven above.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

5
     
    It was after eleven thirty by the time Kassidy worked free of costuming, hair accessories, makeup, and a short performance debrief. While team members scrutinized snippets of show video, Kassidy’s attention kept sliding toward Drew, who leaned against the far wall of the green room, arms folded loosely against his chest, ankles crossed.
    At last Liam dismissed the cast and crew. While team members exited the theater, Drew sidled forward, holding Kassidy’s gaze. “You still game for that coffee and dessert you mentioned earlier?”
    “Of course.”
    “Good, because I touched base with the hotel concierge. He told me there’s a place called Cleo’s that serves incredible handmade pies, and they’re open twenty-four-seven.”
    He had taken the lead. Like a suitor. How chivalrous and charming. “That sounds perfect. Thanks for the effort. After the calories I expended during tonight’s show, I’ve earned the right to indulge, no matter what Elizabeth Portier might think.”
    Drew took her hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm. Kassidy synched her footfalls to his while they strode from the performance facility.
    “Have I discovered the one person on earth who strikes fear into the heart of Kassidy Cartwright?”
    Kassidy nodded in earnest. “Absolutely.”
    His answering laugh tickled her tummy, made her smile just because the sound was so delicious. Following a short walk, they entered a quaint, brightly lit bistro-style eatery. The shop specialized in sweet treats accompanied by gourmet coffees and teas. The aromas alone left Kassidy to sigh with bliss. Warmth inside chased away every trace of autumn’s wind-swept arrival through the streets of Denver.
    Drew seated her at a round, wooden table for two. “What’s your favorite pie?”
    Kassidy slipped out of her jacket and unwound a long, fluffy scarf of Kelly green from around her neck. “It’s a toss-up, really. Strawberry and peach.” She smiled into his eyes. “Surprise me.”
    “That can be arranged, KC.”
    The teasing rejoinder, the smooth timber of his voice combined to give Kassidy a case of goose bumps that had nothing to do with the chilly temps they had just left behind. Additionally, his inaugural use of her nickname both charmed and piqued.
    He returned carrying a tray outfitted with two decaf French vanilla lattes, a slice of strawberry crème and a slice of peach. The scoundrel.
    “We’ll mix and match.” He dropped into the chair across from hers. He scooted a bit closer, so they were side-by-side rather than face to face. He leaned against the table, watching while she took a sip of her beverage and claimed the first bite of peach.
    The intensity of his regard left her tingling—delightfully off balance. “What? Do I already have a whipped-cream mustache or something?”
    “No. It’s just…I like watching you. Sorry.”
    “Don’t apologize. I’m flattered. Disconcerted, but flattered.”
    “Disconcerted?” Drew met her gaze straight on. “Join the club.”
    She propped an elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. She itched to reach out and caress the curve of his chin, to dance her fingertips against his cheek. As adrenaline drained away and exhaustion escalated, her defenses became weak.
    After an inhale and an exhale, she moved slightly away from temptation. “I’m always so wired after a show. It feels good to unwind. Thanks for this.”
    “Thanks for suggesting it. How were the radio interviews this afternoon?”
    “The one at KJCD was awesome. They’re the Christian station in town, and they’ve been playing three selections off the album—Friends, The Story of Us, and El Shaddai. The DJ told us El Shaddai is climbing their weekly countdown at a fast clip.”
    “I’m not at all surprised, but