hadn’t heard a peep from the now MIA Styx, or the elusive Mr. Gunnarrson. She’d quite obviously been stuffed somewhere and forgotten about.
Irritation chewed at the susceptible spot between her brows. Nonetheless, that Steinway was calling to her, making her forget all about her irritation over a man who’d hounded her for two weeks, and then couldn’t be bothered to come meet her.
Alex hadn’t touched her fingertips to ivory in three long years. Would playing be like riding a bike…once you learned, you never forgot.
Shooting a guilty glance at the closed door, Alex ran her fingers experimentally over the keys.
Rich notes flooded the room, the pitch perfect 51
and true. She shivered with appreciation.
Drawing a steadying breath, she slid onto the bench, shot another guilty peek at the door, and positioned her fingers over the keys, half expecting bells and alarms to go off the second her fingers connected with those precious ivories.
She spent a moment running scales, reacquainting herself with the instrument before she lost herself in the music. Alex closed her eyes and let the music flow. As always, the classics came first, Mozart and Rachmaninoff and Debussy, and her favorite—Bach. As the triumphant strains of Fugue in G Minor trailed away, she drew another breath, and her fingers stilled.
Then, hesitant notes poured forth. Notes she’d written filled her, flowing out through her fingertips. She found herself humming, words she’d penned in another lifetime. But the memories became too bitter, and the music fell away on a discordant note.
Only then did Alex become aware she was no longer alone. She whi rled around, and her surprised gaze connected with the most compelling, sultry eyes she’d ever seen…eyes a startling, vivid shade of intense, furious blue. The face that went with those eyes was every bit as heart stopping.
Before she could utter a sound, the tall golden-haired stuff of erotic dreams stomped into the room, fury rolling from him in hot inescapable waves. His voice rang through the silence, compelling and dangerous.
“No one is allowed in here, and no one touches the piano.”
52
Chapter 5
Alex gazed at him slack-jawed, totally at a loss. The man acted as if she’d been caught elbow deep in a safe or something. Her wide-eyed, involuntary stare skated downward, over his ripped frame, and she couldn’t speak. Good Lord in heaven, he was gorgeous.
True, at present, he had a very strange, very concentrated look on his face, as if he were stripping away layers of her conscience, peering at her soul, but every ounce of him made her mouth water with greedy, astonishing hunger.
His long, tawny hair stuck out in wild disarray beneath a frayed and stained baseball cap. He wore a snug, oil-splattered muscle shirt that outlined sculpted muscles all the way down the length of his long, lean torso. His arms shifted, muscles bunched as he planted fists to hips, proudly displaying an impressive, intricate tribal tattoo that covered his right shoulder and stretched to his elbow.
Smears of motor oil stained ragged, faded jeans…jeans that hung enticingly low on his narrow waist. A pair of wrenches stuck out of his front pocket beside a greasy rag. The line of his strong jaw was bristled in golden stubble, and it, too, sported dark smudges. Alex’s heart stuttered and tripped inside her chest. She’d seen many, many attractive men in her life, but she’d never come across one who had the power to make her absolutely speechless just by being .
A fleeting image of this man brazenly wielding 53
a lethal sword, boldly riding the raging waves of a frigid sea on the decks of a Viking long ship came to mind. Something stark and savage lurked in his eyes…something that warranted extreme caution. The inexplicable sensation to run away washed through her again, stronger this time, even as her pulses hammered with excitement.
From somewhere deep inside, she dredged up the resolve
Irritation chewed at the susceptible spot between her brows. Nonetheless, that Steinway was calling to her, making her forget all about her irritation over a man who’d hounded her for two weeks, and then couldn’t be bothered to come meet her.
Alex hadn’t touched her fingertips to ivory in three long years. Would playing be like riding a bike…once you learned, you never forgot.
Shooting a guilty glance at the closed door, Alex ran her fingers experimentally over the keys.
Rich notes flooded the room, the pitch perfect 51
and true. She shivered with appreciation.
Drawing a steadying breath, she slid onto the bench, shot another guilty peek at the door, and positioned her fingers over the keys, half expecting bells and alarms to go off the second her fingers connected with those precious ivories.
She spent a moment running scales, reacquainting herself with the instrument before she lost herself in the music. Alex closed her eyes and let the music flow. As always, the classics came first, Mozart and Rachmaninoff and Debussy, and her favorite—Bach. As the triumphant strains of Fugue in G Minor trailed away, she drew another breath, and her fingers stilled.
Then, hesitant notes poured forth. Notes she’d written filled her, flowing out through her fingertips. She found herself humming, words she’d penned in another lifetime. But the memories became too bitter, and the music fell away on a discordant note.
Only then did Alex become aware she was no longer alone. She whi rled around, and her surprised gaze connected with the most compelling, sultry eyes she’d ever seen…eyes a startling, vivid shade of intense, furious blue. The face that went with those eyes was every bit as heart stopping.
Before she could utter a sound, the tall golden-haired stuff of erotic dreams stomped into the room, fury rolling from him in hot inescapable waves. His voice rang through the silence, compelling and dangerous.
“No one is allowed in here, and no one touches the piano.”
52
Chapter 5
Alex gazed at him slack-jawed, totally at a loss. The man acted as if she’d been caught elbow deep in a safe or something. Her wide-eyed, involuntary stare skated downward, over his ripped frame, and she couldn’t speak. Good Lord in heaven, he was gorgeous.
True, at present, he had a very strange, very concentrated look on his face, as if he were stripping away layers of her conscience, peering at her soul, but every ounce of him made her mouth water with greedy, astonishing hunger.
His long, tawny hair stuck out in wild disarray beneath a frayed and stained baseball cap. He wore a snug, oil-splattered muscle shirt that outlined sculpted muscles all the way down the length of his long, lean torso. His arms shifted, muscles bunched as he planted fists to hips, proudly displaying an impressive, intricate tribal tattoo that covered his right shoulder and stretched to his elbow.
Smears of motor oil stained ragged, faded jeans…jeans that hung enticingly low on his narrow waist. A pair of wrenches stuck out of his front pocket beside a greasy rag. The line of his strong jaw was bristled in golden stubble, and it, too, sported dark smudges. Alex’s heart stuttered and tripped inside her chest. She’d seen many, many attractive men in her life, but she’d never come across one who had the power to make her absolutely speechless just by being .
A fleeting image of this man brazenly wielding 53
a lethal sword, boldly riding the raging waves of a frigid sea on the decks of a Viking long ship came to mind. Something stark and savage lurked in his eyes…something that warranted extreme caution. The inexplicable sensation to run away washed through her again, stronger this time, even as her pulses hammered with excitement.
From somewhere deep inside, she dredged up the resolve
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