ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories) by Michelle Woodward Page A

caught hers, she uncrossed and crossed her long, dark legs sensuously, and stroked one finger against the pebbly surface of her evening bag.  When she looked back at him, there was a real smile on his face, one that did not come and go this time.
                  The song ended, and it was followed by another, something from Cage the Elephants, a song with a far harder edge, and the sudden change from classic to rock thrilled her.  She associated personality with music, and the loping, rapid beat of the song played on her skin just as surely as the pianist’s smile had.   A few minutes later, the song came to a close, and so, apparently, did his work evening.  From beneath the piano bench, he pulled a folder full of sheet music and put away the songs he had played that night.  He was just sliding the folder into a black messenger bag when Mackie gathered up the boldness to approach him.
                  “I found myself wondering,” she said to him, leaning on one elbow against the creamy Grand, “what manner of man plays Sinatra and a song that normalizes prostitution in the same breath?”  Good Lord, alcohol was liquid courage, indeed.
                  “And I found myself wondering what manner of woman manages to find the self-assurance to watch a man she doesn’t know so openly,” he answered her, eyes twinkling with humor.  His face was not what she expected.  It was craggy, as if hewn from rock, with a prominent Roman nose, dipping just a touch in the center.  His mouth looked like it was carved from deeply hued quartz, a man’s mouth, a mouth that looked like it enjoyed whiskey and kissing breasts. 
                  “The kind of woman who likes her classical with a hint of badassery,” Mackie replied, enjoying the contours of his face a great deal.
                  He chuckled, and the sound was deep and engaging; it made her want to take another step closer to him, so she did.
                  “And what does such a woman do for a living?  A photographer, a collector of images?”
                  “A ballerina.”
                  His eyebrows spiked.  “A ballerina, really?”  His warm brown eyes traveled down the length of her body, dancing along the midnight blue velvet, warming her skin.  She noted that his accent was different, belonging distinctly to neither country she had guess he was from earlier.  She strained to get a look at his nametag, because all King Royal employees had their country of origin printed below their name. 
                  Mici (it read)
                  And below,
                  Romania .
                  “Have you always wanted to be a pianist, Mici from Romania?” she asked.
                  “No.  I hated piano when I was little, but my parents, God bless them, made me practice anyway.  You can imagine that now—“here he gestured around him at the middy lights of the lounge, “I am quite glad they did.  I came here with a degree from the conservatory, and now I get to see the warmest places in the world.”
                  “Cold in Romania?” Though the remark may have been the hallmark of small talk everywhere, the way they were looking at each other was the hallmark of unmistakable attraction.  He was a largely built man, square in body and heavily muscled in the upper body.  He had the looks best associated with the roguish characters in smutty historical romance novels, the kind of brute power about him that made women swoon and try desperately to reform him. 
                  “Yes,” he answered, eyes snagging on her mouth.  “But I find it’s always much warmer whenever there’s a beautiful woman around.”
                  Mackie blushed.  She actually blushed.  Damn the man.  Her naughty working vacation had just been kicked up a