“An assistant. A companion.”
“And I’m not currently living up to your expectations?” My breath comes quicker now.
His eyes rove over me, his hand finding the small of my back again. “If you want to know what’s missing from the cadenza?—”
“Yes, I do,” I say too quickly.
“Good, then,” he grunts, pulling me into his arms. “But this does not mean I’ll attend the music festival. It does not mean I’ll approve of your performance, or even be there.”
“What does it mean?” My voice is a breathy whisper.
“That I can’t stop thinking about you. Since the moment you first arrived. That when you go, I want to keep something of you with me. A memory I can return to again and again.”
“I don’t have to go,” I say.
“No?” His forehead creases, eyes simmering, steady on me, never drifting to the window. “Don’t then.”
I nod, chest tightening.
His forehead drops to mine. “Are you sure?”
“More sure than you could possibly know.”
Emotion swirls behind his gaze. All that exists between us is breath and pulse. My legs shake, knees ready to buckle. He sweeps me off my feet, carrying me the length of the hallway, past the guest bedroom to his.
Chapter
Five
IVY
“If we do this,” he whispers. “It won’t be about Stephen or my ex-wife. Or even the concerto. It will be about you and me.”
“Yes.”
The bed dips where he sets me down, turning his back and rifling through the top drawer of his armoire. When he turns, holding my letter in his hand, his face is warm and bashful.
“Why did you say you burned it?”
“Because I should have,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Because the last thing I needed was to read it again and again. To feel your words haunt me… and to fall for the spaces between the words.” His brows furrow. “To fall for you.”
I blink, chest warming at his words. A dangerous sting behind my eyes.
“You must excuse me,” he whispers, kneeling in front of me. “But I’ve never done anything half-measured.”
He looks away.
I bring my hands up, palming his cheeks and forcing him to look at me. “And neither do I. That’s why I’m here.”
His hand comes up, stroking my upper thigh, his thumb rounding my flesh and rising higher with each pass. “And would you stay even if I never conduct or compose again? Even if I make you fulfill the announcement to a tee?”
“For the mail-order bride? I thought you said only the town thought that?”
“I tried to convince myself of that. But then you showed up on my doorstep.” He smiles darkly, adding after a pause, “Unless you think I should post to Mountain Mates after all?”
A tease that hits too close to home. My face reddens, voice too rough. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not, Ivy?” he murmurs.
