“Good night, Zane.” She loved saying his name. So masculine. So strong.Crap. She was turning into a romantic ninny.
* * *
She hurried to the kitchen.Wow! It was spotless. While she was busy upstairs, Zane had loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters. Leftovers were in the fridge and a quick peek confirmed that he’d rinsed the plates. A happy glow skittered through her at his thoughtful gesture.
Grinning widely, she carried on into the laundry room, which was perfectly located for easy access, just off the kitchen. It separated her small living area from the rest of the B&B.Dang, she’d forgotten to tell him where to find her if he needed anything in the night.Tomorrow. She’d do that tomorrow.
She checked the tags of his laundry, ensuring everything was washable. Luckily, they were all equally dark, even his adorable happy face covered boxer briefs. She fanned heat away from her face. She would not think about Zane Ryder in his underwear. Nope. No way. And she would not imagine him lying, half naked, on the forest green and gold quilt she’d spread across his bed.
“Get a grip. He’s your guest.” Try as she might, she couldn’t wash away the fantasy vision. Laundry started. Zane’s in one washer, towels in another, she headed for the kitchen. Her workday wasn’t over yet. She had laundry to finish and email to check.
At the check-in desk, she confirmed a reservation for later in the week and returned a couple emails before tiptoeing upstairs and listening outside Zane’s door. She felt sneaky and dishonest doing so, but she wanted to be certain he was asleep. Silence met her ears and she skipped lightly back downstairs and uncovered the piano keys.
It didn’t look like much, but the battered old instrument played beautifully. She’d had it tuned as soon as she uncovered it from a mountain of junk. She’d moved it from the library to the common room, thinking guests might use it.
She ran a few quick scales to limber her fingers before giving into the music calling her. Without sheet music, which she rarely needed because she memorized music after a single play through, she started playing. Für Elise was first, followed by Waltz of the Butterfly. She floated through several pieces from The Nutcracker ballet, her favorite holiday movie. She loved the movies, and the ballet. She had several versions of the story as well. Written for children and adults. She closed her eyes and played; visions of ballerinas danced in her head.
Unbidden, the melody morphed into the one playing in her head. An unnamed song inspired by Zane. Light and tripping with a hard, almost secretive edge. Clara played the notes as they came, memorizing them as she went.
She slipped deeper and deeper into the music, almost going into a trance. She played the partial tune over and over, adding a note here and there. Tweaking and refining the melody. It might take days to find the rest, but she nailed down this part. Eventually, it might end up on the music site she used to distribute her creations. People could purchase the rights to use them in video trailers or advertisements. She wasn’t earning much revenue, but she’d long since concluded that if she was creating, she might as well share. Her hands stilled on the keys, the relentless pressure of Zane’s inspiration easing off. She felt joyous for having created something new after months of nothing, but she also felt sad that the pressure had eased. The burst of inspiration was much too short.
“That was incredible.”
“What?” She whirled round, nearly flipping the piano bench in her haste. “What are you doing out of bed?”
Zane laughed, the sound inspiring another, more complicated, melody. “You mentioned water and juice earlier. When I heard you playing, I popped down to see if I could get some. It’s fascinating how that melody changed as you played it.”
“Um. Yeah.” Heat rose in her face, and she picked at a bit of loose skin beside her thumbnail. “It’s a work in progress. I do a bit of playing sometimes.”
It was more than simply playing around. Creating music soothed her. Clara had no desire to be a superstar, she’d been content as a studio musician, backing up some big names in country and rock. Music was in her soul, performing publicly was not. After fourteen years of piano lessons, it was a difference her father had never understood. He’d gone from thinking the lessons were a waste of money to complaining that she was wasting her talent when she could have a solo musical career or perform with the symphony. Her heart told her her passion didn’t need to be her career. It was a decision she’d stood firm on, despite her father’s demeaning comments.
She worried that becoming a public musician with the glory and all the trappings would kill that passion and turn it into drudgery. Her music was a private source of joy.
“That piece might be a work in progress, but I enjoyed listening to it. Thanks for sharing it with me, even if you didn’t realize I was here.”
“Could you let me know you’re here next time?” She didn’t put her music up for sale until she’d perfected it. The creation process was private, and she worried he’d see too much if he were around for it. She should get a keyboard and headphones for her suite if she wanted to compose while guests were around.
“I’ll do that. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“Sorry if I woke you. I’m used to being alone in the house.” Heat rose in her cheeks. “Let me get that water for you.” She jumped up and raced into the kitchen and snatched two bottles of water from the cupboard. She turned around and he was right behind her. She thrust the water at him. He grabbed them in one hand and touched her wrist with his other hand before she could move away. She jerked back from the hot electric touch.
“Sorry if I interrupted something private. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. The music was breathtaking. I heard it upstairs, it called me down. You play beautifully. You have a gift.”
“Thank you.” Darn it, she was blushing again. Zane had a way of knocking her off balance with his words. “Anyway, I’m finished for the evening. If you need anything, I’ll be in there.” She jabbed a thumb toward the hallway leading to her suite. Have a nice evening.”
Zane stared at her for several seconds before nodding. “Thanks for the water. Please put it on my bill. Have a good evening. Sleep well, Miss Clara.” His smile was soft as he turned away, making her wonder what he was thinking.
He strode away, his broad shoulders and narrow hips holding her gaze until he was out of sight. She followed his footsteps up the stairs, down the hall and into his room. Only when his door closed did she puff out the breath she was holding.
What should she do about him? He snuck up on her, catching her unaware too many times. It wasn’t creepy, or anything like that, it was unnerving. As were his compliments and the unexpected kindnesses, such as cleaning up after dinner.
She hadn’t dated much. After living with a negative father who had influenced her life in a bad way, she hadn’t seen the appeal. Zane Ryder was a different type of man altogether and he was making her understand why her city girlfriends had been eager to catch a man. There was a definite appeal to a helpful, complimentary man. A man like her cousins, the Flints.
She hugged herself in a glow of gratitude for Riley and Robert’s help, and for Zane’s help and praise. All in all, it had been a good day and she knew just how to thank them all.
She rummaged in the freezer until she located four packages of the frozen cinnamon buns she’d prepped for early breakfasts. She buttered her baking pans and set the buns out to defrost and rise. By tomorrow morning, she’d have two dozen delicious sticky treats to serve for breakfast and to deliver to her relatives. Time with Aunt Sue would steady her.
