She tapped the offending note. “I think you’re missing an accidental.”
“Good catch.”
He scribbled in a sharp symbol next to the note and tilted the paper back towards her. She hummed through it again, this time all the way through.
“I like it. Much moreWest Wingtheme song than John Phillips Sousa march.”
Noah smirked, making a few other adjustments to the piece. “I was going for Copland, but I’ll take it.”
“I’m pretty sure the theme song was influenced by Copland. All those perfect fourths.”
“Does it soundtoo muchlike Copland,” he asked, frowning at the notes on the page.
She considered the piece for a minute, humming through it again. “Can I try something?” she asked, taking his pencil. She wrote a handful of notes on a clean line of the staff paper, just a few bars, then handed the pencil back to Noah. “What if you do something like that at the end of the second phrase before you resolve the chord?” Noah hummed through the piece with her addition. “Just something a little unexpected, you know?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” he said, smiling.
“We make a good team,” she said more casually than she felt. Composing with him again, even just a few notes, was such a high. She hadn’t realized quite how much she’d missed it.
Noah set aside his staff paper and his pencil. “What do you want to do today? We could head into town. See if there’s anything interesting to do.”
Callie thought of the lingerie shop, of the strappy lace contraption in her suitcase.
“We could stay here.” She let the sheet slip a little further and dragged her hand up his arm.
Noah smirked. He leaned in and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Get dressed, Calico. We’re not spending the whole day in bed.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Noah Van Aller?” She laughed, giving him an appreciative once over when he stood up, all tan skin and coarse hair.
He chuckled, the sound dark and full of promises she hoped he intended to make good on. He leaned close, and traced one finger around her nipple until it hardened beneath his too-gentle touch.
“If we spend all day in this bed, then you’re not going to be able to walk down that aisle tomorrow.” He pinched the stiff peak, a sudden bolt of electricity blooming from the spot, making her yelp in surprise. He grinned. “So let’s go find something to do with our clothesonbefore I forget that I’m a goddamn gentleman.”
Chapter 18
Callie buried her nose in the spine of the old book and inhaled deeply, the smell of the yellowed paper familiar and comforting.
“What are you doing?” Noah asked, the corner of his mouth tipped up.
“Smell this.” She held the book out to him.
“I’m good.” He put up a hand to hold her at bay.
“Come on. Just a little whiff.”
His brows drew low, but he leaned forward and took a quick sniff of the book. “It smells like old paper.”
“Isn’t it great?” Callie beamed.
“No. It smells like old paper.”
She sighed, adding the book to the stack tucked under her arm. “Philistine.”
“What did you just call me?” he asked, his eyes wide, sparkling with restrained laughter.
“Philistine,” she repeated slowly. “It means—”
“I know what it means.”
