“Clearly.”
She lifted her chin and poked my pec. Like a pebble thrown against a rock face, I didn’t react. “You don’t scare me,” she whispered.
“I should.”
“You think because you grumble and wear a mask that you can intimidate me?”
“No.” I stopped my tactic and used my work voice. “But as your Maestro and composer, you should show some respect.” Her jaw swayed in the wind, so I kept talking. “And how would you like it if I came up to you and tried to take off your shirt?”
“That’s hardly the same,” she said with haughty disdain.
“It’s not?”
“No, you’re half naked and—” A blush burned her cheeks as she spoke.
“Because I’m not fully dressed, I deserve your unwanted touches?”
As soon as the words processed, her face drained off color and her shoulders slumped. Okay, maybe I’d gone too far, but I had a point to prove.
“No, I would never blame … I wasn’t trying—”
“I know you weren’t,” I said to take away some of the pain I inflicted.
Her brows drew together in seriousness. She took a deep breath as she stepped back. The cool air rushed in between us, immediately leaving me surprisingly cold.
“I’m sorry.” Her focus shifted to the floor. “You’re right. I apologize, Maestro.”
The words cut as they’d intended to. I had gone too far. I was still learning the balance of authority without hurting people. Typically, I failed. This was why face-to-face conversations were troublesome.
“You can call me Devlin.” I glanced to the side. I didn’t want animosity between us. I only wanted boundaries. “While we’re here. Away from everyone at work.”
“Okay. Why do you call me Kim?”
I knew what she was really asking—how I knew her as Kim and not Christine—but I played dumb. “Tell me what I should call you.”
She hesitated. “Christine is fine.” She lifted her hands to smooth her ponytail. “Or Kim. It doesn’t matter. I answer to both. But honestly, whatever. You pick.” She laughed nervously.
“What do you prefer?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t care.”
“Pick one.” Her indecisiveness was frustrating. If she was going to help me, she had to learn to stand up to me. I stepped closer.
She stepped back. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Kim or Christine?” Closer.
Back. “Fine. Kim. Kim is good.”
“Wasn’t that hard, was it?”
But it was for her. Her chest heaved up and down and the exposed skin at her neck was splotchy with stress. The same as it had been when she had performed her solo. Even her eyes were glossy. I’d gone too far once again. I felt like a jackass. I had only been trying to get her to pushmeback.
“I’m sorry—” I stepped forward to comfort her.
The action had her lurching back again, but she had reached the end of the short platform. Her heel was off the edge. Her arms wind-milled for purchase where there was none. In slow motion, she started to fall backward. I reached out as her arms shot forward to wrap around my neck. Our bodies slammed together. You couldn’t slide a piece of paper between us.
“Oh dear!” Her hands shot to her mouth, causing her to fall back again. I had to twist with her in my arms to keep us both from losing purchase. Her face buried into my chest to hide. I thought her humiliation was the reason, but after a second, her shoulders began to shake and it seemed alarmingly like …
