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She still didn’t understand why he was interested in her. Why he had kissed her...
Whywashe interested in her? He was handsome and charismatic and could have any woman he wanted.
Why her?
He knew where she worked... what she was.
It didn’t make any sense.
But she liked it.
A melody drifted down the stairs and she gently lay the violin in its case and crept to the stairway to listen. Mark was playing the Mendelssohn concerto2she’d woken with in her mind. She sat down on the platform halfway up the stairs, rested her chin on her hands, and closed her eyes, letting the music soothe her soul. The piece always reminded her of a lullaby, though a grown-up one. She heard the orchestral part in her head, filling in the gaps in his playing.
As a teen, she’d dreamed of playing this piece with a professional orchestra at the Kennedy Center.
Was it part of the DCSO’s program this season? Oh, she wished she could hear Mark playing it live. Hearing him play it anywhere, even in his home, was amazing. But on stage, with an orchestra? She shook her head at the idea of such a thought.
Her childhood love of music was crawling out from the dark closet she’d shoved it into when she ran away from Juilliard, squinting in this bright new light of hope. She was alive again. And though she didn’t dare to dream she’d ever play professionally, just being around the music again, playing again, gave her such a light heart, she felt as if she could fly.
She was free. Here, in Mark’s home, surrounded by music. Even the paintings and photos were laden with music and musical ideas.
She sighed, content for the first time in as long as she could remember.
The concerto drew to a close and the house grew silent. She opened her eyes and looked upstairs when a door opened above her. Mark smiled down at her. “Done already?”
“My finger started bleeding again,” she said, holding up her left hand. She bit her lip. “I’m afraid I may have gotten some blood on the violin.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He smiled and walked down the stairs. “What are you doing on the stairs?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Listening to you.”
He stopped when he reached the platform and held out his hand to pull her to her feet. He tilted his head. “You look different.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, you look... happy.”
She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. “I think I am.”
“Why?”
She motioned around the house. “This is an amazing place.”
He chuckled. “It’s just my house.”
“But it’s full of music. It’s wonderful.”
* * *
Emily’s eyessparkled as she waved her hands in the air. His heart pounded like a teenage boy’s looking at his high school crush and he didn’t mind at all. Seeing Emily come alive was like seeing the blue sky peeking out from the clouds after a terrible thunderstorm. Her whole body was animated and her smile entranced him.
If this happened after just playing twice, what would she be like in a month? Six months? A year? He could only imagine the changes and it thrilled him to know he played a part in it. The passion in her eyes matched what he felt when he played.
A phone rang and he assumed it was hers since he didn’t recognize the ringtone. Her face fell and her eyes dulled as she turned and ran down the stairs to answer it. She only spoke a few words, but he could hear the angry voice coming from the speaker. When she dropped the phone back into her purse, she stared at it for a long time, head hung, then turned to face him, blinking back tears. “I have to go.”
He hurried down the stairs, his heart breaking at the loss of life in her demeanor. “Emily...”
She gave her head a quick shake. “I have to work the lunch shift. One of the girls called in sick. At least—” she pressed her lips together.
