by Holmes, Dee
“Just two. I feel floaty and relaxed and—” She looked at him and swore his face drifted by and returned before she could blink. “Did I say something to embarrass you?”
“Of course not.”
“Still like me?”
“Big time.”
“I still like you.”
“Good.”
“Are we going to bed?”
“I only wish.” Then he dropped a quick kiss on her tingly mouth. “Later. Now we’re going to walk and get you sober. Mavis is looking for you.” In the distance came the sound of someone banging on a piano.
“The piano?” For a second, she scowled. Then, “Oh, God, she wants me to play, doesn’t she?” She stopped walking, eyes wide, hands coming up to her cheeks. Then she took a deep breath. “Do I have to?”
“Nope.”
“You’re always so agreeable.”
“Yep.”
She danced a few steps ahead of him and turned around, her swirling sundress revealing her tanned legs. In the next instant she was in his arms. “I’ll play on one condition.”
“Okay.”
“You have to kiss me.” She hiccuped and then giggled.
He drew her close and kissed her, deliberately, provocatively and filling her with an assurance of deeper, sexier kisses to come. His mouth was more dizzying than the drinks she’d had.
“I have a condition, too.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll always be as happy as you are right now.”
She went very still, her eyes shimmering, her hands climbing up his shirt to slide over his shoulders. It was okay. Everything was okay. Nothing could be wrong when it felt so right. “Will you sit beside me when I play?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll be happy.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
AN HOUR LATER, totally sober and more than a little unnerved, Kathleen was in exactly the place she’d tried to avoid for months—the center of attention. Her audience, which had begun as just Mavis and Janet and a few stragglers who had come in from the deck to listen, had grown to include the entire cookout guest list. With all of them gathered around the gleaming baby grand, and Booth seated on the slippery bench beside her, Kathleen felt as if she’d been thrust into the spotlight of a sold-out private concert.
Her fingers moved across the keys more naturally than they had in weeks, and she surprised herself by how easily she slid into the role of performer—professional, accessible, and glorying in her ability to give her audience what they wanted.
Sheet music gave way to memory and the complex chords she’d learned from her mother. Favorites were requested as she moved effortlessly from the classics to songs from The Sound of Music, to rock, to hits from the eighties, finishing with a request for Jimmy Buffett’s hit “Margaritaville.”
All the while Booth sat beside her, sliding out of her way as her hands moved up and down the keyboard.
The applause after the final song was loud and enthusiastic, with two encores requested. Someone placed a glass of iced tea in her hand, and Lisa toddled over to bang on the keys, making everyone laugh.
“Where did you ever learn to play like that?” an overperfumed woman asked, triggering more questions and comments from the others.
“Are you sure you’re not a professional?”
“Do you give private lessons? My niece has gone through three piano teachers and my sister is desperate.”
“I can’t believe you’re not with some group.”
“Are you a Juilliard graduate?”
“You’re so versatile. Most pianists are really good in only one or two areas, but you seem to have mastered them all. Have you ever been a church organist? Our congregation is in the process of interviewing if you’d like to stop by.”
Kathleen was overwhelmed. Offers, praise, questions—she answered them, and thanked everyone for their enthusiastic comments. After months of being so closemouthed and careful, she found herself chattering like a freed woman after being gagged in a closet.
She told them how her mother had loved music and that her ability at the keyboard had brought in money after she and Kathleen’s father separated. She told of her mother’s belief that everyone should know how to do something so well that if necessary they could earn a living at it. It was this last comment that had more than a few people looking at her with curiosity.
She didn’t have an answer beyond the truth. And she couldn’t tell them that. Instead, she sidestepped the issue. “After your enthusiastic comments, I will certainly consider playing in a professional capacity in the future.”
Booth eased her away then, and the crowd began to drift back outside. The food was ready, and soon the conversation changed from Kathleen to other topics. She and Booth fixed themselves burgers, added spoonfuls from many of the salads and sat down at one of the picnic tables.
Booth excused himself to check on Lisa, who was perched in Janet’s lap and making serious headway into a bowl of peach-and-gelatin salad.
“Mom, I can take her,” he said. “You’ve had her all day.”
“She’s fine. I’m spoiling her and loving it. Go and enjoy Kathleen. And since the crowd around her was so huge I couldn’t get close enough to say this directly, please tell her I think her playing was sensational.”
“Yeah, she’s talented, isn’t she?”
“More than that. She’s gifted. And the beauty is that I don’t think she knows it.”
Booth repeated the conversation to Kathleen, leaving her mouth agape at the word “gifted.”
“Your mom is a sweetheart, but I think it was because the guests chose familiar songs.”
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
He shrugged. “That’s what I said.”
“You think I’m gifted? Oh, Booth, I could kiss you.”
He grinned and leaned forward. “Anytime, anyplace, anywhere.”
“I won’t take that literally, since we’re in a public place.”
“I’ll take a rain check.”
She slipped her hand around his arm and said, “I’m so glad I came here. It’s been a terrific day.”
Booth squeezed her fingers, raising them to his mouth. He placed a kiss in the center of her palm and folded her fingers around it as if to preserve it for all time.
“Uh, excuse me.”
Kathleen straightened and turned. Booth extended his hand. “Eric, good to see you. Kathleen, this is Eric Carmody, Mavis’s son.”
Of medium height, he wore stark-white tennis clothes that were pressed and immaculate. He was almost pretty in a cordial way, with a slight five-o’ clock shadow and resolute features. He wore a wedding ring and carried a piece of sheet music in his hand.
“How nice to meet you,” Kathleen said. “You requested ‘Margaritaville.’”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember.”
“I never forget requests for great songs.”
He lowered his voice. “I like Buffett, but I’m supposed to be more serious about music.”
Kathleen nodded mock seriously. “When someone gives you a hard time, you tell them there’s room for innovation and greatness beyond the classics and the lofty composers. What moves a person and speaks to their soul is what defines excellence whether it’s a Gregorian chant or Buffett.”
“Very well put,” Eric said, smiling. “I’ll remember that.”
Kathleen glanced at the sheet in his hand. “Is that another one of your favorites?”
He glanced at it as if he’d forgotten he was carrying it. “Actually, I don’t think I need it. I brought it in the hope you might play it for me, but after that medley I think I’ve heard enough.”
Booth interjected. “He heads up the music department at The Swanhill Academy. It’s a small private school west of here—”
“I’ve heard about it,” Kathleen said, puzzled and curious as to where all of this was going. “In fact, I passed it the other day on my way home.”
“You�
�ve heard of it? From anyone in particular? Forgive me for asking, but the school is small and underfunded. Most times when I mention it, I get blank stares, so I’m curious. I know you’re fairly new in town, and Swanhill isn’t one of the area’s points of interest.”
“That’s too bad. There’s an understated elegance just in the building itself. I heard about the school from a friend, Gail Morgan. She told me about a scholarship program you offer. She’s encouraged some of the kids from the Powell Street Center to apply.”
Eric nodded, and glanced at Booth. “I’m impressed. I wasn’t prepared for her to be so knowledgable. I assume you haven’t said anything.”
“No.”
“Said anything about what?” Kathleen asked, suddenly uneasy.
“My mother said you were good at keeping a secret. She was right.”
“Secret about what?”
Booth lifted his beer bottle and added, “I wasn’t entirely sure you’d come to a decision immediately.”
“I did need to hear her play, and when Mother suggested this rather informal approach, I liked the idea. Less pressure on Kathleen, and less on me to take action. Now, having heard her, I don’t think there’s any problem. There is the usual paperwork—job application stuff—but I’m confident the board will be as pleased and excited as I am.”
Kathleen looked from one to the other, feeling invisible.
Booth grinned at her.
“What am I missing?” she asked, although she’d filled in most of the blanks with her own name.
“Guess it’s time, Booth.”
“This is all yours, Eric.”
While logic told her she was overreacting, her body wasn’t listening. Kathleen’s heart began to pound and a dozen terrifying possibilities burst through her—from some diabolical trick to set her up, to a brilliant police operation orchestrated by Booth.
Booth knew that her music was the one area where she was vulnerable, where she tended to talk when she should shut up. She’d certainly done that just moments ago in the house. And my God, hadn’t she called to have her piano sent?
Her breathing felt reedy, and she wondered what else she’d done that was careless or foolish. She couldn’t talk herself out of a sense of entrapment, of being blindsided, and fought off the urge to panic.
“...piano at the academy.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m offering you the position of teaching piano at the academy.”
“Teach? At Swanhill?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Booth. “I don’t understand.”
Booth put his arm around her and said to Eric, “I think she’s overwhelmed. Babe, Eric is serious. The academy has an opening in the music department, and he’s offering you the position.”
“But why?” she asked.
Eric blinked as if he had misunderstood the question. “Because you’re a fine pianist with a tremendous range and an ability to connect with your audience. Our students will learn from you, and that is the whole purpose of teaching, isn’t it? I’m just stunned that you haven’t been snatched up by one of the big music schools.”
She opened her mouth to say something, and then to her horror her eyes filled with tears. Relief. Awe. Gratitude. “Oh, my God.”
“I think she is truly stunned by the offer, Booth.”
“Kathleen?”
She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “I’ve just never heard of anyone getting that kind of position in such a casual way.”
“Actually, it’s been in process for a while. Booth mentioned your name to my mother after he heard you play—”
“Eric, don’t—”
But Eric waved him off. “Look, I know you didn’t want your name mentioned, but you deserve credit for your part.” He winked at Kathleen. “In fact, he’s called a few times to see if I had you under consideration. No, correction, he called so many times, I was beginning to wonder what he expected to get out of it.”
“Dammit, Eric.”
“Of course, I know now,” Eric said, ignoring Booth’s dark expression. “It was because you were so good. And when I told my mother I’d be here today, she came up with the idea of you bringing some music and playing. It would give me a nice way out if you turned out to be—How should I say this...?”
“Tone-deaf and unable to play ‘Chopsticks’?”
“Well, that’s a little rough, but yes.”
She glanced at Booth. “And you set all of this in motion?”
“I made a phone call to Mrs. Carmody after I heard you play at Gail’s place.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in the staffing of music academies,” she said in a flat, cool voice.
She knew by the flash in his eyes that she sounded sharp and irritated. And on one level, she was. Her relief was profound, while at the same time she hated that she’d been so easily taken in. She’d been careless and trusting when she should have known better. Booth was a cop, and from her own experience cops were experts at secrets and sleight of hand.
“I’m only interested in you. And because I’m no expert Look, this isn’t complicated. It wasn’t a conspiracy, no one was trying to embarrass you. I thought you were good, you obviously enjoyed playing, so I made a phone call. Period.”
Eric shifted his feet uneasily as Booth talked. Finally Eric took a few steps back, saying, “Let’s leave it this way, Kathleen. If you’re interested in the position—and I profoundly hope you are—please stop by my office at the academy one day next week. We’ll get the paperwork done and set a date for the board to hear you play. As I said earlier, this is more a formality, just reinforcing your credentials for the position. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to indulge in some dessert.” He extended his hand to Booth. “Thanks. She’s a jewel.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.”
Kathleen smiled. “Thank you. I’m honored at being offered the position.”
Eric walked away, and Booth sat back down to eat. Kathleen didn’t.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you did?”
“Because all I did was make a phone call. I had nothing to do with you being offered the position.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
She knew he was angry because of her unexpected reaction. On one level it would be wise to just let this go, but at the same time, her insides were as unstable as loose mercury. “I’m not a child, Booth. I can take disappointment.”
“Would you have been disappointed?” he asked, swinging around to look at her. No smile like before, no warmth in his eyes, no saying he only wanted her to promise to be happy. “The way you’re acting, you’d think I’d arranged to have you arrested for imitating a pianist.”
“You’re angry.”
“You could say that.”
She ducked her head. “I know I don’t sound very grateful, but I like to know what’s going on.”
“Really. Now I wonder why I didn’t figure that out?” He pushed his plate aside. “I mean, considering the way that you’ve kept me up-to-date in what’s going on with you. The mistress of hidden information dumping on me for keeping something quiet because I had no idea of the outcome? There’s a hell of a lot of irony in that.”
“Booth, please...” She touched his arm, but he pulled away.
“Maybe I should have gotten your hopes up, and then if it hadn’t worked out, I could have said, ‘Tough luck, kid. Them’s the breaks. Guess you’re doomed to spending your life waiting tables.’”
“You wouldn’t have done that,” she said softly, beginning to feel disgusted by how ungrateful and downright nasty she’d sounded. She also realized the pointlessness of having a relationship that wasn’t honest. Her instincts that first night had been the right ones. Why, oh why hadn’t she stuck with them rather than allowing herself to want him and need him and to love—No! She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t.
Turning away so he couldn’t see the col
or of despair blotching her cheeks, she said lamely, “I know you meant well.”
But Booth was having none of it, and Kathleen cringed at the bite of contempt he tossed back at her. “No, goddammit, you don’t know that at all. Once more, you don’t believe anyone wants to do anything for the simple reason that it’s the right thing to do. There always has to be some ulterior motive. You’re skittish and wary and terrified of something. Oh, don’t sweat it, babe. I’m not asking any questions, because I know damn well I’ll get no answers, or if I do, it will probably be a freaking lie.”
She backed up, feeling as if she’d been slapped. “I’ve never lied to you,” she said. She hated the mere thought of it, which was why she’d been so evasive. She had reasons—solid, her-future-depended-on-them reasons—and they had less to do with him than with protecting herself and safekeeping their relationship.
Booth was too honest, and if he knew the truth, he would have to follow it to its logical conclusion—he’ d have to arrest her, hold her for extradition back to Wyoming. That, she couldn’t bear to contemplate.
Now he took her by the shoulders. “Kathleen, we’re never going to work anything out between us with you living in some secret world you won’t let me into.”
Wearily she said, “You don’t understand.”
“And you won’t help me to.”
“I can’t.”
“Not you can’t. You won’t. And, babe, there’s one hell of a difference between the two. That’s the gist of it, isn’t it? You won’t today, or tomorrow, or next week.”
She said nothing.
At her silence, he asked a little louder, “Isn’t that true?”
“Yes!”
He stared at her for a long time, then shrugged when it was obvious that was all she was going to say. “Guess I should chalk that up to progress. Not a lot, but some. Maybe I should have shaken you down weeks ago. Whatever it is you won’t tell me, you’ve locked it up and decided it’s too powerful for anyone else to help you with.”
Kathleen barely heard him. She was losing him, feeling him slip away, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
He continued, his tone growing more sarcastic. “Now, if I’d been smart, I would have realized you’d freak over an unexpected turn of events, but in my rather limited capacity for figuring things out, I actually thought you’d be—uh, dare I say it?—happy about teaching at the academy. So, since seeing you happy and content was what I had in mind, it seemed wise to keep my mouth shut when I couldn’t guarantee that outcome.”