MS. GALLO LAUGHED. “DON’T LOOK SO ALARMED. SHE’S NOT MENTALLY UNBALANCED OR ANYTHING. SHE IS JUST…DIFFERENT. AND WITH ME BEING FAMILY… WELL, LET ME BE BLUNT HERE. WE BOTH NEED A BREAK FROM ONE ANOTHER SOMETIMES. I’M HOPING IF SOMEONE BESIDES ME IS DEALING WITH THE DAY-TO-DAY ISSUES, THE TOUR WILL RUN MORE SMOOTHLY.”
“I UNDERSTAND. FAMILY TIES CAN COMPLICATE MATTERS, ESPECIALLY WITH WORK. BUT WHAT ABOUT HER PARENTS?”
SHE LOOKED DOWN WITH A SMALL FROWN. “MY BROTHER AND HIS WIFE DIED SOME YEARS AGO IN A TRAGIC ACCIDENT, SO IT’S JUST BEEN ME AND CARESSA.”
“OH, I’M SORRY TO HEAR THAT.”
“THERE HAVE BEEN DIFFICULT TIMES FOR CARESSA, BUT MUSIC IS WHAT HAS ALWAYS SUSTAINED US. HOPEFULLY YOU CAN LEND A PROFESSIONAL EDGE TO THE TOUR AND A PROFESSIONAL OUTLOOK WHEN THINGS BETWEEN ME AND MY NIECE GO AWRY. SHE HAS HER UPS AND DOWNS, LIKE ANYONE.”
“ARTISTS,” KYLE JOKED WITH A SMIRK. HE MEANT TO LIGHTEN THE MOOD, BUT WALTER COUGHED AND GAVE HIM A LOOK. THANKFULLY, DENISE NODDED AND SMILED.
“PRECISELY. BUT MOST OF THE TIME SHE’S QUITE CHARMING. IT’S UNFORTUNATE THAT YOU COULDN’T MEET HER TODAY BUT SHE HAD PRIOR OBLIGATIONS. A PHOTO SHOOT, AND THEN PRACTICE. ALWAYS PRACTICES AND REHEARSALS. THIS TOUR IS A VERY SPECIAL EVENT, WHAT COULD VERY WELL BE A HIGHPOINT OF HER CAREER. SHE’S GOING TO BE PLAYING SAINT-SAËNS’ CONCERTO NO. 1.” THE WOMAN STOPPED AND LOOKED AT KYLE FOR A REACTION, AND SEEMED SLIGHTLY DISAPPOINTED WHEN SHE DIDN’T RECEIVE IT. “IN A MINOR?” SHE ADDED, AS IF THAT MIGHT SHAKE SOME INKLING OF RECOGNITION FROM KYLE’S BRAIN.
Kyle shrugged with an apologetic smile. “I know nothing about music. It won’t affect my ability to help Miss Gallo fulfill her professional obligations.”
“OF COURSE,” THE OLDER WOMAN SAID. “WELL, WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW OF IT NOW, YOU’LL LEARN SOON ENOUGH. IT IS A VIRTUOSO PIECE, AND IT IS DEMANDING NOT JUST TECHNICALLY, BUT EMOTIONALLY. LET ME BE PERFECTLY CLEAR, MR. WINCHELL. MY NIECE IS NOT AN EASY PERSON TO DEAL WITH AT TIMES. SHE WILL BE EVEN LESS RELAXED ON THIS CONCERT TOUR. WHAT I WANT IS FOR CARESSA TO BE ABLE TO CONCENTRATE FULLY ON HER MUSIC AND APPEARANCES WITHOUT GETTING DERAILED BY DISTRACTIONS, OR BUTTING HEADS WITH HER STODGY OLD AUNT OVER THINGS THAT CAN’T BE CHANGED. THE TOUR MANAGER, PAUL, IS ADEPT AT SCHEDULING, AND I CAN KEEP A HANDLE ON SOCIAL ARRANGEMENTS AND SUCH, BUT I’M NOT SO GREAT AT HANDLING CARESSA HERSELF. MY NIECE IS A WONDERFUL PERSON AND AN EXTREMELY TALENTED ARTIST, BUT MORE AND MORE LATELY, I THINK SHE NEEDS A…FIRM HAND.”
A FIRM HAND. FOR ONE WILD MOMENT, KYLE IMAGINED HIMSELF PULLING THE TALENTED, MYSTERIOUS MISS GALLO OVER HIS LAP FOR REFUSING TO PRACTICE. YOU NAUGHTY LITTLE PRODIGY. HE FELT A HOT FLUSH GROWING BEHIND HIS EARS AND LEANED FORWARD IN HIS CHAIR, WILLING HIS THOUGHTS INTO SUBMISSION BEFORE A TENT FORMED IN HIS PANTS.
“Ms. Gallo, I can assure you that I’m up for the job.” Both literally and figuratively.
“And you can be firm if…well…if she is not always the easiest to manage?”
Kyle smothered a smile. “I can be firm when I need to be. And I understand exactly what you mean about focus. There are always so many annoying details and distractions when you’re traveling and trying to get work done. You just want me to provide a nudge when necessary, and keep her focused when she’s supposed to work. In the most professional way possible.”
Ms. Gallo looked relieved, nodding. “Exactly. Yes, you understand completely. You see, I only want my niece to find success. She has worked so hard—”
She stopped, placing her fingers very carefully over her lips, and for a moment Kyle thought she might cry. But she rallied and waved her arm with a flourish. “She is an amazing musician. She works very hard, and I want to surround her with all the tools of success.”
So Kyle was to be one of those tools of success. He could be a tool all right. “I understand, Ms. Gallo. It would be my pleasure to help your client reach her goals. I’m sure Walter has shared my references.”
“Of course. That was the reason we considered you first. Glowing references, and from Jeremy Gray no less. He says you are professional, dependable, courteous. Discreet.” The woman looked hard at Kyle. “Of course, professionalism and discretion will be a must. In this situation…”
HER VOICE DIED OUT, BUT KYLE KEPT LISTENING. IN THIS SITUATION… WHAT SITUATION? WELL, THESE TYPES OF HIGHBROW, ARTY PEOPLE ALWAYS GOT THEIR PANTIES IN A TWIST, THINKING THEIR “SITUATIONS” WERE SOMEHOW MORE OVER THE TOP THAN EVERYONE ELSE’S. KYLE WAS SURE THE SITUATION WAS NOWHERE NEAR AS DIRE AS MS. GALLO SEEMED TO FEEL. HE COULD CONTROL ONE WAYWARD CELLIST WITH A HAND TIED BEHIND HIS BACK. TWO HANDS, PROBABLY.
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy working with your niece, and you can count on my professionalism from day one to the last day of service. I actually can’t wait to meet her, Ms. Gallo.”
THE WOMAN NODDED WITH A RELIEVED SMILE AND SAID, “CALL ME DENISE.” THEN THE SIGNING OF CONTRACTS BEGAN.
* * * * *
A COUPLE WEEKS LATER KYLE WAS PACKED AND READY TO GO. HE’D MADE ARRANGEMENTS FOR HIS APARTMENT AND SPOKEN TO HIS FAMILY IN TEXAS ABOUT HIS NEW ASSIGNMENT. HE FELT STRANGELY EXCITED ABOUT THE DETAILED ITINERARY WALTER HAD SENT HIM, ALONG WITH A THICK FOLDER OF LEGAL NOTICES, SCHEDULES, AND QUESTIONNAIRES ABOUT HIS OWN TRAVEL AND DINING PREFERENCES, ASSEMBLED BY THE INTREPID-BUT-ABSENT TOUR MANAGER PAUL. THIS TOUR WAS CLEARLY A BIG UNDERTAKING, SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT HE’D BECOME INVOLVED WITH.
NOT THAT HE WAS WORRIED. THE JOB SPECS WERE SIMPLE. KEEP AN EYE ON CARESSA. GET HER WHERE SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. DENISE WOULD TELL HIM THE SCHEDULE AND HE WOULD MAKE SURE THE PRODIGY COOPERATED. THE PRODIGY. THE MONIKER HAD STUCK IN HIS HEAD AFTER VIEWING SOME OLD CONCERT FOOTAGE OF HER ONLINE. SHE HAD BEEN ELEVEN OR TWELVE MAYBE, AN AWKWARD PRE-ADOLESCENT WITH A TALENT THAT OVERSHADOWED HER FRIZZY HAIR AND ACNE, AND THE GANGLY KNEES THAT POKED OUT ON EITHER SIDE OF HER CELLO. KYLE HOPED HE DIDN’T SLIP UP AND CALL HER THE PRODIGY TO HER FACE.
Just after ten, his luggage was picked up and taken for him to the airport. A separate car was due to arrive to take the three of them to their flight. Kyle, Denise Gallo, and The Prodi—er—Caressa. He was suited up again in a starched shirt, tie, and dark jacket, hoping against hope he and his new client would get along, since it would be a long three-and-a-half month assignment if they didn’t.
Unfortunately, the first meeting wasn’t auspicious. The limousine pulled up to the lobby of his building and he climbed in, finding it rather cramped since Caressa’s cello case took up the lion’s share of the space. She was huddled behind it. When her aunt introduced them, Caressa didn’t even look up.
“She’s stressed,” Denise explained under her breath to Kyle. “She doesn’t like to travel.”
Kyle nodded and settled back against the seat, studying the young cellist surreptitiously. It was difficult to reconcile the belligerent, frizzy-haired brat he’d envisioned with the silent, serious beauty sitting across from him. And she was a beauty. Long, sleek spiral curls, pale skin and dark lashes. Really lovely lips turned down, at present, in a small frown.
Perhaps Aunt Denise had exaggerated her problem-child qualities. Kyle hoped so. The rest of the trip to the airport was uneventful. He and Denise small-talked about the upcoming trip, while Caressa—the reason for the trip—sat in sullen silence behind her cello. In fact, Caressa didn’t say a word to him until they were getting out of the limo at the airport, and he reached to help with her instrument.
“Be careful,” she snapped. “That’s very valuable.”
The cello case was hard-sided and, Kyle assumed, had some kind of cushioning system inside, since it was significantly larger than an actual cello. It had wheels and a built-in handle that Caressa pulled out of the wider side.
“Let me do it,” he said. “It’s no problem.”
She looked him in the eyes then, for the first time. An assessing look from decidedly green eyes.
He dropped his voice and leaned closer. “Listen, I’m not stupid. I get it. It’s valuable and fragile. You can trust me with it.”
For a m
oment it seemed she would argue, but then she let go of the handle and let him maneuver the instrument across the pavement toward the sliding glass doors. She tripped along beside him, clutching a small handbag and biting her lip. Denise sent their bags off to be checked, but the cello stayed. At security, agents measured, opened, and scanned the case. They carefully inspected Caressa’s instrument while she hovered, glowering. Forget about the threat of a concealed bomb or firearm. Kyle thought if they damaged her cello, she would do more violence than all those weapons combined.
With that done, he helped her replace the cello, noting the interior placement and fastenings. As soon as it was secure, she let him roll it to the gate. Denise was already ahead of them, leading them to a private lobby and soon afterward onto the flight. In the first class compartment, there were two seats on one side and three on the other. Denise slid into the double seat with another passenger, so Kyle was left with no choice but to help Caressa strap her cello to the window seat of the three-row.
A flight attendant hovered over them but Caressa wouldn’t let her touch the case. Kyle was starting to wonder if Caressa really wasn’t right in the head, despite Denise’s assurances. By the time she flopped into the middle seat beside him with a scowl, he was wondering what he’d gotten himself into. She leaned on the armrest and bit a nail while the other passengers filed past, gawking at her cello. It was so large, it crossed into her space so she was forced even closer to him—no doubt against her will.
Kyle gestured toward the huge case. “Why don’t you just check that?”
“THE FACT THAT YOU WOULD EVEN ASK THAT TELLS ME YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MUSIC.”
“GUILTY. TRY NOT TO HATE ME FOR IT.”
SHE MADE A SMALL SOUND LIKE A SNORT AND FLIPPED BACK HER HAIR, ONLY TO HAVE THE THICK CURLS FALL RIGHT BACK IN HER FACE AGAIN. “CELLOS ARE VERY DELICATE. THIS ONE IS A PERESSON. IT’S VERY RARE AND VALUABLE. THE TONE AND RESPONSIVENESS—WELL. WHATEVER. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO EXPLAIN TO A NON-MUSICIAN.”
“THANK YOU FOR TRYING THOUGH. I APPRECIATE IT.” HIS CONCILIATORY TONE IN THE FACE OF HER HAUGHTINESS SEEMED TO GIVE HER PAUSE, AND SHE FELL SILENT. “SO YOU DON’T PUT AN INSTRUMENT LIKE THAT IN THE CARGO HOLD, I SUPPOSE.”
“NO. YOU WOULD NEVER DO THAT. I WOULDN’T PUT A CHEAP FIVE-HUNDRED-DOLLAR CELLO IN THE CARGO HOLD, MUCH LESS THIS ONE.”
“FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS IS CHEAP? WHAT’S THAT ONE WORTH?”
SHE REACHED OUT FOR THE CASE, CARESSING IT IN AN ALMOST REVERENT MANNER. “I COULDN’T REALLY SAY. IT’S PRICELESS. THE FACT THAT I PLAY IT MAKES IT EVEN MORE VALUABLE.”
“THAT’S VERY MODEST OF YOU.” KYLE STRETCHED OUT HIS LEGS AND RELAXED BACK INTO THE CUSHY SEAT.
“WELL, IT’S TRUE.” WAS SHE BLUSHING? MAYBE SHE DID HAVE SOME SMALL INKLING OF SOCIAL GRACES. PROBABLY NOT. SHE DUG IN HER BAG FOR SUNGLASSES WHILE THE ATTENDANT LAUNCHED INTO THE SAFETY SPIEL UP FRONT. “NO OFFENSE,” CARESSA SAID, “BUT I DON’T FEEL LIKE TALKING. DESPITE THE FACT THAT DENISE PURPOSELY TRAPPED ME HERE NEXT TO YOU.”
“TRAPPED YOU?” KYLE LEANED CLOSER TO HER AGAIN, MODULATING HIS VOICE TO QUIET BUT AUTHORITATIVE REPROACH. “MISS GALLO, HAVE I DONE SOMETHING TO OFFEND YOU? BECAUSE I CAN HONESTLY SAY I’VE NEVER MADE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF ANYONE SO RUDE.”
HE COULDN’T SEE HER EYES THROUGH THE SUNGLASSES, BUT HER FACE WAS PINCHED AND STUBBORN. “WHY SHOULD I BE HAPPY TO MEET THE NEW POLICEMAN?”
“I’M ACTUALLY YOUR ASSISTANT, NOT A POLICEMAN.”
“IS THAT WHAT SHE TOLD YOU?” SHE GAVE A MIRTHLESS LAUGH. “BELIEVE ME, YOU’RE A POLICEMAN, AND SHE’LL PRETTY MUCH EXPECT YOU TO KEEP ME UNDER LOCK AND KEY.”
“REALLY? I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION YOU DID ALL THIS VOLUNTARILY.” HE WAVED HIS HAND AROUND, INDICATING ALL THIS—THE AIRPLANE, THE TWO-INCH-THICK DOSSIER OF TOUR DOCS IN HIS HIP BAG, THE MONSTER CELLO CASE PRESSING AGAINST HER RIGHT KNEE. “IF YOU’RE BEING MADE TO TOUR THE WORLD AGAINST YOUR WILL, BY ALL MEANS SAY SO, AND I’LL WHISK YOU TO SAFETY. I LOVE THAT KIND OF STUFF. KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR.”
She shifted away from him again with an offended sniff, a slight made less insulting and somewhat funnier but the fact that her cello prevented her from moving more than an inch or two. Her left knee was just a finger’s width from his, encased in dark blue denim. He had a sudden urge to put his hand on it and order her to be still. What would she do? Throw his hand off? Curse him out? Or go quiet and docile…? Ugh, these thoughts. His hand made a loose fist and stayed right where it was. He was determined to be ruled by propriety and not libido.
The attendant was finishing the safety lesson and preparing the cabin for takeoff. As the plane started to move, Caressa’s hand came down on the armrest between them and he had to move his arm to make room for hers. His gaze moved from her knees to her fingers, long and graceful as they curled around the edge of the padded divider. He could hear her breaths growing shorter and shallower.
“Okay?” he asked.
The plane was picking up speed as it taxied down the runway. She wet her lips and then bit her lower lip, a nervous tic he already recognized.
“Are you an anxious flyer, Miss Gallo?”
She blanched as the engines roared to life and the plane surged forward. “A little.”
He could have rattled off the comforting statistics, explained how unlikely a plane crash really was, but she probably wouldn’t have heard him. As the plane tipped backward and took flight, her whole body tensed and she actually gritted her teeth.
“It’s okay,” he said. He put his hand over hers, lightly, just a reassuring brush of fingertips over her knuckles. As the wheels folded up with an audible bump bump and the plane banked sharply left, she turned her hand and closed her fingers on his.
Her palm was sweaty and the higher the plane climbed, the harder she gripped him. He sat very still, trying not to react to the viselike pain of her grasp. He was fairly sure she didn’t even realize what she was doing. Behind her glasses her eyes were shut tight. It wasn’t until the plane was righted and at cruising altitude that her grip began to ease in slow increments. Finally, she pulled her hand away without a word and hunched onto her side, her shoulder a tense barrier between them.
HE LEFT HIS HAND WHERE IT WAS, ON THE ARMREST, IN CASE SHE NEEDED IT AGAIN. SHE WAS SILENT AND STILL FOR SO LONG HE THOUGHT SHE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP. THEN HE HEARD HER VOICE—JUST BARELY—OVER THE HUM OF THE ENGINES.
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO CALL ME MISS GALLO. MY NAME IS CARESSA.”
KYLE SMILED AND LOOKED OVER AT THE CLOUDS OUT THE WINDOW. IT WAS A SMALL THING, BUT IT WAS SOMETHING. AND GOD, SHE WAS SO PRETTY. FOR ALL HER AUNT’S WARNINGS, HE WAS STARTING TO THINK THIS JOB WOULD BE A PIECE OF CAKE.
CHAPTER TWO:
HANDS FULL
CARESSA UNCOILED SLOWLY AS THE PLANE TAXIED UP TO THE JETWAY. ANOTHER FLIGHT FINISHED. SHE FELT HALF-CONSCIOUS, CAUGHT BETWEEN PANIC AND ALERTNESS. SHE WATCHED HIM HANDLE HER CELLO, BEING DELIBERATELY SLOW AND CAUTIOUS, WAVING OFF HER ATTEMPTS TO INTERVENE. “LET ME HANDLE IT,” HE SAID. “I’M BEING PAID TO HELP YOU.”
WELL, SHE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT THAT.
CARESSA HAD STEELED HERSELF TO DISLIKE KYLE WINCHELL. AFTER THE LAST TOUR, WHEN HER AUNT AND SHE HAD ALMOST KILLED EACH OTHER, DENISE HAD SET ON THIS IDEA OF HIRING A “HELPER”. CARESSA THOUGHT IT WAS THE STUPIDEST IDEA EVER, AND HADN’T REALLY BELIEVED HER AUNT WOULD DO IT UNTIL THE MAN CLIMBED INTO THE LIMO THAT MORNING. OF COURSE SHE’D CHOSEN A MAN, LIKE THAT WOULD MAKE EVERYTHING OKAY BETWEEN THEM. LIKE A MAN COULD PREVAIL WHERE TWO WOMEN COULDN’T FIND PEACE. IRONCLAD SOLUTIONS. RIDICULOUS.
SHE’D EXPECTED A SUITED-UP, POMPOUS GORILLA TO CLIMB INTO THE CAR, BUT THE MAN DENISE HIRED WAS MORE LIKE A…PANTHER. OH, THAT WAS SO HOKEY. BUT SHE COULDN’T REALLY LOOK AT HER NEW “ASSISTANT” WITHOUT IMAGINING THE SLEEK, SMOOTH POWER OF A PANTHER. HE WAS EVEN DARK LIKE A PANTHER, DARK-HAIRED AND BRONZE WITH EYES LIKE DARK BLUE POOLS. HE WAS ACTUALLY DISGUSTINGLY HANDSOME. CARESSA KNEW HE WAS FROM LOS ANGELES, WHICH PROBABLY EXPLAINED WHY HIS CLOTHES FIT SO WELL AND HIS FINGERNAI
LS LOOKED LIKE THEY’D BEEN PROFESSIONALLY MANICURED. HER OWN NAILS WERE SHORT OUT OF NECESSITY, AND SHE’D NEVER HAD THEM DONE. NO ONE TOUCHED HER HANDS, NOT EVER. ALTHOUGH HE HAD…JUST FOR A MOMENT. ACTUALLY, MAYBE SHE’D GRABBED HIS HAND WHILE THE PLANE WAS TAKING OFF. SHE COULDN’T REMEMBER. SHE HATED TAKEOFFS AND LANDINGS. SHE HATED FLYING, PERIOD.
NOW IT WAS REALLY UNDERWAY…ANOTHER LONG, TEDIOUS TOUR. SHE LOVED AND HATED TOURING. SHE LOVED THE IDEA OF IT, BUT HATED THE ACTUAL EXECUTION, WHICH IS WHY DENISE HAD HIRED KYLE WINCHELL. SHE’D PROBABLY HAND-PICKED HIM BECAUSE HE WAS SO HANDSOME AND CHARMING, AS IF THAT MIGHT BRING HER MORE EASILY TO HEEL. BUT CARESSA HEELED FOR NO ONE.
SHE WOULD BE RID OF HIM SOON ENOUGH. SHE DIDN’T NEED THE DISTRACTION OF HIM ON THE TOUR. SHE WAS ALREADY THINKING OF HIM MORE THAN SHE LIKED. HIS MOUTH WAS FULL AND EXPRESSIVE—HIS SMILES WIDE AND HIS FROWNS INTIMIDATING. WHEN SHE ANNOYED HIM HIS LIPS WENT ALL TIGHT AND STRAIGHT IN A PURSED LINE. SHE NOTICED THE MOVEMENTS OF HIS HANDS, WHICH WERE NEVER CASUAL OR CARELESS. HE WAS POLISH AND CORDIALITY ON THE SURFACE, BUT SHE COULD SENSE DARKER CURRENTS UNDERNEATH.
BUT HE WAS NOT DARKNESS NOW. HE LIFTED HER CELLO WITH ALMOST TENDER MOVEMENTS. SHE WATCHED, FEELING SOME ALIEN EMOTION. FONDNESS? DAMN DENISE. CARESSA LOOKED AWAY, LETTING MUSIC CROWD INTO HER SUBCONSCIOUS AS SHE FOLLOWED HIM OFF THE PLANE. THERE WAS ALWAYS MUSIC IN HER HEAD AND SHE NEVER KNEW WHAT KIND IT WOULD BE. OF LATE, IT WAS SAINT-SAËNS MOST OF THE TIME, TORMENTING HER AND RIDDLING HER WITH DOUBTS. SHE MUST HAVE BEEN CRAZY TO TAKE IT ON AT THIS POINT IN HER CAREER. SAINT-SAËNS’ CONCERTO ONE WAS SOMETHING CELLISTS DID AT THE HEIGHT OF THEIR ARC. AFTER THIS, THERE WOULD BE NOWHERE TO GO BUT DOWN.
CARESSA SOMETIMES SUSPECTED THAT SHE WANTED TO GO DOWN.
“CARESSA?” DENISE SAID HER NAME SHARPLY, AND SHE YANKED HER GAZE FROM MR. WINCHELL’S BROAD BACK. YOU CAN CALL ME KYLE, HE’D SAID ON THE PLANE, RIGHT AFTER SHE ASKED HIM TO CALL HER CARESSA. MR. WINCHELL FIT HIM BETTER, WITH HIS PERFECTLY TAILORED DARK SUIT AND SERIOUS EXPRESSION. HE COULDN’T BE MUCH OLDER THAN HER, BUT HE SEEMED OLDER.
Caressa’s Knees Page 2