Caleb: She’s statuesque, like a model. With thick, dark hair that feels like spun silk—although I’ve never had the pleasure of touching it.
Kira: So how would you know it feels like spun silk? You’re extrapolating.
Caleb: I have a good imagination.
Kira: Hm. Okay. As the guy who created the DREAMS app, I might give you that.
Caleb: Aha! So, you have done research on me . . .
Kira: A little. *grudgingly*
Caleb: Can you tell I’m smiling?
Kira: Wipe that silly grin off your face.
Caleb: Moving right along . . . my dream girl is also incredibly intelligent, talented, hard-working, and selfless.
Kira: You can stop now.
Caleb: You said that once already . . .
Kira: I mean it this time.
Caleb: Do I detect your face is red from blushing at the way I described you?
Kira: Who said I’m your dream girl? You could be describing lots of women out there.
Caleb: But only one stole all my senses almost fifteen years ago.
Kira: You sound like a sappy romance novel.
Caleb: I’ll attempt to write one just for you. But it might be written in bytes. Just warning you.
Kira: You can stop now.
Caleb: That was #3.
Kira: The man can add!
Caleb: You’re not letting me get away with anything.
Kira: Nope. Um, I have the breakfast shift tomorrow.
Caleb: I’m sorry to keep you up late. It was a pleasure talking to you.
Kira: This wasn’t talking. It was texting.
Caleb: I look forward to our next real-time, in real-life conversation, then. It’s already been two weeks since I’ve seen you.
Kira: I’m still angry.
Caleb: I figured. But you’re pretty funny when you’re mad.
Kira: I am not funny.
Caleb: Amusing. Humorous. Clever. Add that to my list above of traits that intrigue me.
Kira: You’re lucky I don’t hang up on you.
Caleb: It’s difficult to hang up on text messaging.
Kira: Very funny.
Caleb: Yes, I’ve been told that before, but not in a good way. More like funny-looking. Weird-funny. Get-out-of-my-sight-funny.
Kira’s heart tightened in her chest. He was self-deprecating, but there was something else behind his words. Even by text. There was more to Caleb Davenport, something mysterious, elusive.
Did she want to find out? Yes, because she was curious now, although she wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, least of all him.
Was the man behind DREAMS still a nerd, or was he a player and feeding her lines? Was he the Mr. Darcy Elizabeth Bennett met that first night at the dance—the one that was a stuffed shirt, full of himself and a jerk—or was he a Bingley who buttered up Jane and then disappeared when she kept her love hidden inside her heart?
Kira didn’t intend to let Caleb Davenport hurt her any more than he already had.
She had no idea if he was an honest man at all. Not after stealing her necklace and hoarding it for more than a decade.
She hadn’t even shown it to her mother yet. Her parents wouldn’t believe it. That some guy she hadn’t even known existed in high school had taken it and never returned it.
Her father would be furious, and despite Kira’s own indignant fury, she wasn’t ready to tell the world Mr. Davenport, CEO of DREAMS was a villainous thief.
Chapter 14
For the next hour, Kira read over her text conversation with Caleb. It was the last thing she did before turning out the light and rolling into her pillow to sleep.
He was amusing and sweet, complimentary but not in an annoying way like some guys who were only interested in a physical relationship.
When she basically told Caleb to get lost, he wasn’t angry or defensive. Instead, he told her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen with talent and personality to match.
It had been a long time since she’d heard those kinds of compliments from a member of the male species.
It was very nice. Well, if she was honest, it was more than nice, but she was still suspicious of Caleb and there was so much more she needed to learn about him.
Mistrust had become part of her nature after breaking up with her last boyfriend, Roger—Kira wondered if he was still with the floozy he met on the cruise ship—but Roger was a distant memory and she honestly could not care less.
True to Caleb’s word, when she clocked into work two days later, she discovered that he had dropped off an envelope containing a ticket to attend the concert featuring Celeste Delorios, the world-renowned pianist from Italy.
She held the ticket in her hand, like Charlie holding the coveted golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Her finger glided over the printed words, a border of fancy gold swirls decorating the perimeter.
Her heart beat faster daydreaming about sitting in the plush concert hall downtown, the sound of perfect music flowing over her entire body and into her heart. It had been years since she could afford to hear a professional pianist or orchestra.
When the following Friday came, Kira showered and dressed with care. Mr. Rossi’s had given her the night off when she told him about the performance. He knew she had once majored in piano performance and the older man sympathetically rearranged her schedule.
Friday evenings were hard to give up since she usually made her best tips on the weekend, but another woman volunteered to take her shift. She was saving up to purchase a tricycle for her three-year old son’s upcoming birthday.
Kira stretched out the enjoyment of the evening by taking a long, hot shower, and using lotion and perfume. After drying her hair and applying her makeup, she slipped into her nicest dress, a red sheath with a gold belt. The dress swished about her legs, making her feel elegant.
Finally, she hunted down her best black coat, digging it out from the back of the closet. It was November now and the night temperatures dropped fast when the sun sank below the western mountains.
Earlier, her mother had telephoned and Kira reminded her for the tenth time that she was attending a concert that night—and not coming over to share a casserole dinner with her and Dad.
“I don’t understand how can you go to a concert by yourself?” her mother had asked. “Isn’t that terribly awkward to be there alone?”
“I’ll be surrounded by other piano lovers, Mother. I will be drenched with music. I don’t care if I don’t have someone to compare musical notes with or get a drink with during intermission.”
“Well, I certainly can’t imagine doing that, but young people are so different nowadays. Just when you think they all hang out in packs and gangs; my own daughter doesn’t care about going out on a Friday night all by herself!”
“Mother, you are being silly. I’ll be home in three hours. Goodnight.”
Kira reminded herself to give her parents a quick call when she got home so they didn’t worry that she’d been mugged on the way to her car in the downtown garage.
It was too bad they hadn’t learned to text yet, although she’d tried to teach them. Her father couldn’t be bothered and her mother always forgot the instructions.
Sometimes being the youngest child had its disadvantages. Kira double checked her purse for her ticket and drove her scratched-up Honda Accord to the Denver Center for the Performing Arts.
Denver was a relatively safe city, but her mother’s worries always cropped up in her mind when it came to times like tonight.
“Better to be safe than sorry!” Mrs. Bancroft always said.
After Kira parked in a paid lot with security, she walked the rest of the way to Boettcher theatre, past the enormous dancing couple sculpture and handed over her ticket. Entering the glass enclosed lobby, she sucked in a breath of pure joy.
Kira moved through the crowd, enjoying the sight of so many people dressed up in fine gowns and suits—and only felt a tiny bit lonely. In a few min
utes, it wouldn’t matter. The hall would be dimmed and the music would start. The music. She could hardly wait.
Emotion bit at the corners of her eyes when the usher showed her to her seat. It was a perfect spot on the mezzanine level, right in the middle, front row. She couldn’t have gotten a better seat if she’d tried to bribe someone, or paid for scalped tickets.
Caleb must have purchased the tickets when they first went on sale and choice of seating was plentiful. Which meant he’d had these for some time. Which meant that he attended piano concerts on purpose? Kira had assumed he’d bought tickets for the express purpose of asking her out.
Oh, the joy of the perfect line-of-sight of Ms. Delorios.
The orchestra members were already in their seats, tuning their instruments, playing quick runs to warm up. A cacophony of strings and horns and flutes. Combined with the hum of the crowd, it made the most pleasant sound in the world. The air was thrumming with the sound of anticipation and excitement. Denver didn’t often get someone of this renown.
She slipped out of her coat and laid it back against her chair, sinking down onto the velvet seat and leaning forward to watch the orchestra. A quick glance at her phone told her the concert would begin in ten minutes. She turned it off and stuck it in her purse under her feet.
Kira read through the program, a mix of Beethoven, Chopin and Brahms. Mostly she stared at the Italian Fazioli grand piano ready to be played. As one of the highest end pianos made, its glossy black sheen was enough to make her weep with longing. She ached at the thoughts of what she’d given up and blinked back her tears.
The hall’s lights flickered the five minute warning to attendees not in their seats.
Excitement was in the hall as people took their seats, chattering and reading their programs. And then, all at once, the sound of conversation ceased and the orchestra director appeared. Applause filled the hall. He was a well-known director in the Denver area, but Kira hadn’t seen him in concert for a long time. Not since her parents had season tickets and used to take her in high school.
Before the accident.
Before their lives were changed forever.
A shadow appeared at her elbow. Someone coming in to take the still vacant seat next to hers. Barely in the nick of time.
The director was speaking, outlining the program. Reminders of no photography and the intermission in forty-five minutes.
“Excuse me,” a low male voice said, just as the incoming patron accidentally bumped Kira’s elbow.
She murmured an automatic “no problem”, and folded up her elbows to give him room. She lifted her eyes, ready to give a stern glare if the seat holder was going to be one of those fidgety patrons who would distract her during the performance.
“Caleb Davenport,” she hissed at the sight of him inches away.
Her nerves were suddenly on fire when he pushed down on his seat cushion and in one fluid motion sat down next to her. His leg brushed up against hers seductively. Not that he was attempting seduction, but the vibes that came off this man sent Kira into a tizzy.
“What are you doing here?” she said, trying to keep the outrage in her voice to a minimum so she didn’t get kicked out by an usher.
“I plan to enjoy the performance,” he whispered back.
“You told me this wasn’t a date. I refused—”
He glanced at the audience members seated close around them and leaned toward her. Caleb’s breath was warm and sweet, and he was spiced with the most delicious male cologne Kira had ever smelled. Musky pomegranate—or something. She tried not to fixate on it, but he looked simply amazing in his well cut gray suit and red tie. Astonishingly matching her red dress in the same shade.
“It’s not a date,” he said with a grin of white teeth.
Kira tried to tear her eyes away from his lips. The guy must have had braces. That kind of perfection didn’t come naturally.
“But I wasn’t going to let the second ticket go to waste,” Caleb went on. “I heard Celeste Delorios perform in Italy a couple of years ago when I was there on business. On a Fazioli, no less. Since they’re made in Italy.”
“You what?” Kira swore her jaw hit the floor with a crack.
With an amused smile, Caleb leaned in and touched her chin, closing her mouth.
Kira bit at her lips, and gave him her best glare.
Smoothly, he slid an arm around the back of her chair, not touching her, but in an attempt to speak without disturbing the other people around them. “She’s fantastic. You’re going to love it.”
“We—we—” Kira tried to speak coherently. Taking a deep breath, she said, “We will talk afterward.”
His eyes met hers in the darkness of the hall. “I look forward to it.”
Then he put his arm back into his own space, and the concert began.
The man had nerve! Kira should have known. It was stupid of her not to realize that there was originally a pair of tickets, not just one. “Sneaky devil,” she said in another hiss.
Caleb put a finger to his lips, his eyebrows raised in playful naughtiness.
“What a mischievous boy you are.”
“That’s what my mother always told me.”
All through the first part of the pianist and orchestra’s performance, Kira was wildly aware of Caleb sitting next to her. If they had been sitting in a different row with seats in front of them his knees would have butted up against the seat backs.
She was still in awe of what a tall and large man he was—and her mind cast back to the dances they had shared at the reunion two weeks earlier. His thighs were muscular, his arms, in the sleeves of his gray suit coat, powerful.
How did a guy who sat behind a computer most of the time get so toned and buff?
The exotic scent of his cologne wafted over to her every few moments, causing her to be extremely distracted.
He was quiet, focused on the performance. Was he thinking about her? She was half annoyed that he’d shown up without telling her he was using the other ticket and half thrilled to be around him. He sent her mind swirling, her heightened senses soaring into orbit. Every breath, every move he made kept her on alert.
Kira held herself stiffly, afraid to move even the slightest bit that might convey her attraction to him. Besides, she was still peeved and suspicious of who Caleb Davenport really was. Another girl with this super-charged attraction might be content with a brief fling, but Kira wasn’t that kind of girl and she didn’t give her heart away easily.
Caleb still had a long way to go to prove himself, and that ill intentions were not his driving force. The lights for intermission suddenly lifted and Kira blinked in the brightness.
“Shall we get a drink during intermission?” Caleb said, offering his hand to help her rise.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You can get up and stretch your legs. I’m not an ogre. I have no pre-conceived ideas or impulses. I’m not forcing you into a relationship, Kira. I admit that I want to get to know you better—I always have—but I know I hurt you and I’ll back off.”
She stared at him, unsure of what to say. Did he really mean what he’d just stated? “You mean you’d go away and leave me completely alone if I asked?”
He winced, but Kira held her ground. She was curious as to what he’d say to that request.
“I’d be more disappointed than I’ve ever been in my life, but if that’s what you really want, I’ll get up right now, walk down to my car, and drive away forever.”
Her breath caught. She was still torn by the light she saw in his eyes, his obvious interest in her—and hers toward him—and yet stubborn enough to not want to give in.
But could she let him leave right this minute and never see him again?
There was a thumping pain in her chest and her heart pounded erratically. His nearness washed over her, the tenderness in his face. The longing for her to give him a chance was so very apparent.
“Okay, I understand,” Caleb finally said as h
e rose from his seat. “I wish you and your family every good thing, especially your parent’s health and happiness. Goodnight, Kira Bancroft. I mean—goodbye.”
Kira stared at him. Was that a catch of emotion in his voice? Wrenching herself to her feet, Kira stopped him. “Are you jerking around with my feelings?” Her voice was low and hoarse. The rest of the audience around them moved in and out of the row, chatting, arranging coats, heading out to the foyer.
A look of visible shock came over Caleb. “Never, Kira. I know I hurt you and betrayed your trust, but I will never do that again. Not knowingly, not willingly. In fact, just the opposite. I hope to do everything in my power to gain your trust. Not a day has gone by over the last ten years when I haven’t thought about you and wondered what you were doing and if I’d ever see you again to return the necklace. Even if it meant you’d hate me forever.”
Kira sucked in a breath, his words striking her in a whole new way. At the first opportunity of spending time with her, Caleb had returned the necklace. He hadn’t waited for the right moment.
Despite the desire she’d seen from him on the night of the reunion to kiss her or ask for a date, he hadn’t. He’d risked the chance that she’d tell him off and disappear.
“If you want to have my trust then you need to always be honest with me. Impeccably. Annoyingly. I’d love to hire a private detective, but I don’t have funds for that. What you can do is show me your life. Share your life and show me your true self.”
His eyes glistened under the theatre lights. Why was this man so emotional? Kira still got the sense that something in his own life had gone horribly wrong, but what could it possibly be? He had a dream job, dream life, and success beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.
Perhaps she was inventing things in her mind. Maybe it was only guilt.
All of a sudden, Caleb was holding her hand, rubbing a finger along the inside of her wrist. The warmth of his skin against hers was like a one-hundred-volt zap of lightning. Like a thousand lamps had suddenly spotlighted them in their brightness.
Slowly, she pulled away, their fingers releasing one by one until she dropped her arm at her side. When he touched her, all coherent thought fled. They couldn’t touch again until she knew him better.
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