Page 16 of Every Step She Takes
I bristled. Was he insinuating that Isabella wasn’t fulfilling her maternal duties? Colt’s only summer job was getting in shape for his next movie.
“Isabella’s new show is important,” I said carefully. “The studio is taking a risk launching a telenovela in America. I’m amazed she can focus on that while keeping her office door open, eating meals with the family, and swimming and playing board games in the evenings. By seven, I’d be sprawled on the sofa.”
“Belle is a wonder,” he said. “I don’t know how she does it, either.”
I relaxed and felt silly for defending her. She didn’t need that. Colt and Isabella had my ideal marriage – interweaving melodies, always close, always harmonic, complementing one another yet able to stand on their own.
I assembled my cone and quickly licked off the drips. When I saw Colt watching, I hesitated and prayed that hadn’t looked suggestive.
“Good?” he said. “I was worried it’d be melted by the time I got back. That freezer bag worked well. I’ll reuse it tomorrow and grab Belle some on my run.”
I relaxed again. I really needed to stop worrying whether I accidentally gazed at him too long or laughed too hard at his jokes or licked my ice cream suggestively. When he looked at me, he only saw his kids’ music tutor.
While Colt didn’t notice me, I couldn’t help being physically aware of him. I was sitting less than six inches from the most attractive man I’d ever met… who was wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts.
“I should grab napkins before this drips,” I said, rising.
Colt’s hand clamped on my knee. My bare knee. My heart tripped, half sensual awareness and half panicked terror. It was only a quick grip, though, strong and firm, as he said, “Hold on,” and held me on the chair as he slid across that gap between us. My heart slammed against my ribs.
“I really need–” I began.
“I’ll get the napkins. Just…” He leaned in, close enough for me to smell raspberry sherbet on his breath. “I have a favor to ask.”
I didn’t move,couldn’tmove.
“I’d like music lessons,” he said.
“What?” The word squeaked, and all I could remember was Nylah and her warning.It’s not his flute you’ll be blowing.
“I’m the only one in the family who doesn’t play an instrument,” he said. “Watching your nighttime jam sessions, I want to be part of that. Even if it’s just beating a drum with some semblance of rhythm.” His crooked smile reminded me of Jamison’s, a little uncertain, even a little shy.
“Sure.”
“One condition.” He leaned in even closer, heat radiating over me, and I held myself still, focused on a shaving nick on his cheek, blocking out the rest as I struggled to breathe.
“I want it to be a secret,” he said. “Belle and I have our eleventh wedding anniversary in August. We’ll be throwing a party. I’d like to surprise her then.”
I looked up, and he was right there, those famously bright blue eyes locked on mine.
When I inched away, he seemed to realize how close he’d gotten and straightened. A quick glance toward the beach, and he lowered his voice. “They’ll be back any second. We’ll talk tomorrow afternoon when Belle goes for her run. That’s when we’ll do the lessons.”
“The kids…”
“They can keep a secret. It’s not like they won’t hear me trying to play. They might even teach me a thing or two.”
I exhaled. It wouldn’t beprivatelessons, then.
“Deal?” he asked.
“Deal,” I said.
He clapped a hand on my bare thigh, a quick squeeze, and then he rose and jogged off to meet his family.
Chapter Nine
New York, 2019
The flight is uneventful. My driver is waiting for me at luggage claim, and soon I’m in an Upper West Side hotel suite twice the size of my apartment with a king bed, a Jacuzzi tub, a kitchen and a luxurious sitting area. Isabella isn’t just bending over backward – she’s doing triple-flips.
