Susan Mallery - Sweet Talk

“You push all my buttons,” he continued. “The hell of it is, I don’t know how to fix that. I like things predictable and you’re not that, either.”

Safe, she thought. He wanted relationships safe and meaningless. Did that mean he cared about her? He sure put a lot of energy into being mad at her.

“I would never get between you and Amy,” she told him.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s what you said before. I don’t want to lose control. I don’t want her to grow up and away and that’s what’s going to happen.”

She didn’t totally understand his pain-after all she didn’t have a child of her own. But she could imagine it would be uncomfortable.

“Amy loves you,” she said, rising to her feet and crossing to him. “You’re everything to her.”

“For now. In a few years, some kid is going to show up and try to steal her heart.”

“That won’t change how much she loves you.”

“Maybe not.” He looked her in the eye. “I don’t want you getting close. It’s one of the rules. I tried to be clear about that, but after we were together, I figured out you didn’t play by any rules.”

Meaning she was too innocent to have rules or she just didn’t bother? She wasn’t sure and…She frowned. “Wait a minute. It’s not up to me if I get close to you or not. You control that.”

“I know.”

There was something in the way he said those two little words. Something dark and sexy that made her toes tingle and her blood heat.

“I’m getting to you.” She wasn’t asking a question. For the first time in her life, she felt sexually powerful.

“More than you know.”

Electricity snapped between them.

She didn’t know what to do. Rush toward him and risk it all? Run in the opposite direction?

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Don’t sweat it, Claire. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But it meant something to her. Then the floor overhead creaked and she remembered they weren’t alone and could be interrupted at any moment.

“A safer topic might be better,” she told him.

“How about that piano you’re sitting next to? Did you practice on it when you were little?”

“Until I went away.” She opened the cover and pressed her fingers lightly against the keys. “It’s been unused for so long, it’s hard to keep tuned. The strings keep wanting to go back into their old position. But we’ll get it right.”

“Hard to make magic with an instrument that isn’t in tune.”

She stiffened in surprise. “I don’t make magic.”

“What would you call it?”

“I don’t know. Everything used to be so clear to me. My life was mapped out for me, one concert season at a time. I was always busy. Practicing, traveling, recording. Now I’m not doing anything.”

“Which is better?”

“Neither,” she said without thinking, then realized it wasn’t true. “I miss playing.”

He seemed to squirm in his chair.

“What?” she asked.

“Knee-jerk guy reaction. See problem, fix problem. I want to say, ‘so play,’ but I know it’s not that easy for you.”

“The panic attacks,” she murmured. “I haven’t had one since that first morning I worked at the bakery. I came close when I played at Amy’s school. I know I’m better, at least in my regular life, but could I perform again? I don’t know.”

“You need to, Claire. It’s what you were born to do. It’s your passion.”

Maybe, but she wouldn’t mind something else being her passion, too. A man, children, a family.

“I miss playing, but I want more in my life this time.”

“So make that happen. Aren’t you in charge?”

“Not according to my manager.”

“Get a new one.”

As easy as that, she thought, knowing if it were him, he probably would. “I’ve been with Lisa since I was twelve years old. That’s more than half my life.”

“It’s business,” he told her. “You had to sneak away to get time off to help out Nicole. You’ve given away all your power. Do you want to keep doing that?”

The easy response would be to get mad at him, but he was only telling the truth. She let Lisa run her life because it was easier than doing it herself.

“I’ve never stood up for what I wanted,” she said slowly. “I can’t tell you why. Maybe fear or inertia.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve always prided myself on not being a diva. I never made demands. I didn’t need certain foods or special flowers in my dressing room. But I let Lisa handle the most important decisions-the ones about my time and my talent. I’m twenty-eight years old. Shouldn’t I be more grown-up than that?” She sighed. “Be careful how you answer. I’m feeling vulnerable.”

“You are grown-up. You’ve been lazy until now. That’s all. Decide to do things differently.”

If only, she thought. “You make it sound easy.”

“Why does it have to be hard? Decide and then follow through. Or go back to things the way they were.”

“No. I won’t do that.”

“Then you’re halfway there.”

She smiled. “You’re coming across as very sensitive and understanding. You probably don’t want that being spread around.”

“No way.”

“So I can hold something over you.”

“You like having power, don’t you?” His voice was teasing as he spoke.

“Who doesn’t? Power is good.”

“In the right hands,” he told her.

She had the feeling they switched topics, but she wasn’t totally sure. She did know that the electricity was back and it was taking every ounce of her self-control not to stand up and walk into his arms.

She wanted to feel him holding her, have his mouth on hers. She wanted him to kiss her as if he couldn’t help himself.

Before she could stand and make her fantasy reality, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Amy clattered into the studio and crossed to the piano.

“Please play for me,” she said.

Claire laughed and pulled her up onto the bench. “How could I refuse? You’re my favorite audience.”

Wyatt watched his daughter snuggle close to Claire, then close her eyes as she rested one hand on top of the piano.

Did she hear anything at all or did she just feel the music?

The beautiful sound filled the studio, vibrating through him. How was it possible for Claire to create that with only her fingers and her memory? Why had she been singled out for her gift? What combination of genes or DNA or God had picked her?

Did it matter? She simply was. Talented, feisty, irresistible. Dangerous. He knew better than to get involved, yet he felt himself being drawn in closer and closer. Did he want to get out while the getting was still relatively easy?

Instead of answering that, he turned his attention to Amy. His beautiful daughter. While he ached at the thought of any part of her being destroyed, he knew he couldn’t deny her what she asked for. The compromise lay in doing only one ear, leaving the other available for future technology. Now she wanted to hear Claire play the piano. In time she would want to hear more of the world. A friend’s laughter. A man’s voice. A baby’s cry.

It wasn’t when or what he would have chosen, but he couldn’t say she was wrong to want that. Like Claire’s music, his daughter was a miracle.

“Y OU’RE RESTLESS ,”Nicole said after dinner. “Do I want to know what’s wrong?”

“I need to play,” Claire told her. She’d been feeling the urge since her conversation with Wyatt.

No, that wasn’t true. She’d been feeling it for a while now. She’d finally admitted it to herself after her talk with Wyatt.

Nicole looked confused. “I thought you were playing before. You had the studio door propped open. I heard you.”