Harmony Evans - Lesson in Romance

He felt stupid for confiding in her, a perfect stranger. Yet it was her eyes, caring and warm, that drew him in and caused him to talk about a story he’d never shared with anyone.

Why her? Why now?

He felt a tap on his knee, turned and found Cara sitting right beside him, so close he could smell her perfume, a faint scent of vanilla tinged with rose.

“I want to show you something. May I?”

Before he could respond, she took the empty beer bottle and placed it in a cup holder.

She grabbed his right hand, squeezed it gently. The simple gesture startled him into immediate attention.

“There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet.”

He tried to break contact with her before she noticed that his palms were beginning to sweat, but she held firm.

“I know,” he said, distracted because he really liked the feel of her hand on his. “Even I watched Sesame Street. What’s your point?”

At that moment, she tightened her grasp and leaned in close to him, as if she was about to reveal a dark secret.

“Be patient, I’m getting to it.”

Drawing back, she turned his hand to reveal his palm. He looked down, relieved to see it didn’t look as moist as it felt.

“To start to learn how to read, all you have to remember is that there are five vowels.” Slowly she traced each vowel on his palm with her fingertips.

“A-E-I-O-U.”

He hitched in a breath as each letter became an invisible imprint, fingernail upon flesh, leaving a trail of indescribable sensations radiating from his palm to his fingertips.

“The rest of the letters are called consonants.” She circled her finger in the dip of his palm. “Consonants and vowels work together to form words.”

Alex held his breath as she tugged each fingertip down to his palm until his hand was enclosed inside both of hers, warm and gentle.

“The ability to sound each one out individually, then as a whole, is the basis for learning how to read.”

Their eyes met and he thought he saw a flicker of desire in hers. But when she dropped his hand right away, he dismissed the notion. Cara had a lust for letters, not him.

“That’s it?” his voice doubtful.

“Yes, that’s it!”

He pressed a button on the console in front of him and spoke to his driver. “Hey, Frank! Turn this beast around. It’s back to Harlem, my man, we’re done back here.”

Cara giggled. “No! That’s not what I meant. Of course there’s a lot more to it than that. But at its roots, language is made up of consonants and vowels, kind of like the basic building blocks of music are notes and rhythm.”

Leaning forward, he pressed the button again. “False alarm, keep going.”

He settled back in the seat, eyed her skeptically. “How do you know so much about music? Are you a musician?”

“No.” A shy smile crept across her lips. “Well, maybe. But, I’m just an amateur.”

He formed a square with his fingers and looked through them like a camera, appraising her. “Hmm…let me guess. You’re a singer.”

When she blushed and nodded, he swore. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

He reached for the intercom, but Cara swatted his hand away.

“Do you have a problem with singers?”

He crossed his arms. “Yeah. Too much drama.”

She drew an imaginary halo around her head and batted her lashes like a movie star. “Me? Drama?”

Enchanted, his lips curved. It seemed there might be a playful little devil ready to bust out of all that innocence.

“So you can smile,” she teased. “Was that so bad?”

His smile faded, although it struck him funny how a word or two from Cara could turn his mood from happy to sad and everything in between. He moved away and watched the river flow, as wide and vast as the emptiness in his heart.

Sure he had a great career, plenty of money and had dated some of the most desirable women in the world.

But at what cost?

So far, nothing he’d achieved had erased the guilt he lived with every day. Deep down, he feared learning to read would only make it worse.

* * *

An hour later, Cara woke with a start to discover she’d fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. She sat up, her face burning with embarrassment. The driver swerved to avoid a pothole and she yelped in surprise when she crashed back into Alex’s side.

“I guess I should get the driveway paved.” He grabbed hold of the seat. “But I’m not up here too often and I always forget how bad it is until I come back.”

Cara gripped the armrest and righted herself. “I just hope we make it there without cracking our skulls open.”

“Don’t worry.” His thumb jerked up to the ceiling. “It’s padded.”

Her lips twisted. “But my head isn’t.”

The limo bucked and Alex caught her in his arms. “Whoops!”

They laughed uncontrollably as the vehicle continued its wild ride up to his house.

By the time they arrived, her stomach hurt. It had been such a long time since she laughed so hard, she’d forgotten how good it felt.

Alex cleared his throat. “We’re home.”

Her heart did a slow somersault as he held her, the heat from his body enveloping her own. Although his embrace was accidental, it felt purposeful, as if she belonged in his arms.

Her chin tilted up and she saw eyes sparked with interest that went beyond a hearty laugh. He ran a finger down her cheek, dislodging a strand of hair stuck there, stroked it briefly, let it fall against her.

She broke away, trembling, and slid to other side of the limo. Warning bells went off in her head, and she had no one but herself to blame.

What had she been thinking, tracing letters on his palm and fingertips in a way that would have made Big Bird blush?

Excitement darted up her spine remembering the feel of his hand in hers. His palm, slightly rough around the edges but soft in the middle, the fingertips callused from years of playing the saxophone.

She’d never done anything like that before. But the grace of her touch hadn’t lasted long. Almost as quickly as he opened up, he shut her out again. Yet just then he didn’t seem to mind having her in his arms.

What was happening between them?

The driver opened up the door and she stepped out, wide-eyed. With its rough-hewn logs, wraparound porch and gabled roof, the quaint little cottage was the perfect mountain hideaway. She fell in love with it at first sight, but her heart raced again at being in such close quarters with Alex.

The air was cooler here than in Harlem. Smelled better, too. Rubbing her arms, her nose twitched as she inhaled the heady evergreen scent of giant fir trees that surrounded the cottage. Somewhere nearby a stream gurgled, completing the Zenlike setting.

Alex appeared at her side, instrument case in hand. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.”

His hazel eyes brightened. “Thanks. C’mon. I’ll show you around.”

He guided her by the elbow as they walked. Her heels teetered over the pebbled walkway. Her heart raced anew at his touch.

Was it her imagination or did his hand linger before he released her elbow to unlock and open the front door?

He showed her the gourmet kitchen, the powder room and the laundry room. With an inner frown, she realized there were no pictures of family or friends here, either. Although everything was model-home neat with modern furniture and artwork, it still felt empty. Did Alex feel it, too?

He picked up their bags and they ascended the stairway to the second floor. “This is the guest room.” He set her belongings down and pointed down the hallway. “My bedroom is down there and the bathroom is in the middle. There’s a linen closet halfway with plenty of towels and soap. I’ll leave you to unpack.”