Пэнни Джордан – The Royal House of Niroli: Secret Heirs: Bride by Royal Appointment / A Royal Bride at the Sheikh's Command (страница 8)
And that brought him back to something he’d been wondering about before—just what were her romantic entanglements?
“Do you live here alone?” he asked, glancing around the room and finding nothing particularly masculine in the entire scene.
She nodded.
“No partner? No relationship?”
She smiled. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious. This island seems to have such a great atmosphere for lovers. I’d hate to think you were wasting it.”
She threw back her head and laughed out loud. “Oh, you are a devil, aren’t you? Actually, having lived here all my life, I’m pretty much immune to the romantic charms of the place.”
“So you say.” He studied her. “What’s your lover like, then?” He could hardly believe she didn’t have one.
“My lover? Ah-h-h.” She drew in a sensual breath and straightened her spine in a stretch, as though savoring the thought of him, and Adam winced. He didn’t need details. Actually, he’d been hoping she was between loves right now.
“My lover has strong arms,” she was saying wistfully, “sweet breath, a body like a Greek god. He can sing like an angel, but for nobody but me.” She flashed him a quick grin as though waking from a dream. “At least that was the way I imagined him when I was about fourteen.”
The sense of relief he felt was ridiculous. “So this isn’t a real guy?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s out there somewhere.”
He shook his head, enjoying her and not sure if he should be. “You’re a strange woman.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Different from what you’re used to?”
“Infinitely.”
“Brilliant. It will probably do you good to shake up your expectations a bit. Maybe you’ll get a better picture of what women are really like.”
“Play me something,” he said softly.
She slowly lifted the piano lid again and her hands went back to the keys, her fingers hitting a few notes softly, but her face was very still. “What would you like to hear?”
“Anything you’d like to play.”
She smiled and touched the keys, and in seconds music filled the room. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was gorgeous—full of fire and passion and a strain of sentimentality that grabbed hold of his heart and soul in a way he wasn’t expecting. Emotion grew inside him in response, almost making it hard to breathe. And another thing he hadn’t bargained for—watching her playing was arousing him in ways he didn’t remember having been aroused before.
But this wasn’t just the music—it was mostly the musician.
She hit the final crescendo and her shoulders sagged, as though the music that had filled her was spent. He waited as the sound slowly evaporated into the air of the room.
“Wow,” he said, in awe of her power. It was going to take a moment or two to let his senses stop reeling. “What was that?”
She shrugged, smiled and seemed to regain her strength quickly. “Just some Rachmaninov,” she said as though it were everyday stuff.
“You have a thing for the Russians?”
She laughed and it animated her whole body. Watching her, he was filled with a sudden need to take her into his arms and hold her close. This was more than desire, more than sexual hunger. What was it? A protective instinct? He shook his head. Where were these strange feelings coming from?
He reacted to women all the time—he knew what that felt like. But this was different. This included another component and he wasn’t sure he wanted to analyze it too closely.
“When it comes to music,” she was saying, starting to rise from the piano bench, “I plead guilty as charged.”
She moved gracefully and he watched her, much as he might watch a bird in flight, appreciating every move and wanting to see more. He had a hunch she would dance almost as beautifully as she played, if only she could feel secure enough in her surroundings.
She offered him a cool drink and he followed her into the kitchen, watching as she efficiently reached for the glasses, the ice, the bottles of flavored water, without missing a beat. The space was small and compact and she obviously knew where everything was. Still, her confident speed impressed him.
“Do you have everything memorized?” he asked her, then wondered if she would be offended at his bringing up her blindness.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he began clumsily, then stopped, realizing he was only making things worse.
She turned towards him, shaking her head and half laughing. “Let’s get one thing straight right now,” she said firmly. “I’m blind, Adam. B-L-I-N-D. Blind! Say it with me. Blind blind blind. I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not denying it. Everybody knows it. You can mention it. It’s the elephant in the room and there’s no use trying to pretend it isn’t there. People who do that tend to trip a lot.”
“You’re right of course,” he said, grinning at how charmingly she was attacking him. “From now on I’ll refer to you as that gorgeous blind chick. Okay?”
She put her head to the side. “Hmm. I rather like that.”
He wanted to kiss her so badly he could hardly stand it. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked her in all candor. “I mean, do you have any conception of how very attractive you are to … to …” He’d been about to say, “men” but he really meant, “me”.
She went motionless for a few seconds, then handed him his drink and turned her face toward his.
“Where’s Jeremy’s mother?” she asked frankly.
He recognized that question immediately for exactly what it was—a way to remind him that they weren’t laying the groundwork for a romance here. She just wasn’t interested, and especially not with a man whose current entanglements she didn’t have a clear picture of.
But instead of letting it put his back up, he realized she deserved an honest answer. And, leaning back against the kitchen counter, he decided that was exactly what he would give her.
“The woman who gave birth to my son is currently working her way through the casting couches of Hollywood,” he said with a certain bitterness. “We don’t refer to her as Jeremy’s mother. She’s never been a real mother to him. Right now Melissa is probably one big break away from becoming a household name. One big break or one spectacular scandal. Whichever comes first. We don’t ever see her.”
Elena was staggered by the tragedy of Jeremy’s situation, and by how calmly Adam laid out the facts, as though they were ordinary and needed no special regrets. “Are you married to her?”
“No.” He stirred the ice cubes in his glass and they clinked against the sides. “She was afraid a marriage license would tend to get in the way of her career.”
“But motherhood didn’t tie her down?”
“Not at all. She dumped it right away. Along with me.”
“I see.”
She had to admit that gave her new insight into this man’s character. If he was the sort of father who stepped up and took responsibility for a child whose mother had abandoned him, despite the fact that he obviously wasn’t particularly good with children, maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d taken him for at first. Many men would have thrown up their hands and decided the child was surely someone else’s problem.
Still, she couldn’t let him know she was prepared to give him any credit. He was definitely a “give the man an inch, he’ll take a mile” type, and she wasn’t handing out inches right now.
“In other words, you picked the wrong woman to have a serious relationship with,” she noted, purposely playing devil’s advocate instead of a sympathizer.
He hesitated and took a sip of cool liquid before he answered. “I guess you could pin that on me. But I haven’t seen a lot of evidence that there are many women out there you
Elena stiffened as though his words attacked her as well as the women he was referring to. “That’s a bit harsh. Are you trying to tell me you don’t know any decent women at all?”
His cynicism was raw and candid. “Let’s put it this way. We’re all human. We all have selfish motives. It just seems to me that women don’t admit it up front. They pretend to have higher ideals and then go right ahead and cheat. You can’t count on them.”
She threw up a hand. “You’ve been burned and you’ll never trust again. Yes, I’ve heard it before.”
“And you’ll hear it again. It’s based on truth.” He frowned and decided turnabout was fair play. “How about you?”
“Me?” She looked surprised at the question.
“Yes, you. You may be proudly blind, but I’m sure you have a love life, too.”
“A love life.” She laughed out loud at the term. “Sorry to disappoint you. I avoid heartbreak right up front. I don’t fall in love. Never have, never will. That makes me almost bulletproof.”
“What about your friend, the one who draws nudes?”
“Gino? He doesn’t date women.”
“Yes, you implied that before.”
“You see?” she said again with an impudent smile. “Bulletproof.”
She turned and walked off and he watched her go. He didn’t believe a word she’d said. She was at least in her mid-twenties and no woman that attractive could have avoided male attention that long.
Did that mean she was just like all the others—making up truth as she went along? He winced. And suddenly he realized he was fighting that concept. He didn’t want to think she was like that. In fact, he needed her to be better than that. So what kind of fool was he, anyway?