Read Online Passionate Persuasion (Entangled Indulgence) by Rosemary Clement-Moore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosemary Clement-Moore
Tags: Contemporary Romance, music, Military, Authors, Journalist, romantic suspense, alpha male, Anthology, love, enemies to lovers, reunited lovers, Entangled, indulgence, tycoon, date, businessman, dating blog, blind date, books on dating, on the run, medic, Jill Monroe, romantic short stories, Port Calypso, Shannon Godwin, Gwen Hayes, love advice, Candace Havens, Rosemary Clement, cello, Shannon Leigh
Ads: Link
Magdalena at this hour. Not that it was likely there were roving bands of cello thieves on Waterfront Drive, but…
But she didn’t want to leave.
She didn’t want to let him push her away, no matter how tacitly, how gently.
Even if she knew that’s what he was laying there planning to do.
Chapter Seven
The marquee tent had been transformed to a temporary ballroom in the middle of Waterfront Park. A red carpet led to the door, and a chandelier lit the banquet tables and portable parquet floor. If not for the one rolled up side, Kiara would never have known they were at the end of the city’s pier.
Magdalena knew. The humidity was playing merry hell with her tuning and she and Mr. J.S. Bach were getting along about as well as Kiara’s relationship with Alex Drake: beautiful music that kept trying to go out of tune.
Things had played out in the last weeks as she’d expected. He was busy, she was busy. Intimate dinners turned strained when talk turned to the future. Then finally, she’d called him on the cold shoulder, or feet, or whatever, and they’d had a fight—or whatever you call a fight when it pretty much consists of “Well, fine, be that way”—and she hadn’t seen him for a week.
Well, she’d seen him. For a city of its size, Port Calypso could be a really small place. Plus, they were both working on the soiree, so while she was practicing with the quartet, he was delivering alcohol and organizing the wait staff and the bar, marshalling them like an army. An army of loyal, smiling troops.
She had tried not to notice, just like she’d tried not to notice him there tonight.
Kiara paused to retune and refocus before the last piece of the set. More Bach. The Suite Number three in D, which would now always make her think of Alex. Also unfortunate, it was an extremely popular piece, so everyone would know if she screwed it up.
On the plus side, it was all played on one string, so she only had to worry about the G staying in tune.
The piano began the accompaniment, and Kiara lowered her eyes as she started the first sustained note—one long slide of the bow across the string, then the next, almost as long, then into the turn around. There was both a pastoral sweetness to the tune, and an aching poignancy. The harmonics of the cello were almost like a human voice, which was why she loved it, why she felt like the instrument was a part of her.
The tent quieted at the first notes of the crowd favorite, but the people didn’t bother her. Playing was the one time Kiara never felt self-conscious. Nervous, right before she got started, and intent on accuracy and artistry. But then she threw herself into the piece, into the music, and bowed bravely. That was the only way she knew how to play.
She lifted her gaze briefly and found Alex watching her from the far side of the marquee. He wore a tuxedo, and he looked so good in black and white. It suited him the way she knew the scarlet dress she wore suited her.
She turned her attention back to the notes, to the friction of bow across string. She played for Alex for a few bars, letting the notes tell him that she wished she could fix what was broken, asking him to meet her halfway. Then she broadened her focus and let the audience back in on the song, and when she looked up again, Alex was gone, as if she’d imagined him.
Or driven him away.
God, this suite was the longest five minutes of her life.
Finally it came to the end, and she let the last notes ring, the pianist ending in perfect time and tune. The applause covered Kiara’s exhale of relief. She stood, dipped a small bow of thanks, acknowledged the pianist, and carried Magdalena to her case behind the temporary stage.
“Well played,” said Tom, the second violin in the quartet, as he stowed his own instrument. “Ready for a break?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m headed to the green room in a sec.”
In this case, the green room was a smaller tent set up to house the prep workers and
But she didn’t want to leave.
She didn’t want to let him push her away, no matter how tacitly, how gently.
Even if she knew that’s what he was laying there planning to do.
Chapter Seven
The marquee tent had been transformed to a temporary ballroom in the middle of Waterfront Park. A red carpet led to the door, and a chandelier lit the banquet tables and portable parquet floor. If not for the one rolled up side, Kiara would never have known they were at the end of the city’s pier.
Magdalena knew. The humidity was playing merry hell with her tuning and she and Mr. J.S. Bach were getting along about as well as Kiara’s relationship with Alex Drake: beautiful music that kept trying to go out of tune.
Things had played out in the last weeks as she’d expected. He was busy, she was busy. Intimate dinners turned strained when talk turned to the future. Then finally, she’d called him on the cold shoulder, or feet, or whatever, and they’d had a fight—or whatever you call a fight when it pretty much consists of “Well, fine, be that way”—and she hadn’t seen him for a week.
Well, she’d seen him. For a city of its size, Port Calypso could be a really small place. Plus, they were both working on the soiree, so while she was practicing with the quartet, he was delivering alcohol and organizing the wait staff and the bar, marshalling them like an army. An army of loyal, smiling troops.
She had tried not to notice, just like she’d tried not to notice him there tonight.
Kiara paused to retune and refocus before the last piece of the set. More Bach. The Suite Number three in D, which would now always make her think of Alex. Also unfortunate, it was an extremely popular piece, so everyone would know if she screwed it up.
On the plus side, it was all played on one string, so she only had to worry about the G staying in tune.
The piano began the accompaniment, and Kiara lowered her eyes as she started the first sustained note—one long slide of the bow across the string, then the next, almost as long, then into the turn around. There was both a pastoral sweetness to the tune, and an aching poignancy. The harmonics of the cello were almost like a human voice, which was why she loved it, why she felt like the instrument was a part of her.
The tent quieted at the first notes of the crowd favorite, but the people didn’t bother her. Playing was the one time Kiara never felt self-conscious. Nervous, right before she got started, and intent on accuracy and artistry. But then she threw herself into the piece, into the music, and bowed bravely. That was the only way she knew how to play.
She lifted her gaze briefly and found Alex watching her from the far side of the marquee. He wore a tuxedo, and he looked so good in black and white. It suited him the way she knew the scarlet dress she wore suited her.
She turned her attention back to the notes, to the friction of bow across string. She played for Alex for a few bars, letting the notes tell him that she wished she could fix what was broken, asking him to meet her halfway. Then she broadened her focus and let the audience back in on the song, and when she looked up again, Alex was gone, as if she’d imagined him.
Or driven him away.
God, this suite was the longest five minutes of her life.
Finally it came to the end, and she let the last notes ring, the pianist ending in perfect time and tune. The applause covered Kiara’s exhale of relief. She stood, dipped a small bow of thanks, acknowledged the pianist, and carried Magdalena to her case behind the temporary stage.
“Well played,” said Tom, the second violin in the quartet, as he stowed his own instrument. “Ready for a break?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m headed to the green room in a sec.”
In this case, the green room was a smaller tent set up to house the prep workers and
Similar Books
