even realized they were missing until he’d reached his apartment the other night. But by then his sense—both emotional and intellectual—had returned. He’d decided to wait, hoping she’d call and tell him she’d leave the shoes in the hall along with her boxes.
She’d done neither.
He hooked his fingers into the knotted laces, deftly retrieving the shoes without touching her. Still, he was forced to drop the shoes just inside the doorway, unnerved by the strength of the echo she’d left on the laces alone. He shifted his grip on the door and eased it shut. “Thank you.”
“Wait.”
He stopped. “Yes?”
Her pupils widened, causing her gaze to darken as the inner ring of brown crowded out the flecks of green. “I, ah, wondered if your offer regarding the boxes was still good.”
He nodded. “Just leave them in the hall. They’ll be gone by morning.” Fortunately, she didn’t ask how, or by whom.
But neither did she leave.
“Did you need something else?”
“No. Yes. That is, I’d like to—” Her gaze swept his features. Narrowed slightly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I hate to be rude, but you don’t look so good. In fact, you’re paler than you were the other night.” Her stare shifted to his temple. Fortunately, the butterfly bandages she’d applied were obscured by his hair. “Is your cut—”
“It’s healing properly.” But more quickly than she’d ever believe possible. Truth be told, at the moment that cut was the only part of him that didn’t feel as if he’d been kicked out of the side of a small plane at ten thousand feet sans parachute. “However, it has been a long day. I was about to step in the shower….” He trailed off deliberately, hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t.
Worse, her gaze dropped to his chest. She stared.
Studied.
From the shift in her aura and growing fascination in those soft hazel eyes, he assumed she was merely tabulating the results of his dogged pursuit of motocross, auto racing, skydiving, as well as half a dozen other so-called extreme sports before he’d figured out that free climbing provided the most bang for the adrenaline-induced buck—or rather, the most effective dulling. But then he noticed her stare had settled on his left pectoral, directly over his heart.
He shifted his T-shirt as discreetly as he could and covered the tattoo.
“Well?” He hadn’t meant to sound quite so clipped. But he had succeeded in wrenching her gaze from his chest. “Did you need something, or not?”
Her aura shifted once more. Sharpened. Darkened.
“Not.” A moment later she smoothed her features. He felt her attempt to smooth her mood as well. To lighten it along with her heart. She retrieved a slim white envelope from the back pocket of her jeans and held it out. “Consider it a thank-you for getting rid of the boxes.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Nonsense. I insist.” When he still didn’t take it, she nudged the envelope closer. “Contrary to my behavior the other night, I swear it’s not a letter bomb. It’s a pair of tickets for the symphony Saturday night. Bring a guest.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t—”
“You’re already going?”
He shook his head. Not in this lifetime.
“You already have plans?”
He should have lied but discovered he couldn’t. “No.”
“Then I don’t understand. What’s the problem? You’ll don a tux to climb a building, but can’t be bothered to suit up for an evening of Mozart?” A tiny dimple dipped in at the right of her lips as she smiled, attempting to tease him into accepting. “Trust me, contrary to certain rumors it’s not a fate worse than death.”
If she only knew.
He shook his head again. Firmly. Even as a recent addition to the orchestra, he doubted she’d had to pay for the tickets. Still, there was no sense in wasting them. He was about to shut the door on the tickets as well as further argument when she stepped forward to tuck the envelope in his hand. He sucked in his breath as her fingertips grazed his.
That was all it took.
Like that violin she’d carried to work these past two mornings, he was instantly, completely in tune—with her.
He jerked back instinctively.
A moment later he felt her suspicion as it seared into his heart. The knot of stinging tears followed again, in his own throat as well as hers. Her lips thinned as the profound disappointment and utter disgust locked in. “Don’t worry, Mr. Sabura. It’s not contagious.”
She spun around as he struggled to recover.
“Abby!”
She stopped. But she refused to turn back.
He swallowed his shame. “It has nothing to do with Brian or his Down’s syndrome. Now or regarding the board meeting. I swear.”
Her braid shifted as she nodded. But she didn’t believe him. Though common sense advised against it, something deep inside forced him to try again.
“Please…I never meant to hurt you.”
Well, you did.
She hadn’t said the words, but she might as well have. He could feel them. He still felt them, and her, as she stepped away from the door, bypassing the elevator on her right in favor of the stairs. Irony bit as Abby descended. He’d purchased all four of the apartments on the nineteenth floor years before to create a buffer from the rest of the building’s inhabitants and the roiling emotions of their daily lives.
If anything, the empty floor now served to magnify the effect she had on him.
Now more than ever.
Resigned, he turned into his apartment and closed the door as she closed hers, two floors below. He crossed the length of his living room, then headed down the hallway, piercingly aware that she, too, was heading down her hall. But while Abby stopped shy of her bedroom, he forced himself to continue to his, to slump down at the edge of his bed and wait for the connection to ebb. Though the contact had been slight, he had no idea how long it would take. He only had the one experience to compare this—her—to. And yet, he already knew this woman and the inexplicable hold she had over him was completely different. Already it was stronger, and growing stronger with each passing day. Every hour.
Every note.
He lay back on his bed as Abby tucked her violin beneath her chin, retrieved her bow and began to play. Neither the nimble grace nor the haunting poise of her technique surprised him. She’d played with same breathtaking skill and uninhibited
