out. If it does, it’ll destroy my career.”
As a high-profile musician and one of the hottest bachelors in Harlem, she knew the media would have a field day if they learned he was illiterate.
“No one will know. I promise,” she assured him, keeping her voice light in spite of the emotions churning within her. “I live a very quiet, boring life and I’d like it to stay that way.”
“I don’t think anything about you would qualify as boring.”
She bit her lower lip with pleasure, although she was unsure whether he meant it as a compliment.
“Tommy told me about the big money I’m going to give to you.”
She shook her head. “You mean donate. None of it is going to me personally. It’s going to fund Beacon House.”
He gave her a curious stare, then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter because you’re both nuts. There’s no way I can learn how to read in one weekend,” he insisted.
She nodded. “You’re right. You won’t be able to read War and Peace, but I promise you’ll be able to read a simple children’s book by Monday.”
Alex shoved his hands into his jeans, revealing a thin line of hair at the base of his abdomen that Cara longed to trace to its final destination.
He sounded doubtful. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
She looked him in the eye. “Of course you do,” she asserted. “You can quit, but look at your options. If you do the tour, your record company is happy and no one knows a thing. If you don’t do the tour, it’ll be a PR nightmare. I’m willing to bet they already sent out the press release, right?”
“Yes. My publicist was overjoyed. At least one of us is happy.”
“So, what reason could you possibly give for backing out now?”
He smoothed his hand over his perfectly round, bald head and gave a sigh of resignation. “I guess the dog ate my homework wouldn’t fly, would it?”
She grinned. “It’s going to be okay. I promise,” she said, reassuring him. “If you don’t want to continue with the reading lessons after the tour, you don’t have to. But regardless, your secret will be safe.”
And so will mine.
Alex stared at her a moment, and Cara knew he was debating whether to trust her or not. She had to figure out a way to make him feel at ease with her…and soon.
Slipping his hands out of his pockets, he pushed away from the window with his shoulder. “I’m going to take a quick shower and finish packing before my limo arrives.”
Panic sluiced through her veins. Tommy had told her Alex’s schedule was clear for the weekend. They needed to spend as much time as possible on the lessons and not be disturbed. “Limo? What limo?”
“The one taking us to my home in the Catskill Mountains.”
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “But I thought I was going to be teaching you here, in Harlem.”
He shook his head. “I’d already planned to spend a long weekend in the mountains. I’m supposed to be relaxing, remember? I’m not changing those plans for anybody. Is that a problem?”
The reality of his words hit full force and a shudder of excitement went through her.
Alone with Alex in the Catskills. Where there were no taxis, no takeout and no escape? She was already a hot mess about being with him in his Harlem town house.
She wasn’t scared of him, just unused to being alone with a man she was attracted to for an extended period of time. Her dates were few and far between, and most of them never made it as far as her bed. Devoted to her work, the words sex and social life were missing from her personal dictionary.
There’s really no need to worry, she told herself. Alex was her student. She was his teacher. The lines were clearly drawn. Remembering how he’d looked at her at the front door, she, like most women, knew when a man was attracted to her.
And Alex Dovington most certainly was not.
The same could not be said for her.
It was difficult not to stare at him as he stood there, maddeningly out of reach, body cut and chiseled to perfection like a Renaissance statue. The man was off the hook, and off-limits, yet her eyes yearned to do what her lips could not—devour him.
His shoulders moved forward, snapping her back to reality.
“Sorry. I lost my train of thought for a second. That’ll be fine. I just need to run home and pack. I should be back in a couple of hours.”
He nodded, and she kept her eyes on him as he walked out. After he left, she grabbed her purse and dug for cab fare.
He popped his head in the room and she dropped her bag in surprise. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I was an absolute terror in school. My teachers hid behind their desks when I walked into the room. Fair warning.”
His voice was stern, but she detected a hint of a smile on his lips.
She arched an eyebrow. “I guess I’ll just have to get creative to keep you interested.”
Where did that come from?
Judging by the odd look on his face, he was just as surprised as she was.
“If you want to grab something to drink before you leave, the kitchen is at the end of the hallway. Help yourself.”
Cara waited until he went upstairs, and then drifted over to the little alcove where gold records ornamented the wall. Tucking a curl behind her ear, she gazed at the Grammy Award, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Had she been flirting with him just now?
She almost laughed out loud. Absolutely not. When it came to devising enticing lines to attract the opposite sex, she got a big, fat F.
Passing the piano, her feet kicked something out of the way. Looking down, she saw a balled-up piece of manuscript paper that had somehow escaped burial. She glanced over her shoulder before picking it up.
Smoothing out the wrinkles with the palm of her hand, she hummed the melody. It was the tune he was playing when arrived. Smiling, she refolded the music and stuck it into her purse.
On her way to the kitchen, her smile faded when it suddenly struck her that there were no pictures of
Alex’s friends or family around, not even of his brother, Michael.
Every small room in her own apartment was filled with pictures, memories frozen in time. She cherished each one, especially the ones of her mother who died when she was nine years old.
Shouldering her purse and briefcase, Cara selected a bottle of juice from the fridge. Her mind wandered to Alex’s numerous records, the U.S. and European concert tours, the sold-out performances at jazz clubs across the country and the world. All were trophies to his artistic talent.
But
