stared at each other for a long time and he realized his muscles had relaxed. Mikey was still crying but intermittently. The restless urge to move had stabilized and for the first time since the explosion, he didn’t want to go climb something or fly something or jump off something to beat back the weight of life.
“Hey, Ju, do you still play the violin?” The question flew from his mouth in hopes of keeping her in his bed for a while longer. He wanted to talk some more. And he liked the view.
“No. I haven’t played since college.”
The forlorn note in her voice tightened his chest. He’d loved listening to her play with the campus chamber group, could still see her in his mind, bow raised, her elation flying through the air with the notes. “You were good. Why did you quit?”
She shrugged. “Busy. It’s hard to take time for something frivolous when you have so much going on.”
Somehow he’d moved toward the bed, knees bumping the mattress. Since he was already here, he might as well sit. “But you loved playing. If you love it, it’s not frivolous.”
No wonder she seemed so unhappy—she’d stopped letting the music feed her soul.
With a wry smile, she lay back against his pillow and a flash of memory overlaid the present—one of her reclined exactly like that, but naked, eyes hot with anticipation as she waited for him.
“Says the man who builds spaceships in his spare time. Not everyone gets to do whatever they want with their life.”
And with that bucket of cold water, the memory extinguished. Yes, he was lucky to get to follow his passion. A passion that had killed the most important people in his life. Juliana had once been on that list and all of a sudden, the list felt really blank.
“What would you be if you could be anything?”
“A mom,” she said softly. “Not in the cards.”
“Your ex didn’t want children?”
He shifted, brushing a hand across her leg accidentally-on-purpose. She jolted as if she’d taken a slug to the torso.
“You knew I’d been married?”
After she’d agreed to help him, a discreet P.I. out of Dallas had done exhaustive research on her and Eric Whittaker, the accountant she’d been married to for three years. “I came across it.”
Her ex was a dweeb with vacant eyes, who’d obviously sucked in bed if Shay’s casual touch caused such a visible reaction. If Mikey took a few days to adjust, this late-night-rendezvous deal might work in his favor. He could do some more rattling. A hot and thick flood drained into his lower half at the thought of the reaction he might get with a few better-placed touches.
She sighed with a heavy lift of her chest. “He wanted children. We tried the natural way, then the artificial way. Science isn’t good enough to overcome the defects of nature.”
“I’m sorry. That’s when you read all those baby books, isn’t it?” Her tight nod said everything she didn’t. “Is it hard to be here, with Mikey?”
Surprise flitted across her face. “I’m a professional. I’ll do my job.”
“Hey.” He leaned forward and took her hand. She’d extended the olive branch of friendship and he’d done nowhere near enough to pick it up. Of course, he didn’t intend to stop there, but it was a good start. “I’m asking because you interest me. Not because I think you’ll shirk your responsibilities.”
Some pretty major stuff had happened in her life. Rattling his way past the professional barrier she’d erected was going to be harder than he’d expected. But he’d find a way.
She looked down at their joined fingers and faked a yawn. “Mikey’s asleep. Good night.”
Then she slipped away.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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