Leaning against the arched doorway of the hotel’s eatery, he felt content watching her then as he had the night before. Almost. The same serenity and calm reached out to him from where she relaxed at the table across the dining room. He shook his head and smiled, taking note of her feet propped in the chair across from where she sat. He couldn’t help but admire her determination to relax wherever it suited her. Telling the sensible, less popular side of himself to go to hell, Therin pushed off the doorway and strolled toward her.
Early rising wasn’t unusual for Kianti given her hectic life of tours and rehearsals. Still, she did make a point of treating herself to a few mornings of sleeping in when she traveled extensively.
Sadly, sleeping in now meant having to wake up to her doctor and a morning pill. An early breakfast meant she could convince Brody she’d already taken her meds. She only prayed he wouldn’t suspect she’d taken herself off them. At least not until she could prove she didn’t need them anymore. Her dark eyes were focused beyond the windows by her table. The gorgeous dewy morning rear view of the hotel landscape was heavenly, but the cologne drifting past her nose just then was to die for. She smiled up at Therin.
“Mr. Ambassador.” Her dark eyes widened just slightly when she took note of the shyness evident in his expression.
“Ex-ambassador,” he clarified, pressing a hand to the front of the sweatshirt emblazoned with the Knicks logo.
She simply shrugged. “But you never quite live it down, do you?”
Once again that morning, Therin felt his mouth turn into a grimace. “I’m realizing that more and more every day.” He sighed.
Kianti’s smile waned. She’d never really known a politician, but it was clear this one wasn’t missing his post all that much. She would have loved to have known why.
“You look pretty young to have been an ambassador.” She decided to keep the moment light.
“Guess I’ve got my dad to thank for that. May I?” He gestured toward the vacant chair next to the one she’d propped her feet on.
“Please.” She was about to move her feet when he brought a hand down over them. Kianti bit her lip and stilled.
The muscle flexed in Therin’s jaw at the contact. He moved his hand, hoping she’d not recognize his reluctance to do so.
“So your dad wanted you to be an ambassador?” She needed to bring conversation to the front of her mind instead of the unexpected agitating throbs that made her want to moan.
“My dad was a U.S. diplomat,” Therin obliged, needing the conversation, as well. “When I was a kid, watching Face The Nation was as commonplace as watching Sesame Street.”
“Fascinating,” Kianti breathed, shifting a bit to get more comfy at the table.
Therin must have feared she’d move her feet because he possessively dropped his hand across them. They were small, perfectly proportioned and covered only by a pair of sheer hose.
“I had a capacity for politics but not a passion,” he confided while absently applying a light massage to the tops of her feet. “I think they offered me the post because of my father.” He grunted. “I’d have never campaigned for it or anything else.”
“So the favorite son makes good.”
“Ha! More like the only son.”
“Well, well, pleased to meet another member of the Only Child Club.” Kianti offered him her hand to shake.
Therin played along. “So your parents didn’t want to try for another musical genius?”
“Nah.” Kianti fidgeted with the draping neckline of her walnut-brown sweater. “My mother didn’t have a—how did you put it?—a capacity for raising more than one. Besides, it wasn’t worth it to her—taking the chance of producing a normal kid.”
Therin’s bright eyes narrowed at her word choice, but there was no time to inquire.
“Please forgive the wait, Mr. Ambassador.” The waiter was flushed and out of breath.
“Not a problem. Just juice and whatever Ms. Lawrence is having.”
“Yes, sir.” The young man scribbled the order furiously. “Right away, sir.”
“I feel like such an idiot.” Kianti shook her head and watched the server sprint away. “Everyone knows who you are and I didn’t have a clue.”
“And you have no idea how pleased I am to hear that.” He cast a disinterested glance across his shoulder and smirked. “Besides, they school the staff on the so-called ‘big wigs.’ Better tips, you know?” He winked.
When she threw her head back to laugh, Therin decided he was in need of conversation to keep the moment from growing too charged. “So why do you consider yourself other than normal?” he asked.
“Well, prodigies aren’t exactly the norm, are they?” Kianti rested her chin to her palm.
He nodded, realizing her point. “Hard life?”
“I suppose.” She studied the pattern embroidered into the white tablecloth. “But what are you gonna do? It’s the only life I’ve ever known—didn’t know any better until I had something to compare it to.” She fixed him with a whimsical look. “Kids playing in the street while I’m in the house playing Bach.”
Laughter rose heartily then.
“So may I question your ‘only son’ remark?” she probed once the waiter had brought out Therin’s juice and topped off her decaf.
“Mmm.” He winced while taking a sip of the drink. “Was hoping you hadn’t caught that.”
“Come on, fess up.” She waved her hands in a beckoning manner. “It’s only fair. I rarely share my child prodigy stories.” Her gaze softened as she studied the pensive look on his very handsome face. “Did you regret not having brothers or sisters?”
“Maybe, but it’s the only life I’ve known—nothing to compare it to, as you said.”
“Touché.” Kianti sent him a mock salute.
Food arrived and soon the two were dining on over-easy eggs, steak strips and toast.
“Guess that’s why I took up the interests I have,” Therin said around a bite of steak.
Kianti nodded. “Politics.”
He smiled. “Education.”
She tilted her head at a cocky angle. “Now you’ve really got me interested. Talk, man!”
They dived into the incredible breakfast of fruit, seasoned browns and scrambled eggs. Seated next to an enviable view in a peaceful dining room they chatted like longtime acquaintances.
“Growing up…privy to dedicated teachers and fine schools made me naively think that was the norm,” he shared. “Then I realized that too many parents, and kids, for that matter, wouldn’t put dedicated teachers and fine schools together in the same book.
