Maria moved the wheelchair closer. “Sit where I can reach your shoulders.
He sat on the floor. Her hands rested on his shoulders and she began to massage the tight muscles. Muscular tension ebbed. Emotional tension rose.
“Now sit on the chair. Which hand hurts the most?”
“Right.” He noticed she had moved to one of the chairs at the table. Her leg wasn’t elevated. “Are you sure you should lower your leg?”
“We won’t be long.” She touched his upper right arm and worked her way over the muscles. She paid attention to his wrist. Each circular movement of her thumbs eased the taut bands. His fingers no longer seemed ready to snap.
He heaved a sigh. “Magic.” Not only for the loosening of tight tendons and ligaments but for the stirring of a desire he wanted to deny.
She began on his left arm and hand. “Just a technique I learned in school.”
When she finished he was ready for another session at the piano. “Thanks.” He pushed to his feet.
She grasped his arm. “Do not think about another marathon at the piano.”
The timer dinged. She released him. Jay opened the microwave. Though the aromas of the food stirred his appetite a different hunger took charge. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. Need raced through him with the force of the avalanche. He eased back and cursed her injured ankle.
She reached for the wheelchair. “I have to go.”
He stroked her arm. “Stay.”
She met his gaze. Questions and desire rose. “Would be better if I left.”
“I hate to eat alone.” Her startled laughter intrigued him.
“Really?” Her disbelief was clear.
He chuckled. “I know I do that a lot. Maybe I need…” He lifted her into his arms. “What’s happening here isn’t funny.” He settled on the chair with her on his lap.
“It’s impossible. Let me go.”
“Soon.” His mouth found hers again. Vanilla mixed with a subtle scent of soap and more. As he deepened the kiss a faint hint of arousal swirled around them. He wanted to taste every inch of her lush body. His dick throbbed with urgent demand. He ran his tongue over her lips and knew desire had become mutual.
When her mouth opened for him, he tasted lemon. His arms tightened around her. He swirled his tongue over hers, thrust deep and retreated. Sliding his hand beneath the long tee shirt she wore, he traced the elastic edge of her panties with a finger. Her body relaxed. He slid one hand up to tease her breasts. The nipples tightened against his fingers. Desire raged. He felt like a volcano ready to erupt.
“Let me carry you upstairs." A need to plunge into her depths and feel her inner muscles tighten around his cock rose. “I need you. I want you.”
She straightened. “Not a good idea. Jamie and I have changed sleeping places too many times recently. He wakes and cries. If I’m not there he’ll be afraid."
He stared into her eyes. “It’s going to happen. If not tonight, there’ll be another when you say yes. You want me.”
She lowered her eyelids. “I won’t deny that but I don’t have to act on my feelings. Jamie is my first concern.”
Her words reminded him of why she was in Fern Lake. Rootlets of distrust spread. Until her motives were known, sex and Maria had to be on hold. When would Amos call with the needed information?
He slid her onto the wheelchair. The moment he released her, he missed the warmth. Why did any relationship with her have to be so complicated? The ghost of Delores lingered in his thoughts. He needed to be sure Maria was innocent of any scheme to raid his wallet.
She wheeled the chair to the door. “We need to talk about your hands. Meet Jamie and me for breakfast. I’ll show you some exercises that will help.”
“Not happening. I’ll be in the studio.”
She shook her head. “Eat. Sleep until morning. What would you do if your fingers stopped working?”
He scowled. “Don’t even think that. Composing music is my life.”
“Come to breakfast,” she said. “Mrs. Greene would be glad to see you. She worries. And don’t forget Thursday. Manon and Rafe will be here for dinner. Hopefully she’ll discharge me.”
Thursday. He groaned. He’d forgotten the dinner and wanted to ignore the entire day. Another birthday and another year where few of his dreams had been reached.
“You can always freeze a portion for me.”
“Won’t. Your sister and your son are in charge of your being at the table.”
Once she vanished, Jay dug into the food. Though he felt rejuvenated, music took second place to the kiss. A few hours of sleep would give him the energy to work on the musical. He finished the pot pie and cleared the table.
As he climbed the stairs to the second floor, he made a decision. As soon as he wrapped the musical, he would take a short vacation before seeking a new project.
He stripped and lay on the bed. He couldn’t drive memories of the massage and the kiss from his thoughts. His erection ached. So did his balls. With a groan he stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Though he wanted to weave a fantasy featuring Maria, the moment he grasped himself, he pumped mindlessly until he erupted. He slumped against the wall.
Why Maria? Why this intense desire to possess her? He didn’t trust her but he craved her touch.
Chapter 6
Maria turned on her side and glanced at the clock. Though she felt groggy, something had awakened her. For a moment, she glanced around the room. Where was Jamie? Then she remembered they weren’t at the apartment.
The crashing notes eased into a lush melody. What was wrong with that man? Two or three hours of sleep weren’t enough to erase the stress on his hands and fingers. His obsession with creating new melodies by working in non-stop stretches might end his career early. He needed someone to teach him there were other interests in life.
Could she? She shook her head. Then, memories of the way her body had responded to his kiss. Desire had warred with regret. She wanted to be the one but the ghost of her sister remained a specter haunting him. No sense wishing for what was not to be. She rolled over. The dulcet sounds lulled her to sleep.
“Hungry,” Jamie yelled. “She isn’t here.”
Maria ribbed grit from her eyes. “Jamie, who?”
“The green lady who made pancakes. I’m hungry.”
“Oh, Mrs. Greene.” Maria eased into a sitting position. She tousled his dark curls. What had the older woman said? Oh, shopping today.
Jamie tugged on her hand. “Come on.”
Maria lifted her watch from the bedside table. Just seven. “Let me wash and change clothes. You can watch TV while you wait.”
“Okay.” He dashed from the room.
Maria eased into the wheelchair, gathered a change of clothes and did her morning routine. She finished and entered the sitting room. The only sound she heard was the soft sound of the television.
No music. Had the man crashed? The music began again. She shook her head. Did Jay enjoy punishing himself?
Before long with Jamie’s help, she arranged eggs, cheese and some vegetables on the table. She whipped the eggs with milk and poured them into a heated skillet. Though balancing on one foot at the stove wasn’t wise, she soon slid omelets onto two plates. Jamie brought them to the table.
Music flowed through the open screen door. Looks like he had avoided the breakfast invitation. She chewed a bit of toast and thought about smacking him on the head. Why was he so bent on avoiding time with his son? There had to be a way to break the man’s barriers.
Just as Maria swallowed the last bite of the omelet, Mrs. Greene pulled a cart filled with bulging cloth bags into the kitchen.
"Morning,” Maria said.
The older woman smiled. “Looks like you managed to feed yourself and Jamie.”
“With his help and preparing everything I could at the table. I’ve become proficient at standing on one foot.”
Jamie ran to the door. “Can I go outside?”
<
br /> “Stay in the yard and don’t bother him,” Maria said.
“Do you mean my dad?”
“Yes.”
“Why does he stay there all day and night?”
Maria shrugged. “You can ask him but not now.” Jamie’s grin alerted her. “You heard me. Do not bother him.”
Mrs. Greene lifted a bag from the cart. “Your dad’s not happy when someone pesters him when he’s working.”
Jamie turned back. “When you start working will you stay a long time?”
“My hours at the hospital are when you’re in school. Unless I need to see someone in the evening.”
“What will I do if you don’t come to school for me? Can I stay there all night?”
Maria hadn’t thought about the rare times when she had a patient she couldn’t see during the day. “I’ll find a sitter.”
“I could stay with my dad. I’ll ask him.” He bolted to the door.
“Jamie, the garden not the music room,” Maria called. “Remember what happened the last time you went there.”
“Okay. I’ll find the cat.”
Mrs. Greene laughed. “He’s as stubborn as Jay. When he was a boy, he got ideas and took some doing to turn him around. He spent hours in the music room instead of playing. Wanted to impress his father. I’m glad Jamie has different interests.”
“Only because Nana and I rationed his music time. We went to the park, played ball. I pushed him on the swings. Three mornings a week he went to nursery school.” Maria unloaded a bag and set aside the things she’d ordered. “Do you have a slow cooker so I can start the gravy?”
“I’ll set it up.”
“And a chopping block and knife. The tomatoes need to be scalded so I can remove the skins and seed them.”
Before long with Mrs. Greene’s help, Maria prepared the marinara. By lunch time, the aroma of garlic-laced red sauce filled the room.
Maria made sandwiches. She and Jamie carried them to the garden, found a shady area and ate. The music had stopped. She expected Jay to emerge from his cave but he never appeared. Her cell phone buzzed. “Hello.”
“It’s Manon. How are you feeling?”
“No pain. The swelling is less. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow? If not Jay will have lasagna and other Italian dishes for a week.”
“You bet we’ll be there. Do you mind if I bring a cake?”
“Why?”
“Jay’s birthday.” Manon laughed. “He’ll scowl and say we shouldn’t have but he likes sweets.”
An idea slammed into her thoughts. “I’m making cannolis. Can you find some dark chocolate brownies? I’ll make a cake suited for a music maker.”
Manon laughed. “A keyboard, right?”
“Not an entire one. One octave or two.”
“I’ll be over after lunch. Thursday’s my half-day this week. I’ll bring several ankle braces. We’ll build the cake together.”
Maria chuckled. “It'll be fun.” And like having a friend.
“Where is my brother?”
“Where else?”
Manon’s groan vibrated the phone. “He isn’t getting away with that tomorrow. Rafe and I will drag him out. I really wish he’d get a life.”
Maria stared toward the music room. “Frankly I’m worried about him. Did you know he has hand and arm cramps?”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
Maria reached for the glass of iced coffee. “Last night I massaged both hands. Told him to rest but he didn’t. If he keeps pushing so hard he’ll have real problems.” She bit her lip. If she did another massage while they were alone she would be in deep trouble. She coughed.
“Are you all right?”
“Just swallowed wrong.”
“Hopefully by tomorrow he’ll be done with whatever’s driving him.”
“And if he’s not.”
Manon laughed. “I’ll think of something.”
Maria finished the coffee and called a drooping Jamie inside. While he slept she booted the computer in the sitting room. Fortunately the password was taped on the bottom of the screen. She searched OT sites for information about hands and repetitive stress injuries. After gathering the information she found three by four cards in a desk drawer and wrote an exercise or possible aid on each one. She would give them to him as a birthday present.
Jamie wandered from the bedroom. “What are you doing?”
“Making some presents from us to your dad. Tomorrow’s his birthday.”
“Can we go to the store and buy something?”
“I can’t drive but we can think of something to make.”
Jamie crawled on her lap. “I wanted a lot of lollipops for him. The kind Nana gave me to make me sweet, not sour.”
Maria giggled. “I’ll call Manon and ask her to bring enough to make a bouquet. What do you think about giving him a card for a picnic with you?”
He clapped his hands. “And one to a park with swings and slides. I’ll make a song, too.”
“Sounds great.”
* * *
That evening Jay continued working until he felt certain Maria was asleep. He needed no more fiery kisses.
Liar.
He back-pedaled. Before giving into desire he had to know she wasn’t involved in a scam. His hands clenched. Even thinking about Maria made him harder than trying a two octave stretch. Recalling the hand massage brought a desire to have her talented fingers massaging his body.
Enough.
He left the lights on in the studio and headed for the kitchen. The aroma of garlic and tomatoes made his stomach growl. He opened the fridge, took bread, cold cuts and cheese. He grabbed a beer and ate while dashing upstairs. Sleep for three hours, shower and back to the studio. All the songs needed tweaking. Then he could let the director, producer, lyricist and his agent know the show was good to go.
What then? He finished the sandwich and sprawled on his bed. Maybe a couple weeks away from Fern Lake and the piano would clear Maria from his thoughts.
You can’t leave.
What had triggered that thought? Sleep claimed him before he found an answer.
At five thirty his phone alarm roused him. He grabbed clothes and hit the shower. His morning erection pulsed. While water poured over him, he grasped his shaft and imagined Maria’s hands stroking him. He spilled and slumped against the wall. Too fast. What would happen when fantasy became a reality? Would he react like a randy teenager and explode instantly?
Was he going crazy? Every time he closed his eyes, she was in his head messing with his emotions. These episodes had to stop. Today, his sister planned to check Maria’s ankle and hopefully clear her to go home. If she wasn’t in the house maybe he could put the craziness to rest.
As he hurried downstairs he carried his shoes. Though the suite was distant from the central house he didn’t want to wake her or his son. Seeing either would bring an avalanche of feelings rolling over him. Damn, all this thinking unraveled his determination not to let another Russo woman into his life.
In preparation for the final push he filled a thermos with strong coffee and strode to the studio. He opened the score and began with the overture and played from start to finish, making only a few notes. While he stroked the keys, in his head he heard an orchestra and voices.
With earphones he listened to the tape and made any corrections needed, then played the entire score again. He made CDs for the interested parties. Then on to making copies of the score.
At quarter to five he finished. He rubbed his aching hands and fumbled with the phone. Finally he made the calls intending to leave messages. “Score done. Sending CDs, Faxing the score but will mail copies with the CD’s.” Instead of voice mail several people answered.
“Good to hear,” the lyricist said. What next?”
“Time off. Work on my own projects.”
“Keep me in mind. Just ran across a terrific story and have ideas forming.”
“Wait until this one soars or flops.”
�
�Don’t even think of failure.”
Moments later. The producer chuckled. “Are you a machine? Heard you finished a movie score. Do you work twenty-four/seven?”
“More like eighteen. Was lucky while working on the score. Found some pieces I wrote years ago that filled the gaps.”
Jay hung up after his agent agreed to do all the paperwork. He packaged the CDs and scores, called for a pickup and put them in the basket outside the garden gate. He returned and faxed the scores.
Time for a shower and bed. He opened the door into the main house. Jamie fell into the room. “What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to hear the music and know when you finished. Happy Birthday. I made you a present.”
“Really.”
“Aunt Ria made lasagna. It’s really good. There’s company. It’s a party.”
Jay groaned. This was the day Manon was coming to check Maria’s ankle and…dinner. Where his sister appeared her husband was at her side. For an instant he allowed a bit of envy over his sister’s and his best friend’s happiness to surface.
Jay tried to free his hand from his son’s grasp. “I need to shower and change clothes before dinner.”
“Okay.” Jamie followed up the backstairs. “It’s a party but you don’t have to get dressed up.” He sat in front of the bedroom door. “I’ll wait here.”
Jay laughed. His son had a tenacity that reminded him of Maria’s order to spare his hands. “I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”
“I’ll wait.”
After a quick shower and a change of clothes into jeans and a buttoned shirt, he opened the door. He stepped into the hall and pulled Jamie to his feet. “All set.”
Jamie tilted his head. “You brushed your hair. Aunt Ria did mine.”
Jay held Jamie’s hand. “Let’s go. I’m famished.”
“What that means?”
“I’m very hungry.”
“Famished, famished,” Jamie chanted.
Jay strolled down the hall with his son. Jamie tugged him into the dining room. Dust covers had vanished. The cherry wood of the furniture gleamed. Maria stood beside the sideboard. No wheelchair meant she and Jamie could leave. Though he’d seen little of them during the past few days, regret filled his thoughts. He would be alone again but that was his choice. Or had he changed?
Melodic Dreams Page 6
