by M. J. Duncan
Contents
Other Books by MJ Duncan
Copyright
Symphony in Blue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Acknowledgements
OTHER BOOKS BY MJ DUNCAN
Second Chances
Veritas
Spectrum
Atramentum
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by MJ Duncan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without prior written permission from the author.
Cover art © 2017 MJ Duncan
ONE
Gwen Harrison hefted her cello case higher on her back as she wandered into the waiting elevator, pulling her carry-on suitcase behind her. She double-checked the paper sleeve with her room key, and yawned as she pressed her thumb to the button for the eleventh floor. The five hour flight from Los Angeles to Maui had only ticked off three hours on the clock thanks to the difference in time zones, but as far as her body was concerned it was still close to two in the morning and she was exhausted.
She rubbed a tired hand over her face and then pushed the button for her floor again. The extra push must have been all the elevator needed because the doors began to slide shut, and she let out a quiet cheer as she anticipated finally getting to her room.
“Penguins!” a distinctly adult, female voice cried exuberantly from the lobby.
Gwen looked up through the shrinking gap of the closing doors and frowned. She could understand a child being excited about the African Penguins that were in a stacked lava stone enclosure in the lobby with a beach and small pond for swimming, but it seemed ridiculous for an adult to harbor that same enthusiasm. Granted, she had stopped and watched the cute little guys sleeping for a few minutes herself, but there was a difference between thinking, ‘Ooh, penguins!’ and shouting it for all to hear.
A second later, a new female voice that was an elegant blend of smoke and honey threatened, “I swear to god, Waterman, if you keep this shit up, I’m going to take my leg off and beat you with it.”
Gwen’s frown deepened. That was, without a doubt, the most unusual threat she had ever heard in her life.
“PLEASE HOLD THE DOOR!” the same low, smoky-smooth voice that had just threatened violence against the woman Gwen assumed was named Waterman hollered as a scant eighteen inch opening separated the elevator doors.
The tenor of pure panic in the woman’s voice was enough to propel Gwen forward despite her desire to do nothing more than crawl into bed and sleep off the twenty-hour day she was so close to wrapping up, and her eyes shot to the elevator doors as she drove the pad of her thumb into the button that should force them to reverse course.
The elevator seemed immune to the command, however, and the large brass-plated doors continued to slide slowly shut.
Twelve inches.
Eight.
“Fuck! Come on, Waterman! I promise we’ll look at the damn penguins tomorrow, okay?”
Five.
Gwen was about to throw her arm into the gap to activate the safety feature that made all elevator doors stop closing when they encountered an object in their way when the doors finally stalled and began to reverse direction. She blew out a soft sigh of relief and quickly moved away from the control panel, the hard case strapped to her back thumping against the wall as she did her best to get out of the way of whoever would be joining her.
Two women stumbled into the elevator a moment later, and Gwen wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol that followed them. The taller of the two stood an inch or two over six feet, and had short, tousled sandy-blond hair that was more sand than blond but too light to be considered brown, and broad, tanned shoulders and muscled arms that were on tantalizing display thanks to the tight black tank she wore. Gwen bit her lip as she let her gaze slide lower, over small, pert breasts and the narrow line where the woman’s tank disappeared into a pair of tight, faded jeans that sat low on her hips and clung to the sculpted curve of her ass and thighs. She was, without a doubt, the most striking woman Gwen had ever seen.
Her companion had bright green eyes and wavy, copper-colored hair that tickled her shoulders. The redhead was about the same height as Gwen, and the top of her head just reached the taller woman’s shoulder. She was wearing a white tank and khaki shorts, and though she was not as tanned, her skin was still a healthy sun-kissed bronze. She had one arm draped over the taller woman’s shoulders and, as Gwen watched them, it quickly became clear that the only reason she was able to remain upright at all was the muscled arm that was wrapped securely around her waist.
“Thanks for holding the car,” the sandy-blonde said without glancing in Gwen’s direction as she maneuvered the redhead to the back of the elevator and pushed her up against the rear wall. “Stay there, Waterman.”
The redhead, Waterman, smiled a wide, drunk smile as she grabbed onto the safety bar that circled the car at waist height. “Good wall.”
“Exactly,” the taller woman chuckled, running a hand through her hair as she turned away from her friend. “Oh,” she breathed, her electric blue eyes widening ever so slightly as they landed on Gwen.
Gwen became instantly aware of how disheveled she must appear as those bright eyes drifted over her. Her jeans and pale pink tee were undoubtedly wrinkled from sitting on a plane for over five hours, and she could feel that more than a few tendrils of her thick, chestnut-colored hair had slipped out of the sloppy bun she had pulled it up into while waiting at the rental car counter. There was no hint of disapproval in the woman’s gaze, however, and Gwen’s pulse tripped over itself when the left side of her mouth quirked up in a small, lopsided smile as their gazes locked.
“Thanks again for holding the elevator.”
Gwen swallowed hard and did her best to ignore the way her stomach became suddenly alight with butterflies when that amazing voice was directed her way. “Of course. What floor do you need?”
“Ten.”
Before Gwen could press the appropriate button, Waterman launched herself across the elevator, shouting, “I’ll do it!”
Gwen just barely managed to get out of her way without being trampled, and could only watch in amused horror as Waterman pulled the most epic Buddy the Elf impersonation ever, gleefully running her ha
nds over every button on the elevator’s control panel.
Twice.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the taller woman apologized as she grabbed Waterman by the wrists and pulled her away from the buttons before she could hit them all for a third time.
Gwen’s eyes went wide as Waterman wavered on her feet, and just when she was sure that she was about to take a header into the wall, the redhead hooked her left arm around the back of her friend’s neck in a surprising display of athleticism to keep herself upright.
“I’m getting married tomorrow!” Waterman announced as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing Gwen in with the pair.
Gwen laughed and nodded. “Congratulations.”
“I’m so sorry,” the taller woman apologized again, rolling her eyes at Waterman’s antics.
“Don’t be.” Gwen shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“It’s really not.”
“She’s drunk.”
“As a skunk,” the woman agreed with a laugh as she guided Waterman back to the rear wall of the car to help her stay on her feet. “But that still doesn’t excuse this level of assholery,” she added, tipping her head at the fully-lit control panel.
Gwen chuckled at her phrasing as she glanced at the lit board. “Yes, well…”
The elevator started to rise with a low hum, and Waterman pointed at Gwen as she loudly whispered in the taller woman’s ear, too drunk to control the volume of her voice, “She’s pretty.”
Gwen blushed as the taller woman nodded and pushed the finger pointed at her back down to her side.
“Yes, she is.” She smiled apologetically at Gwen. “But we don’t point. It’s rude.”
“I’m Regan,” the redhead introduced herself with all the brazen tact of an overly-friendly two-year-old. She wrestled her hand free and grinned as she slapped her friend on the chest. “This is my best man, Dana.”
Regan’s hand landed squarely on Dana’s left breast, and Gwen quickly looked down to hide her smile.
“Hand, Waterman,” Dana warned.
Gwen closed her eyes and prayed she had the strength to not laugh out loud. She lost that battle, however, when she heard Regan delightedly giggle, “Boobie.”
“Seriously?” Dana groaned.
Still chuckling, Gwen looked up just in time to see Regan let go of Dana’s breast. Dana’s expression was a priceless mix of annoyed amusement, and Gwen shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Dana sighed and shook her head. “I’d laugh too, if I were you.”
Already over having fondled her friend, Regan turned her attention back to Gwen as the elevator stopped at the second floor. “What’s your name?”
Gwen shook her head at the apologetic smile quirking Dana’s lips and looked at Regan, whose green eyes were regarding her with a disquieting level of intensity given how drunk she was. “Gwen Harrison.”
Regan waved. “Hi, Gwen.”
Gwen laughed and waved back. “Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you Regan.”
“A pleasure? Really?” Dana asked archly, shaking her head.
Gwen smiled and shrugged as the elevator doors slid shut again. “Well, it’s certainly been amusing so far.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Dana muttered.
“What are you doing tomorrow, Gwen Harrison?” Regan asked. “Do you want to come to a wedding? Ryan, here”—she tried to smack Dana in the chest again, but Dana caught her hand before it could connect—“still needs a date”
“Still amused?” Dana asked with a wry smile that held an edge of embarrassment that Gwen figured was because she had just been outed to a perfect stranger.
Gwen laughed and tipped her head to the side as if to say, Yeah, kind of, even as she told Regan, “I’m afraid I’m already attending a wedding tomorrow evening. But thank you for the invitation.”
“Oh,” Regan said, nodding glumly. “Right. Sorry, D.” She leaned her head against Dana’s shoulder. “I tried.”
“I’ll be okay, Regan,” Dana chuckled.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen murmured, locking eyes with Dana.
Dana shook her head, her forehead creasing with confusion. “Why? There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”
“Still…” Gwen shrugged. Regan looked so disappointed that she couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty about refusing her invitation.
“Who’s getting married tomorrow?” Regan piped up as the elevator stopped at the third floor.
“You are,” Gwen said as she pushed the close door button. She must have timed it just right, because the doors immediately began to shut.
Regan rolled her eyes and waved her off. “I know that. I’m not that drunk.”
“Bullshit,” Dana muttered.
Gwen grinned.
Regan blew a long, loud raspberry. “Shut up. Anyway”—she directed her attention back to Gwen—“I meant whose wedding are you going to tomorrow?” Her eyes went comically wide. “Oh my god, it’s not yours, is it?”
“No, it’s not mine,” Gwen assured her. “I honestly don’t know the couple. I’ve just been hired to play the ceremony and reception.”
“Is that your instrument?” Regan asked, pointing at the neck of the satin-finished hard case that was sticking up behind Gwen’s head.
“That's my cello,” Gwen confirmed. She shrugged and added, “Or, one of them, anyway.”
“I played the violin in fourth grade,” Regan shared as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor.
Gwen nodded. She had begun playing the cello at age three, and by the time she was in fourth grade she had already performed alongside the American Symphony Orchestra on a half-dozen different occasions. “Did you?”
“Yeah.” Regan nodded. “I sucked so bad at it that my parents paid me fifty bucks to quit.”
Gwen arched a brow in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Yep.” Regan grinned. “Easiest fifty bucks I ever made. Dana plays the guitar, though.”
“Really?” Gwen turned to Dana.
“Poorly, but yes,” Dana said, the faintest blush creeping over her cheeks. “It was just something I picked up to keep myself busy between practices back in the day.”
“Practices?” Gwen asked.
“I was a swimmer,” Dana elaborated, giving Regan a pointed look.
Gwen frowned at the way Dana’s brow and lips pinched in an expression that was just a hair gentler than a glare, and it was clear that she was silently warning Regan to not share anything else. Gwen cleared her throat and tried to change the subject, hoping the shift in conversation would lighten the mood. “So, you’re the best man, huh?”
“I am.” Dana as she looked back at Gwen. She flashed a small, lopsided smile. “I don’t do dresses, so Regan thought she would be cute by naming me her best man instead.”
“She looks great in a tux,” Regan shared, waggling her eyebrows at Dana.
Gwen looked at Dana, whose torso was a perfect V of peak physical fitness, and nodded. “I bet she does.”
Dana blushed, and Gwen felt her own cheeks catch fire as she looked away.
“Ha! I knew you were a big ol’ homo!” Regan shouted victoriously as the elevator stopped at the sixth floor, revealing a middle-aged couple in matching garish Hawaiian shirts.
Gwen blushed harder as the couple stared at them with identical expressions of shocked amusement.
“Hi!” Regan greeted the couple with a wide smile and a jaunty wave. “Going up?”
The man shook his head. “No. Down.”
“God. Lucky,” Regan groaned. She head-butted Dana’s shoulder hard enough to make Dana wince. “Why do I have to stay away from Brooke tonight? I want to go down on her so bad right now…”
The woman in the hall snorted with laughter as her husband gaped at them.
“Christ, Waterman,” Dana chuckled, and Gwen’s face felt like it was on fire as she punched the door close button to try to get them away from the couple. “Just shut up.” She smiled apologetically at
the couple. “I’m so sorry. Really.”
“I’ll have you know I’m very good at it,” Regan insisted, looking pointedly at the unfortunate souls in the hall.
“Yes, I know,” Dana assured her in a low tone as the elevator doors began to close, separating them from the poor couple who looked relieved to see them going.
Gwen gave her a quizzical look.
“Not from personal experience, or anything,” Dana explained, a small shudder rippling through her at the thought. “We were roommates in college. It didn’t take me long to start wearing earplugs when I went to bed, but sometimes even that didn’t help.”
“I’m good,” Regan repeated smugly.
Gwen laughed. “I’m sure your soon-to-be-wife appreciates it.”
“Oh, she does.” Regan yawned, her eyes fluttering as she leaned into Dana’s side. “Are we almost at your room?”
“Yep. We’re getting closer,” Dana confirmed as she glanced at the lit numbers in the small square above the control panel.
“Good,” Regan mumbled.
Gwen watched the way Dana cradled Regan against her side, tenderly brushing her hair away from her face as they cleared the next two floors in silence.
As the doors closed on the ninth floor, Dana gave Gwen a small smile and whispered, “Thank you for just rolling with all of this. I know she can be a lot to handle when she’s this hammered.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Gwen returned Dana’s smile with a kind one of her own and shrugged. “She was fine, really. My friend Luke is the same way. Honestly, if he had flown out with me for this gig like he was originally supposed to, he would have egged her on and the two of them would have been impossible to control.”
“Oh, god.”
Gwen chuckled. “Exactly. But it would have been damned entertaining.”
“I can only imagine,” Dana laughed as the elevator stopped at the tenth floor. She sighed and gave Regan’s side a light squeeze. “Come on, Bridezilla. You need to get your beauty sleep if you’re going to get married tomorrow. Brooke will kick my ass if you don’t look picture-perfect for your big day.”
