Copyright © 2013 Carmen Willow
All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Cover image by: © iStockphoto
Cover design by: Shannon Brogan
To my sister Kim, my keenest critic and strongest supporter, and to
Jennifer who helped me lose the commas.
.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Afterword
Prologue
Eamon Byrne stood at the bar of an expensive night club that sat high atop a five star hotel. The techno dance music was pounding, and the floor was filled with people trying to have a good time. Eamon yawned. He had seen it all before.
He and his crew were unwinding after the last day of a video gaming convention. For a moment, he could not remember what city they were in or which convention it was. These events were a necessary part of the video game industry. Much of their promotion, marketing, and advertising took place at the Com-cons, Video-cons, and Game-Cons all around the world. Eamon didn’t mind; it was part of the deal. The work, the travel, and the chaos all helped him make money, money that paid for his freedom. He couldn’t have enough of either.
The guys were seated on a low couch with some babes, dressed in high heels, short dresses or skinny jeans and tight tops. Eamon could join the game groupies on the couch and end up with one of them in his hotel room tonight. They were women who would provide sex without strings, women he could enjoy and then forget. He considered sitting down and checking them out, but instead he told the bartender to send another round over to his crew and close his tab.
“Hey boss, sit down,” Jake said and indicated one of the girls beside him giving Eamon an inquiring look.
“Nah, it looks like fun, but I think I’ll head to my room. I’m tired.” Eamon looked to the rest of his people. “Hey guys, be sure you make your planes tomorrow.”
“Right!”
Minutes later, Eamon was back in his suite taking a shower. Once he pulled on his boxer briefs, he walked over to windows overlooking a fabulous view of whatever the hell city he was in. He was barely thirty and already a multi-millionaire. He had all the toys: the car, the high rise condo, expensive clothes and beautiful women. He was free to go where he wanted, when he wanted, and do what he wanted, so why did it suddenly seem so pointless? Eamon rubbed the back of his neck, yawned and set the alarm to ensure that he would leave on time. Then he fell fast asleep.
Chapter 1
Sarah locked her computer and headed for the door. If she could get out of the office immediately, she would just have time to get something to eat before the dress rehearsal for the Little Blue Community Choir’s next concert. Grabbing her stuff, she made her way toward the elevators.
“Sarah? Sarah? Did you finish those employment contracts?” A voice called from one of the larger offices.
“Yeah, Jim, they’re done! Look in your email and you’ll find them. See you tomorrow.” Sarah called out as she went from a brisk walk to a run, managing to catch the elevator before Jim could get the email open and call her back for just one more revision.
Sarah rushed across the street to the little bistro on the corner. The food was good, reasonably priced, and today her favorite table in the little step up area that overlooked the main dining space was free. When the waiter appeared she ordered soup, a half sandwich and a glass of ice tea. While waiting, Sarah opened up her music score and began to study it, tapping out the time on the table softly as she mentally sang the alto part in her head.
“Excuse me, Sarah? Sarah Adams?”
Sarah looked up to find two men standing below her in the main dining well of the restaurant. They came up the short flight of stairs to her level. “Sarah, I don’t know if you remember me? I’m Martin Ellesworth with Gryphon?”
Sarah smiled. Martin Ellesworth was an attorney who represented one of the largest video game conglomerates in the country, Gryphon World, Inc. In recent weeks, she and her boss had come in contact with him. They represented Rainwhite Games, another video game company in Kansas City. Sarah remembered Martin as a courteous attorney who was also very good at his job.
“Oh yes, Mr. Ellesworth. The recent negotiations. I remember.” Sarah put out her hand and shook Martin’s firmly.
“May I introduce my friend?”
Sarah looked up at the man who stood beside Mr. Ellesworth. Both men were attractive, but this man was singularly so. Tall, fit, with black hair, Celtic blue eyes, his features included a square chin with an attractive five o’clock shadow. The man looked familiar but she couldn’t place him. Sarah extended her hand and shook firmly, as she had trained herself to do. “How do you do, Mr.—“
“Eamon Byrne, but just call me Eamon.”
Sarah made the connection. Eamon Byrne was the principal stockholder of Gryphon World, Inc. Why does he want to meet me? She wondered.
As if he’d read her mind, he pointed to the music in her other hand. “I saw you studying that Howells score and wondered if you were going to be performing it soon.”
So, he was interested in the music. Sarah relaxed. “This Sunday. The Little Blue Community Choir is singing Evensong at Grace and Holy Trinity at 6:00 p.m. We’re doing Howells; we will debut an original anthem as well.”
“That sounds promising. I’ll look for you there.”
“So you sing, Mr. Byrne? Or are you simply a music aficionado?”
“Men’s Chorus, Missouri Western. Baritone.”
“Go Griffons!” Sarah responded gaily.
“Are you an alum?”
“No. I like griffons.” Sarah replied with a smile. Her food came.
“Why don’t you join us?” Eamon indicated his table.
“I would, but I must eat and run. We have dress rehearsal in forty minutes.”
“And Martin and I are keeping you from it. Next time, then. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you.”
The two men went back to their table. Sarah ate her meal quickly, trying not to stare at them. Once when she snuck a look, her eyes met Mr. Byrne’s. Sarah blushed in embarrassment at being caught. She put some money down on her bill and left, hurrying across the street to the parking garage to retrieve her car.
The Woman Who Read Widely
Eamon watched Sarah leave the restaurant with genuine regret. He’d seen her there before during lunch sitting at the tables up on the rise. She often had music or some esoteric book propped up in front of her as she ate. A woman who read, Zen Physics one week and Game of Thrones the next caught his attention. He’d begun to look for her when he came in to eat just to see what the book du jour was.
He’d agreed to meet Martin for dinner so they could plan the initial moves of a hostile takeover they’d been working on for months. Purchases of the target
company’s stock had been made in small amounts so that suspicions would not be raised. It was a touchy business, but so far, it was working. The annual stockholder’s meeting was to be held soon, proxy votes were being quietly acquired.
Eamon arrived at the restaurant first and secured a table. He searched the upper area. She was there. Cute in a girl-next-door sort of way, he liked her curvy figure. The woman’s long caramel hair was French braided into a single tail down her back and her dress was a classic cut that could have been bought yesterday or ten years ago. She didn’t fit the current fashion trends at all.
Tonight she held music in her hands. He watched, amused, as she balanced the score against her tote bag on the table and began to tap out the beat. He couldn’t read the title. What was she going to sing?
About that time, Martin showed up; and, as he took his seat, Eamon nodded toward the woman. “Any chance you know her, Martin?”
Martin looked in the direction Eamon was gazing. “Actually, I think I do. That’s Sarah Adams, Jim Saunders’ legal assistant. Nice girl, competent, she usually sits in on his trials.”
“Introduce me.”
“Ah, Eamon…I don’t think…well she’s a quiet sort.”
“I just want to meet her, Martin. She’s working on some sort of music up there. I’m curious.”
“Oh, all right.”
Martin introduced them. Eamon noted that she had true hazel eyes, a light brown with dashes of green in them. Her eyes were one of her best features, that and her incredible figure.
After speaking with Sarah about the choir and the Evensong, Eamon was even more determined to get to know her. It had been a long time since he’d listened to a good choral performance. He would definitely attend the Evensong on Sunday.
Martin watched Eamon as he studied the woman. “You know, her boss, Jim Saunders, just became full-time counsel for Rainwhite Games. We are planning to take her company apart in the next few months. Won’t that be a little awkward?”
Eamon turned his attention back to Martin. “Why would it? I’m not going to let her get in the way of our plans. But she’s definitely got a nice rack and did you see those legs? Damn!” Before Martin could say anything else, Eamon said, “Why don’t we get to it? Where do we stand on the proxies?” The two men turned to the business at hand.
Evensong
The day of the concert, Sarah entered the Narthex of Grace and Holy Trinity early. She took a few moments to glance around the Nave and the Altar. Grace and Holy Trinity was considered transitional Norman in its architecture, all lovely gray stone, dark brown wood, and stained glass, with high ceilings. Singing resonated through the building and bounced off all the hard surfaces. It could be distracting, but it was a great venue in which to sing.
Sarah took a deep breath and went to the room in which the choristers gathered. Jason her choir director was already there. “Sarah. I need another alto for the psalm.” He said. “I know you’re familiar with Anglican chant; mind helping out?”
“I’d love it.” Sarah took the psalm and studied it while the rest of the choir arrived. Jason sent everyone to the loft. They took their places and went through the order of the service. The organist took his place and began the prelude as the worshippers took seats in the Nave.
The service began, and soon The Little Blue Choir sang the first anthem of the evening by Howells, a great British composer. Sarah moved down to the choir rail to sing the psalm with seven other members of the choir. The service continued, and as Sarah had expected, everything went beautifully. Jason beamed his approval and said, “That went well, folks! Now, let’s adjourn and meet at Milano’s to celebrate!”
As everyone started down the narrow stairs to the main floor of the Cathedral, Sarah saw Eamon Byrne waiting at the bottom. Dressed in khakis and blue crewneck sweater he was, if anything, more formidable than he had appeared the other evening. Many of the women’s heads turned to study him as they went past.
Sarah was just delighted that someone she knew had attended. “Hi! You came. How did you like it?”
Eamon leaned against the pew with the program in his hand. “It was different from my RC roots, but beautiful. The Howells was good. The psalm was great. Neat harmony. Was I correct? You were one of the altos.”
Sarah lost a little of her smile. “If you could make out my voice, then I wasn’t blending very well.” She said.
“That isn’t what I meant. Your blend was excellent. It’s just that I haven’t heard Anglican chant before,” Eamon explained, amused.
“Jason asked me to substitute at the last moment. I didn’t have time to rehearse.” She dropped her eyes from his and said, “Well, I—“
Eamon touched her arm lightly. “Listen, I’d really like to take you to dinner. Do you have plans?”
“Yes. The choir is going to Milano’s to eat.” Sarah hesitated, and then she took a chance. “Mr. Byrne, would you like to come? I’m certain Jason wouldn’t mind. He’d be happy to try and wriggle a donation out of you.”
“I’d love to come. Call me Eamon, please.”
Sarah waved her hand toward the women’s dressing room. “I need to change. I have my car, so why don’t I meet you there in a few minutes?”
“Sounds like a plan, Sarah. See you there.” Eamon left.
Sarah changed into her green jersey knit dress and fixed her hair. Satisfied that she didn’t look like a choir girl any longer, Sarah gathered her things and went to her car.
She drove south to Crown Center and parked in the garage. Milano’s was an adjunct of the Crown Center complex which contained restaurants, boutique stores and a 5-star hotel. Sarah entered the restaurant and asked for the table reserved for the choir.
Eamon was already there speaking with Jason. The two men were engaged in a lively discussion. He glanced up to see Sarah approach and immediately rose from his chair to greet her.
“Hi, Sarah. Mr. Fletcher has been telling me about your community choir and its repertoire. You sing everything from jazz to Howells. Sounds like fun.” Eamon pulled out the chair next to him for Sarah. He sat down and faced Jason again. “So you’re going to be singing Beethoven’s Ninth sometime this year? That’s a real challenge. Beethoven was oblivious to the strain that a sustained high A placed on his sopranos.”
“Trust me, the altos don’t fare any better,” Sarah said with a laugh.
“This choir is up to the challenge. You’ll see,” Jason assured Eamon. “Sarah can keep you apprised of the date and location.”
“Sure. I can email the link to our schedule.”
The rest of the choir appeared, and the table filled up quickly. As menus were passed around, Sarah realized that she hadn’t brought enough cash to pay for a meal and discovered after fumbling through her wallet that she didn’t have her credit card either. The waiter came round taking orders. When it was her turn, Sarah ordered the spinach salad and ice tea.
Eamon studied the menu. “Please bring two trays of antipasto now, Chicken Gorgonzola, and a cup of coffee for dinner.” Eamon handed the waiter his menu and turned to Sarah. “So how long have you sung with the Little Blue Choir?”
“About two years now. It was Jason’s first year directing. I was immediately taken by the music choices and his dynamic style. He’s an exacting taskmaster at times, but that doesn’t bother me. I love the results he wrings out of us at performance time. Besides he can be really funny when he chooses to be.” Sarah smiled at the memory of some of their happier rehearsals. “I have a decent little choir voice.”
Jason chimed in. “Don’t let her fool you. Her voice is perfectly fine. What Sarah lacks is confidence. I want her to audition for some solos, and we’re working on it in lessons.”
Sarah blushed. “Yes. Well, I’m....It’s just that the choir is a harsh critic sometimes.”
“You should audition,” Eamon told her. “I auditioned all the time when I sang in college. Occasionally, I even won a solo. It gets easier the more you do it.”
Th
ey were interrupted by the arrival of the food. Eamon had the waiter place a tray of the antipasto at each end of their large table. “Sarah, want some antipasto?”
“Thank you.”
Eamon put a sampling of the antipasto on her salad plate, gave it to her and took some as well. Sarah’s salad came, and when the entrees began to arrive, Eamon leaned near and asked, “Do you like Chicken Gorgonzola?”
“Yes, very much,” Sarah replied. Eamon put a healthy portion of his entrée on his bread plate and set it in front of Sarah.
“Help me eat this, then,” he told her, returning to his own meal.
Sarah realized that he must have guessed her predicament. She appreciated the easy way in which he offered her food. “Thank you, you’re being very kind.”
“Comes with being an older brother,” he told her as he ate.
“I should have realized,” Sarah said, “It’s something my brother would have done.” Sarah took another bite of food and asked, “So, are you from Kansas City originally?”
“Yes.” Eamon put down his fork and turned toward her to give her his full attention. “My father worked the line at the Ford Plant in Claycomo for twenty-five years. He’s retired now. You?”
“Oh no. My family lives in California. I was born in San Diego.”
Eamon leaned a little closer. “Are you a Navy brat?”
“No. My father is a physician at an HMO. Mom was an ER nurse; she’s semi-retired now. My brother has a gastroenterology practice in the north county. David lives in La Jolla, owns a couple of Mercedes, and just about every other toy. Seldom gets the chance to play with them. But he keeps hoping.”
“Ah! You are one of the privileged. I, on the other hand, came from the wrong side of the tracks. Your father would have warned you against me in high school,” Eamon teased.
“My father warned me against most high school boys,” Sarah explained with a seriousness that could have been real or play. “Certainly, the few who braved my front door were met with scowls and warnings about what he could do with a scalpel. By my senior year, Daddy had pretty much scared them all away. Or at least I would like to think that was the cause.” Then Sarah looked at him from the corner of her eye and a tiny smile graced her mouth. Eamon knew that she was teasing him.
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