Page 78 of Perfect Pitch

“Austyn, I didn’t do anything,” she protests.

“Yes, Mama, you did. You’ve done everything to give me the world.”

Her breath hitches, like she wants to say something but can’t. Won’t. Since this likely will result in her apologizing in my long-lost father—again—I spin her around and come face-to-face with a man I never expected to see so close to me tonight. My heart pounds in the irregular pattern I can only attribute to him. Nothing else stirs me in quite the same way. Nothing, not even my music. Not even the euphoria of hitting a note with perfect pitch causes me to tremble wildly. Nothing but him.

Fortunately, before I can give too much thought to Mitch not ten feet from me, Marco Houde closes in. Wildly, I liken him to Oz. Only instead of emerald, he’s the man behind the burgundy curtain. Hysterical laughter wants to bubble up, but Marco forestalls that by stepping forward, blocking Mitch from my line of sight. “Kensington, there are some people who are interested in meeting you.”

“Oh?”

“A particular music producer and a special VIP.”

Mama stiffens in my arms. Concerned by her reaction, I make a mental note to ask her about it later. “I hate to be rude, but I do need a few moments of privacy.” My eyes dart to the darkened area of the club where the less than seductive restrooms hide.

A flicker of amusement dances across Marco’s expression. He acquiesces, “Of course. Shall we say my office in ten minutes?”

“That’s fine.” He saunters straight past Mitch and to whomever waits beyond the darkness of the strategically placed spotlight. I immediately ask my mother, “What is it?”

She opens her mouth and then shakes her head. “It’s for another time, darling. Tonight’s your night to shine.”

“Mama, is everything okay?”

“Fine. Are your readings coming through?”

“Perfectly. Feel like taking another spin on the dance floor? The views were excellent from up there.”

“Austyn, no, I do not! That was completely unexpected in the first place,” she huffs.

I grin unrepentantly. “From my vantage point, it looked exciting. If you need incentive, I’ll sing again for you. Live this time.”

“Why did I agree to this?” she moans.

“Because you love me?” I tease.

Her face transforms into a fixture of elegant beauty. “I do, Austyn. I love you beyond anything and anyone in this world.”

The fierceness with which she speaks robs me of words. Instead, I just pull her close and wrap her in my arms again.

I’m not sure how long we stand like that before she reluctantly pulls back. “Go do what you have to. You have a meeting and I can’t cover for you up there.” She points upward to indicate the sound booth.

“I’m certain you could figure it out.” Still, I press a kiss to her cheek and make my way into the shroud of darkness toward the women’s restroom just past the glittering lights reflecting off the disco ball.

Having finished my business, I fling the restroom door open. Just then, a hand grips my arm and rips me to the side. Fear is quickly replaced by excitement when I inhale his scent. My back is pressed gently against a wall before Mitch lifts my chin so I’m staring into the face of the devil that haunts all my dreams.

Well, not quite like my dreams. Where he’s as naked as he was on our FaceTime call. Tonight, he’s wearing an open dress shirt that sets off his remarkable green eyes and a suit I know is custom-made to hide the weapon I’m certain is on his trim physique.

Close up, as I feel the length of Mitch’s body pressed against mine. Beneath the veneer of civility Mitch clothes himself in beats the heart of a warrior—a man I can easily see stepping in front of a bullet to save someone else’s life. His eyes glitter as he stares down at me. He has my arms pinned against the wall so I’m completely immobile but without an ounce of pain. It’s a good thing because my hands fist at my side with the burning desire to soothe or slap him—I’m not certain which. I can’t keep the note of breathlessness from my voice. I rasp, “Mitch.”

He murmurs, “How did you dig under my skin?”

A swift kick to my solar plexus might have shocked me less than hearing that from this man. I struggle to break free of his hold. “Let me go, Mitch.”

Instead of doing what I ask, he presses his weight against mine.

I want to moan with pleasure at the heat burrowing into my body from his. I try to press further against the wall to avoid the warmth of his length against me, knowing I’m about to become a quivering mess. I turn my head and pant, “I want to touch you.”

His lips touch the rim of my ear when he speaks directly into it. “Until tonight, until I felt the heart of you pulsating through my veins, I thought I could protect myself from what you made me feel. That first morning, it was like God was playing a practical joke on me by having you move in with Trev.”

Bewildered, I jerk back, “What do you mean?”

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