Page 89 of Serving the Maestro

A laugh snorted out of me, loud and unladylike. “You’re nuts.”

He came to me and cupped my face in his hands. “Yeah. About you. Are you going to be okay here by yourself all day?”

“Hmm.” Resting my hands on his shoulders, I pretended to ponder the question. “Well, there’s no Central Park, and the pizza here sucks, but other than that, I think I can somehow carry on.”

“Bite your tongue,” he said mildly. “We’ve got some great pizza places. And so-what if we don’t have Central Park? We’ve got the Pacific Ocean.”

The blue-green expanse stretched out endlessly outside the windows along the western wall of his kitchen, and I looked over to consider the view, lips pursed. “Okay, a couple points for that.”

“A couple.” He dipped his head and nipped my lower lip.

Heat flared inside, my body primed to respond to his. We’d spent the past couple of days wrapped around each other, and I was tender between my thighs, the muscles in my back, legs, and hips stretched and achy, but in the best way.

It shouldn’t be possible for me to need him again so soon. I did.

But when I tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back. “Can’t...I’ll get distracted, and we’ll be naked in five minutes.”

“Probably.” Sighing, I pulled away and settled more comfortably on my stool. “Go on. Create beautiful music.”

He winked. “I’ll try to fit in a sonnet or two.”

Once he was gone, I picked up a piece of toast from my plate but instead of taking a bite, I grimaced and tossed it back down.

I’d been hungry when I woke up, but most of the big breakfast Trent and I had cooked either ended up on his plate or sat untouched on mine. Even the sight of the bacon made me feel a little nauseous. Getting queasier by the second, I nudged the plate away and got up from the island. Once I’d cleared the dishes, my stomach settled, although the coffee I’d tried to drink didn’t settle well at all.

Neither did water, milk, or the soft drinks Trent kept on hand.

I’d already planned on running down to the small local grocery store Trent had told me about, so I made a list on my phone and added tea and ginger ale, hoping whatever was making my stomach act up was just a case of stress and nerves.

After a quick shower, I changed into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, then settled at the desk in Trent’s home office, my laptop open and a notebook in front of me.

Putting in a call to Cam, I booted up my laptop while waiting for her to answer.

“Hello, sunshine,” she said, grinning at me while I adjusted the phone so I could see the screen better.

“Hey. How is everything going?”

“We haven’t fallen apart here,” she said airily, one hand waving loftily.

“Good to know.” I rolled my eyes and pulled up my calendar on my laptop. It was synched to my phone, and I eyed several deadlines for ongoing projects. Another note—this one more personal—caught my eye and I frowned, then tucked it away until I had time to deal with it. “Where are we on the new game?”

Cam caught me up to date as I made a few notes and opened a file on my laptop to check a coding issue.

“Are you ready for the call with Unitel?” she asked, naming a local phone carrier along the east coast. They’d been asking about adding a couple of our games to the packages they offer customers, and after several back-and-forth conversations, I think we were ready to play hardball.

“Damn straight.” I smiled and reached for a water bottle while she started the call.

Three hours later, I was starving, thirsty, and ready for a break.

Marking the day’s necessary phone calls off my list, I went back to the calendar, that one item still nagging at the back of my mind.

It was a small red dot.

“A month,” I muttered.

I’d been having issues with irregular periods off and on for years and had developed a way to keep track of them using the calendar app.

Flipping back to the past month, I eyed the two small red dots with a frown.

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