Page 8 of Serving the Maestro

Honestly, the whole idea made me tired.

“Hi.”

A polite brush-off already forming on my tongue, I glanced over, then put my phone face down.

The second I saw her, I forgot all about the brush-off, the phone, the search, and the asshole who’d left his coat and scarf behind.

She had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.

Rich and deep, a shade caught between blue and purple, almost like the twilight sky as it yielded to the night.

Her mouth was unpainted but wide and lush, soft lips I already wanted to feel against mine.

Those lips parted on a soft intake of breath, and there was a faintly stunned look in her eyes, almost like she felt the same erotic, instant attraction.

I blinked away the erotic image of stealing a kiss and made myself respond to her greeting. “Hello.”

She gripped the back of the chair next to me, her hands buried in the soft material of the asshole’s scarf. Still smiling at me, she said, “Lame conversation starter, but this weather sucks, doesn’t it? Especially for April.”

The weather wasn’t my favorite topic, but if it made her linger, I wouldn’t argue.

“I’m used to warmer weather. I’m from California.” Absently, I looked out the windows and saw the same steady snowfall. Damn glad the subway system wasn’t affected by snow. “I’m not much for cold weather, so yeah, I’m not loving the April snowstorm.”

Turning my back on the windows, I focused on the woman. She was a much more appealing subject. Those eyes alone were stunning.

“What’s California like?” she asked, her body angled toward me.

“Warm. In some places, it’s beautiful. Watching the sun go down over the Pacific...?” Thinking about the home I’d left under Stephen’s watchful eye and the balcony where I’d enjoyed a hundred sunsets had me wishing I was back there instead of here, in New York City, where people bundled up like it was the North Pole. “There’s nothing else like it.”

“I guess it’s pretty different here.”

“Yeah.” Maybe different was what I needed. Back in California, I’d been losing interest in just about everything—even my club, the balcony where I’d watched sunsets and written a dozen songs. I’d been all but drowning in the apathy.

Now, talking to this woman, interest stirred something inside I hadn’t felt in a while.

“But I’m definitely finding plenty here that appeals to me.”

Awareness bloomed in her eyes, and her cheeks flushed a soft pink. She swayed a little closer, only a few inches away now. “New York has its perks.”

I offered her a drink and debated asking her to sit in the seat still empty next to me. The asshole had been gone for a good ten minutes. He probably wasn’t coming back for his coat. But there was still something skittish about the pretty brunette. I didn’t want to rush her.

The soft flush on her cheeks intensified as our gazes connected. The pulse in her neck fluttered, and her eyes darkened. Yeah, she might be skittish, but she was definitely turned on.

I sure as hell was. The idea of a sex sabbatical no longer interested me a bit.

“You know, I don’t think we—”

“Hello. Excuse me, but that’s my chair.”

She straightened and turned.

Recognizing the man as the asshole who’d left his scarf and coat behind, I sighed.

“Oh.” The woman gave me a quick, embarrassed look as she stepped back, letting the asshole claim his belongings. He didn’t spare me a look.

I wasn’t concerned about that.

But now, the cute brunette with gorgeous eyes looked uncomfortable.

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