Page 57 of Hope & Harmony

Catch My Heart

CHAPTER 1

GUNNAR

If only Blaire Cavileri weren’t so damnedhot.

I never asked for open mic night at the Haven to become a personal competition between the two of us, but that’s what it seems to be since she showed up a few weeks ago.

I used to be the headliner here—Gunnar Healy, rock vocalist and guitarist extraordinaire, waiting for an agent or producer to walk through the door of Jamie Tyler’s enterprise and give me my big break.

I wouldn’t be the first. Performing at the Haven has led to stardom for some amazing acts.

Sarah Leventhal is in the audience today, and she’s shown interest in me time and again, but something always keeps her from signing me.

That something today?

Blaire Cavileri.

She stands onstage singing some aria written a century ago by Mozart or Verdi or some other classical composer.

Classical isn’t the norm here at the Haven, but Blaire’s voice is like a dream—as rich as the dark-red velvet of her gown. The aria she’s singing has lush and seductive lines. It started with a haunting, almost ethereal melody and has slowly increased inintensity. Her voice gradually inches higher, but it never sounds shrieky. Instead it’s full and sumptuous. I feel like I’m taking in a musical buffet, knife and fork at the ready.

As she sings in Italian or French or whatever—does it even matter?—I, like the rest of the spectators sitting at the wooden tables drinking their cocktails, am mesmerized. Sarah’s no exception. Despite having no interest in classical artists, she is as captivated as I am. As is Jamie, watching from the wing.

And I don’twantto be captivated.

Because the woman gets on my last nerve.

“What were you thinking?” I asked Jamie two weeks ago when Blaire first showed up. “An opera singer?”

“Wait until you hear her,” he said to me. “And if that doesn’t convince you, wait until youseeher. I happened to hear her at a concert last month, and I begged her to come sing here.”

I’d never seen Jamie so taken with an act, but he was on target about Blaire. Her dramatic mezzo-soprano has an earthy quality that sends shivers over my flesh. Besides, she’s gorgeous. Her sable hair is swept up over her shoulders with only a few strands framing her oval face. Her eyes are a warm amber-brown, and her full lips are painted nearly as dark red as her gown. I’m watching a vocal miracle unfold in front of me, and all I can think about is…

Well…things I shouldn’t be thinking about, since I’m up next. My guitar will cover any boner, but it won’t be comfortable.

Every Thursday night is the same—at least it has been for the last couple weeks. The Haven used to bemyplace. Sure, it’s open mic night, butIwas the highlight. People couldn’t wait for me to go onstage. I had fans, even a few groupies.

I still have my following, but once Blaire Cavileri took the stage, she made it her own.

I look out into the audience, and?—

Wow.

Sarah is hypnotized. I’ve never seen her so spellbound by a performer. Her gaze is fixed without interruption on Blaire. Never have I gotten this kind of attention from her.

Perfect. Just what I need.

Also in the audience is an older gentleman who I haven’t seen here before. He’s graying at his temples and wearing a tweed jacket. Tweed. Seriously. In a bar.

Yeah, whatever.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off Blaire since she started performing.

Nothing new there. No one has.

I try to. I dart my gaze around the spectators, but I can’t help myself. A couple seconds later I’m focused on Blaire again.

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