Page 33 of Love Me Sweet

Andrew had taken her to the Boston Opera House several times when they’d been together. Up to this moment, he’d have sworn she’d enjoyed the evenings. “There wasn’tanythingyou liked about the performances?”

Instead of being offended, he found himself intrigued. Getting this glimpse inside her head was fascinating.

She thought for a moment, took a bite of sandwich then washed it down with a sip of wine.

“I thought the Opera House was incredibly beautiful. I loved the soaring ceiling, the columns with the gold leaf finishes and all the marble.” Her eyes took on a distant glow, as if she was looking back, remembering those evenings with the promise of summer in the air. “The chandeliers were breathtaking and when the place was filled with all those beautiful people, well, all that stuff made sitting through the performances bearable.”

Andrew finished off his sandwich, finding the sound of rain pattering on the roof oddly soothing. Someone, either he or Sylvie, had turned on a light and now, because of the darkening skies outside, the lamp bathed the room in a golden glow.

The area where they sat had turned suddenly small, almost as if their world had shrunk and they were the only ones in this warm little cocoon, where secrets could be freely shared.

“You liked the surroundings, but didn’t like the Opera or the Symphony.” Andrew kept his tone conversational.

She nodded.

“What about the Ballet?” They’d attended a performance of Swan Lake. Again, he thought she’d enjoyed it but now, thinking back, he wasn’t so sure. Each time his gaze had strayed from the stage to her, she’d been glancing around the concert hall.

“Not really.” She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Perhaps if I’d had some exposure to ballet as a child, I’d have a greater appreciation for all the moves, but--”

“Not your thing,” he said.

“Not my thing.” The words came out on a sigh. She took another sip of wine and her gaze shifted to the fire.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” Again, he strove for conversational, truly wanting to understand.

She shifted her attention back to him. “You were so excited to show me your world. I wanted to explore. I told myself to give them a chance. I hoped that opera and ballet and all that stuff would grow on me once it became more familiar.”

“It didn’t.”

“It hadn’t…but that’s not to say it wouldn’t have, given time.” She gave a rueful smile. “I’d planned to do some outside studying so I could appreciate it. Maybe even take a ballet class or two. But between the time we spent together and my baking, there never seemed to be any extra time.”

“Why bother at all?”

Her gaze met his. “You enjoyed it. You were important to me. I wanted the love of these kinds of things to be something we could share.”

The sentiment spoke to a generosity of spirit. It also made him wonder what would have happened if there had been something in her world that she’d liked and he didn’t? Would he have been so generous? It was a sobering thought and one he wasn’t ready to explore.

His lips quirked up. “Anything else you particularly hated?”

“I didn’t ha—”

“I’m teasing.” Andrew reached over and covered her hand with his. “Thank you for being honest.”

“I should have told you at the time.”

“You’re telling me now.”

Without warning she slipped her hand from his and rose to her feet. She didn’t speak, merely strode to the panes of glass now experiencing the full force of the storm’s wrath.

She was slender as a willow and so…alone.

He fought the urge to go to her now, to wrap his arms about her in comfort. The realization stirred something inside him.

Andrew pushed to his feet, quickly moving across the shiny hardwood to where she stood. When he wrapped his arms around her, Sylvie stiffened. After a moment she relaxed against him, her body soft against his.

“I wasn’t going to do this,” he said, his voice a soft, low rumble.

“Do what?” she whispered back, making no move to turn around.

“Come to you, comfort you.” He expelled a breath. “But I’d promised to be genuine during these weeks together and I-I wanted to hold you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. “I believe this forced interaction is going to be harder on us than we think.”

“It may be difficult.” Andrew dropped his head forward so his chin rested on the top of her head. “Still, in the end, when the three weeks is up, we’ll know we made a grand effort.”

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