Page 18 of Prelude To You

Even so, the audacity to presume a strange woman felt the same sexual attraction I did, was just not me. Now I cringed at the fact that I could push things that far just thinking of myself, instead of getting a grip and realizing I’d started something that couldn’t possibly go anywhere. Even if she was a willing participant.

I’ve never needed validation in my life, but suddenly I found myself wanting to explain my actions to someone I didn’t even know. If that wasn’t looking for validation, then what was?

Still, if I asked myself what I’d do differently if given a second chance, I knew the answer was probably nothing. There was no way to explain the spellbinding effect she had on me. What was even more bothersome was leaving her with the terrible impression she must have of me now.

I toyed with the idea of finding her. It would be easy to do, but also dangerous. Because I knew that I didn’t just want to find her to apologize. I wanted to kiss every inch of her skin, and explore every secret place her clothes concealed. And that was just for starters.

But given my situation, I was in no position to consider any of that. My life was complex, and adding more complexity could only be detrimental to everyone involved, and even a few who weren’t.

I’d simply have to put The Dancer out of my mind. With that decision made, I expected to feel some relief. But I didn’t. I poured another whiskey, sat down at my desk, and settled in for an all-nighter.

Work was the comfort I could always rely on to pacify my soul. Tonight, that would be essential.

6

ISABEL

My first thought when I woke up was of Stranger. Ugh. At least I had the job interview to occupy my mind, and that was somewhat of a relief. To show my commitment to my new employer, I got up at daybreak and made a dozen macarons in all the colors of the rainbow. Call it a bribe, call it what you will, but I wanted this job—if I got it—to last longer than a day or two.

After a quick shower, I stood in front of my closet, unsure what one was supposed to wear when reading to a sick old man. My usual black leggings, white shirt and leather ballet flats were a good bet. Not fancy but comfy, plus I doubted the old guy would pay a whole of attention to the person reading to him.

Meg was making coffee when I entered the kitchen. She looked me up and down and frowned. “Could you please NOT wear that ugly coat? It does you absolutely zero favors.”

I took off my coat, only to be met with another frown. “I take it back. Put the coat back on. It should be against the law to have a body like yours. And I don’t know if leggings are the way to go here. Do you not possess a dress or something?”

“You are the one person who knows exactly what I have in my closet,” I countered. “Apparently the guy is old and sick. I don’t think it matters what I wear.”

“Don’t forget rich,” Meg reminded me. “Massively rich.”

“Oh my God,” I said. “This is me ignoring you. Seriously. What’s wrong with you?”

“Okay, Florence Nightingale.”

“The whole thing is making me nervous,” I said. “I mean if the other readers didn’t last more than a day or two…”

“Relax, Isabel. I don’t see anyone going nuclear on your ass, for any reason. But I’d suggest you don’t rub cream pastries in their face.”

“You and Marguerite both,” I said, somewhat annoyed. “So you support the grin-and-bear-it policy too?”

“No, he touches you without your consent, you drive a stake through his skull. But he’s old, sick and rich, so maybe be more forgiving this time around?”

I shook my head, exasperated. “I’m just curious how anyone could get fired for reading to someone.”

“You do seem better than last night. I’m glad you’re over the fabulous douchebag at the bookshop.”

“He’s not a douchebag, and I’m not exactlyoverhim. I just choose to evict him from my mind.”

“And how’s that going?” Meg asked.

“It was going fine until now, thank you very much.” I poured some coffee in our mugs. “It would help if you didn’t remind me every minute of the day.”

“Well, out of sight out of mind, that’s my motto.”

“So maybe stop talking about him then?”

Meg zipped her lips with a grand gesture. “Not another word about him, not a single one, I promise. Just one quick question.”

I rolled my eyes. “Here we go. What?”

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