Playing the Maestro (4 page)

Wolf leaned in, his face inches from hers. “We’ve got a lot of things in the works.” He popped a nacho in his mouth.

“Such as?”

…

Wolf sighed, regretting his choice of neighborhood bars. When he’d first seen Melody sitting next to the only empty seat, he thought maybe he could smooth things over a little and prove he wasn’t the snob she thought he was. But now, his gesture had bitten him in the butt. Now Melody wanted answers he couldn’t give.

She tapped her fingers impatiently, crooking her pretty, arched eyebrow.

Wolf popped another fry to buy time. “I approached a few high-profit donors last week with an offer to sponsor a chair in the orchestra. One of them even chose the flute.”

Melody nodded, her eyes sharp and penetrating. “And the audience attendance?”

Wolf drank his beer and pondered just how much to tell her. “I have a few ideas to boost enthusiasm for classical music, starting with the area’s youth.”

Melody took the last swig of her Heineken, impressing him. She’d drained the whole glass. “And the current personnel?”

Wolf rubbed his temples.
Damn, she’s bold.
“What about them?”

Melody’s face drooped as if she’d swallowed a French fry the wrong way. “Some of those older musicians have played with the orchestra since they were kids. Like Bertha Payne, for instance. I remember going to this orchestra’s concerts as a kid, and there she was, sitting in the back row. Her husband passed away five years ago, and this orchestra is everything she has. The music keeps her going. I don’t know what she’d do if someone told her not to come anymore.”

Wolf was well aware of Bertha Payne. He’d read about her husband’s contribution to the orchestra in old program notes. Bertha reminded him of his late grandmother—she was the last person he wanted to fire.

A current of guilt spread through him. Why not tell Melody everything? How he’d escaped from a bad relationship in Germany to this new opportunity. How he’d longed to make his family of lawyers and businessmen proud of his musical career.

Wolf wished he could give Melody more to go on, but with Blake breathing down his neck, he’d rather play it safe. Besides, he’d been burned once before. “Due to contractual obligations, I’m not at liberty to say. Although the last row of violins is the least of my worries.”

Melody blinked in surprise. Her fingers fumbled and she tipped over her empty glass with her arm. They both dove for it before the glass hit the floor. Melody’s hands closed around it, and Wolf’s hands closed over hers. Her skin felt hot as fire, lighting up his arm with heat.

“Are you okay, Miss Mires?”

Melody froze and looked down in horror as if he’d stolen her hand. “Um, yeah. The bar isn’t level.”

“Of course.” Wolf dropped her hand like the lead violist dropped the beat. Did she really find him that unappealing? If so, nothing short of saving the entire orchestra would earn her trust.

Looking at her pretty face, he decided he just might want to—even if it was only to right her wrong opinion of him. For some strange reason, he couldn’t live with her thinking he wasn’t a good person.

His gaze traveled over her in one last longing look before he quelled his desires. “If you’re done with your interrogation, Miss Mires, I’d like to get back to my work. I have a donor meeting early in the morning.”

“B-but—”

“Nice talking with you.” Wolf slipped two twenties underneath the platter and walked swiftly to the exit.

Chapter Four

Confronting His Fears

The humid night air hit Wolf in a soothing bath of relief even though the evening was twenty degrees warmer and stickier than that air-conditioned bar. Just sitting next to Melody turned him into fire. She was everything that Alda was not: talented, direct, open, kindhearted. When he leaned in close, she didn’t smell of candy apples, sugary and sweet enough to make your teeth rot with no depth underneath. Her hair had the distinct scent of lavender, and her skin of chamomile, healing herbs his mother used to make tea. Melody’s features were softer, smaller, and rounder, with less exaggerated angles. Her voice was softer and sweeter, without the cloying twang of annoyance or sarcasm.

He could see now that she was nothing like Alda.

He was so drawn to Melody, he had to leave before his hand touched hers again or he’d pull her right to him. Blake had been very clear about not dating members of the orchestra. Wolf knew he was flirting with the forbidden, playing with fire. Besides, he needed Blake to know she earned the position based on her playing skills and dedication to the orchestra. If they ever dated, the backlash would taint both their reputations.

His Buick waited for him two streets down, and he jogged to it to release some of his pent-up energy. Talking to Melody was like waking up after months of a haze. Too bad he couldn’t follow his inclinations any further than a conversation at a bar.

He’d wanted to reassure her of the safety of everyone’s positions in the orchestra, but he couldn’t be sure of that himself. Hearing Melody’s concerns gave him even more determination to raise enough money to keep Mr. Wallsworth’s vision of the Civic Symphony alive.

Wolf had to focus on the meeting tomorrow and convincing Central Bank to buy more than one chair. Maybe the other two men had children, nieces, nephews, even second cousins who played instruments. Maybe he could make a three-for-one deal, or have them sponsor an entire section of the orchestra.

The rush of feelings burned off, he reached his Buick. Opening the door, he found his cell phone wedged in the driver’s seat. It must have fallen from his pocket before rehearsal.

He turned the screen over and saw two more missed calls. From Alda. A sickening feeling spread through his gut, and this time it wasn’t the American food.

Why doesn’t she leave me alone?

Wolf felt as though he’d left the burner on back at home, in Germany.
Because you never called her back, remember? Alda’s not one to take a hint.

He should have seen Alda’s growing shallowness from a mile away, or the fact that she didn’t hesitate to claim the bill was on her and slap down a credit card after their first meal together. He should have looked more closely at the name she signed on the receipt. But she’d been so sweet when they first met, and he just kept thinking her antics were a phase.

Sighing, he slid into the driver’s seat and accessed voice mail. He’d been ignoring her for a week, but for some reason, his gut told him he needed to hear this one.

“Hallo, Wolfy. I’m surprised you haven’t called back. My father finalized the trip today, and we’ll be in town before you know it. I see the July Fourth concert advertised on EHCS’s website, and I’d like to know the best seats before I buy tickets. Call me.”

The message ended and Wolf stared out the windshield as a few orchestra members got into their cars across the street. She must have Googled him to find out about the orchestra. Wolf’s parents and friends would never speak to Alda again, never mind tell her where he’d gone.

Was it possible to ban someone from buying tickets? He could imagine the look on Blake’s face if he asked.
I’m supposed to be
selling
seats, not outlawing them.

The truth was, he had to call her back. This fiasco had gone too far, and he needed to stop her before she came looking for him. Wolf stopped with his finger over the missed call. Knowing Alda, he needed to be clear, even a bit mean if he was ever to be rid of her.

Wolf scrolled to Alda’s number and dialed. His heart sped as the call rang over and over again.
That’s right—it’s five in the morning in Berlin.
Alda was not an early riser. Her amused voice came on the line. “Hallo, you’ve reached the famous Alda Schuhmacher. I’m either modeling Karl Lagerfeld’s new collection or at the beach. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.”

“Alda, stop calling me. I moved to America for a fresh start.” Wolf sighed. He had to make himself clear. “Honor my request and stop trying to reach me, even if you’ll be in the States. It would be best for both of us this way.”

He pressed the end button so hard, his finger turned white.
Done.

Wolf turned the ignition and the classical station blared the opening movement of Mozart’s fortieth symphony. He revved the engine and took off into the night, never having felt freer.

Chapter Five

Midnight Scare

The new conductor waved his arms, but the pulse slowed like a music box winding down. The orchestra was a dying beast with an erratic heartbeat, waiting to be put out of its misery. “Allegro! Molto Allegro! Don’t drag the tempo.”

Melody bobbed her head to follow the beat, but her fingers slipped up, and the notes came out as a blur. She couldn’t take in enough breath to project her sound, and the sea of violins covered her flute, every one of them Blake. Their overly moussed hair reflected the stage lights like an army of beetles.

“More flute! Forte!” Wolf stared her down with fury burning in his icy gaze. Instead of his usual polo, he wore an eighteenth-century waistcoat with a lacy white undershirt, which somehow reminded her of the Jane Austen movies she’d watched, making him that much sexier. Mmmmm. Mr. Darcy with lighter hair and more muscles…

“Where’s flute one?”

Blinking out of her trance, Melody adjusted her head joint, turning the tone hole toward her to catch more air. The ten measure rest had magically turned into a two measure rest, giving her just enough time to take a double breath and come back in at her next entrance. She tightened her lips and blew.

Nothing. Just air. Melody stared at her flute as if the instrument was broken. She even turned the end over to see if someone had stuffed cloth down the tube, but the silver shone marvelously shiny.

Wolf stepped off the podium and walked toward her as the music continued. Without looking around him, he managed to avoid every violin bow as all the Blakes dug into their up-bows. Melody brought her flute down as he approached.

“This isn’t working.” He shook his head, his long, wavy hair falling around his shoulders. “You’re going to have to kiss me.”

“Kiss you?” Melody glanced at Carly, but she kept playing as though she hadn’t heard him. Or maybe she just didn’t want to lose her job.

He placed both hands on her music stand, big calloused knuckles that could have been involved in construction, not holding a baton. “Yes, it’s the only way.”

The whole orchestra turned into a blur until it was only her and him, and he was waiting. She stared at his jutting chin and those lips—full and arched with just a sprinkling of stubble. She stood, wondering why the hell she was listening to him.

Because I don’t have a good reason not to.

She placed her hands over his, pushing down the music stand separating them. This was it. She was going to kiss him, and it seemed like the most logical, reasonable thing to do.

The music morphed from
Don Juan
to Beethoven’s fifth. The foreboding da da da dum rang in her head and rumbled in her gut. She covered her ears.

Wait a second,
she thought
. This song isn’t on the program.

Melody snapped awake, tangled in her sweaty sheets. Her apartment was pitch-black except for a faint glow emanating from her cell as it sang Beethoven’s fifth and vibrated in circles on her bed stand. She pressed the button on her alarm clock. Four thirty-two.

Who the hell is calling in the middle of the night?

And what the hell was that dream all about?

She picked up the cell and checked the caller ID. Laini. Her heart jumped, waking her from the foggy aftermath of her crazy conductor fantasy. Her sister would never call her like this if it wasn’t an emergency. She put the phone to her ear and hit talk.

Her voice came out, hoarse as a frog. “You okay?”

“Melody! Thank God you answered.” Laini’s voice shook, making anxiety creep up Melody’s spine.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re at Boston Children’s Hospital. Violet’s had another attack.”

Melody thought of her cute niece standing above a lopsided sand castle, struggling for breath. Her stomach clenched. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine for now. The nurses have her on an oxygen mask and she’s asleep. The doctors are running tests to see what’s wrong.”

“Oh, Laini, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad we got her here in time. Derek found her lying on the floor in front of our bedroom and for a second I thought…” Laini hiccupped and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to wake you. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Of course I do.” Melody would have killed her if she hadn’t called. They’d been there for each other all their lives, and just because Laini was married didn’t mean she couldn’t rely on her little sis for support.

“Is Derek there?”

“Yeah, he’s sitting by her bed, holding her hand.”

Good. At least she isn’t alone.
Melody tore the sheets away and stood, looking for something to wear. “I’ll be there right away.”

“No need to rush. Visiting hours don’t start until the morning.”

Melody collapsed back on her bed, dirty jeans in hand. She wanted to do something right now for her sister, but if they wouldn’t let her in… “Hang in there, then, and I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

“No problem.”

Laini hung up, leaving Melody in the dark with the jeans she’d worn to the bar the other night across her legs. The whole thing with Violet made her own problems seem silly, and her dream seriously ridiculous. Thank goodness she had her family to ground her in reality.

Her sister was right; she wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She loved that little girl as if she were her own. Melody hugged her pillow, turned on the TV, and watched elephants on the National Geographic channel for the next three hours. All she could think of was getting to the hospital and bringing her niece a gigantic, furry stuffed turtle.

Melody sat in her Fiat, looking down at her pajamas and having second thoughts about running out of the apartment so quickly.
Well, it’s not like anyone important is going to be at the toy store on a weekday morning.
She watched the store manager of Toys-R-Us fumble with his keys for at least a minute before the doors opened.

Normally, she’d just check in the hospital store downstairs for a balloon, but this time she wanted to bring Violet something she’d remember. She was going to be the Best. Aunt. Ever.

Another car parked across the lot, and a mother with two toddlers got out. Melody decided she’d waited long enough and followed the family into Toys-R-Us.

She hadn’t been there in ages. Never having enough time to shop, Melody bought all her gifts on Amazon, and they came neatly packaged and prewrapped in the mail. This whole walk-around-and-browse tactic was alien to her. What Toys-R-Us needed was a gigantic search engine where you could type in “big stuffed turtle” and the answer came up like magic: Aisle 4.

She turned the corner and there they were, massive stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes. Their arms and legs poked through a white caged bin from the ceiling to the floor. She stepped forward and dug around until she saw the curve of a spotted shell. She yanked the shell out and a few teddy bears tumbled to her feet. The turtle had big, pretty eyes painted with blue eye shadow, a bow on its head, and a heart embroidered on the bottom of its shell.

Perfection.

Melody squeezed the turtle between her arm and waist and stuffed the teddy bears back in. She turned the corner to find the register and stopped in her tracks.

Wolfgang Braun stood in the middle of the aisle, gazing at a display of sparkling wands as if it was a Monet painting.

Was she hallucinating from lack of sleep? No. That was definitely him: the green polo hugging his broad chest, loose jeans hanging in just the right place, and flip-flops, which managed to look both sexy and easygoing at the same time.

Melody backed up, hiding against a shelf of toddler toys. Her elbow knocked a red ball down, and she scrambled to catch it before it rolled into his aisle. He couldn’t see her like this—holding a gigantic stuffed turtle in her starry-sky pajamas. Why, why, why hadn’t she washed her jeans?

There was only one way out: Beat him to the cash register and run to the car. By the looks of his pensive pondering, he’d be in the sparkling wand aisle for a while. Melody changed direction.

She shuffled down a row of bicycles, ducked behind a display of talking Elmos, and got into line behind an older woman buying a box of Crayolas.

Good. That wouldn’t take too long.

Besides the fact that she looked twelve years old, she couldn’t face him after the dream she’d had. Somehow, the words
you have to kiss me
still made her blush. No, she needed time away, time to forget about how his hands felt under hers or how hot he looked in those Jane Austen clothes.

A teen girl behind the cash register took a swig of her energy drink. The lower half of her head was buzz-cut. The upper half she’d spiked into a pink Mohawk. Her name tag read
K-pazz
. “Three ninety-nine.”

“Oh.” The older woman brought out a paisley handbag. “I have the ninety-nine.”

Melody stared at the teen as though she’d somehow insist the old woman give her another dollar bill, but the girl just popped a piece of bubble gum in her mouth and nodded.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

The old woman dug into a ruby-colored, leopard-skin change purse, pulling out nickels. “Five, ten, fifteen…”

“I see you’ve found a little friend.”

Melody whirled around. Wolf stood with three packs of sparkling wands in his hands. The top button of his polo was undone, showing bronze chest underneath.

The strap of Melody’s tank top chose that horrific moment to fall, and she pushed it back up while balancing the turtle.
This is why you don’t go out in public in your pajamas.
“It’s not for me. It’s for my niece.”

“Of course.” He smiled slyly, as if he’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar, glancing at her pajama bottoms. “Your niece.”

“Violet,” Melody insisted, as if a name would make her any more real. “She’s sick. And she likes turtles.”

His face softened. “I hope it’s not too serious?”

Melody shrugged, trying not to get too emotional in Toys-R-Us holding a giant turtle while an old woman counted pennies. “We’ll see.”

He gazed deep into her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You must be very fond of her to shop at the break of dawn for a stuffed turtle.”

“I am.” A smile broke through Melody’s lips. She didn’t mind living vicariously through Laini when it came to Violet. “My sister is generous enough to share.”

“How lucky for you, and for your niece.” His eyes looked far off into the parking lot beyond the front doors of the store. “I have two nephews back in Germany. They like to wrestle me to the ground.”

Melody blinked. Two little boys wrestling Mr. Stoneface on the carpet? Impossible. Yet hilarious.

She laughed despite herself. “I bet you give them a run for their money.”

“Two toddlers, when they gang up, are stronger than you think.”

She pointed to his three boxes of wands. “That’s a lot of wands. Are those for them?”

Wolf glanced at the wands as if they were the most normal thing a man would buy. “No. Not exactly what I came in for, but they will serve their purpose.” His face closed up like a book slammed shut as he looked toward the cashier.

Guilt trickled through Melody for being so nosy. But guilt didn’t keep her from wanting to know why a grown man would shop at Toys-R-Us on a weekday morning for sparkly wands.

If they weren’t for his nephews, then who were they for?

Did he have kids of his own that he wasn’t telling her about? Like five or ten? Blinking, she chastised her overactive imagination.
Honestly, you’re not dating him. It’s none of your business.
So why did she glance at his ring finger? Wasn’t she supposed to hate him?

Empty. Naked. Bare. No Mrs. Braun waiting at home.

“Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.” The older woman closed her change purse in triumph.

The teen behind the cash register slid the money across the counter and dumped it into the drawer without counting it. Her voice was a dead monotone. “Thanks for shopping at Toys-R-Us.”

K-pazz popped a bubble and looked at Melody.

Just as the conversation was getting interesting…
At least it kept her from asking embarrassing or inappropriate questions.

Melody plopped the ridiculous representation of sea life on the counter. “Just this.”

“K.” The teen rang her up. “Twenty-nine ninety-nine.”

Melody swiped her credit card. “No change for me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wolf watch her carefully as the teen handed her the receipt and she signed her name.

The teen looked at the stuffed animal as if it were a boulder she couldn’t move. “Do you want a bag?”

“No, thanks.” Melody lifted it from the counter and turned back to Wolf. “See you later.”

“Enjoy your time with your niece.” His voice was uncharacteristically kind, making Melody pause and smile. Wolf held her gaze. All the anxiety of her sleepless night disappeared. She felt as though she was saying good-bye to someone she’d known forever.

“See you at rehearsal.” Melody smiled, but with the mention of the orchestra, Wolf’s face turned to stone. Did he regret telling her about his nephews? Like somehow she’d use the information against him?

Wolf paid for his own purchase but stepped aside instead of walking out with her. He didn’t even bother to respond.

Jeez, I was just making polite conversation.
Anger boiled in Melody’s chest as she rushed from the store to her car and stuffed the turtle in the backseat.
Ten kids or not, I’m not falling for another musician. My spontaneous dating days are over.

…

Wolf pretended to be absorbed in organizing his wallet, so he didn’t walk out with Melody. Every time he saw her, she drew him in, melting the stone facade he’d constructed to preserve his job in the States.