“Did I snore?” she asked sleepily, and he laughed. It was the first time she had ever felt relaxed with him. It was nice. And so was he, this time. It almost made her wonder if they could be friends. Before this she would have never thought it possible. She was seeing a different side of him.
“Loudly,” he teased her in answer to her question. “First, you woke me up. Then the neighbors complained.” She laughed at what he said. He set a plate down next to her, with sliced fruit and salad on it, and a little wedge of cheese with crackers. “I thought you might be hungry when you woke up.” He was being incredibly attentive, and she had to admit, it was enjoyable. She was feeling lazy and spoiled. He was a wonderful host, and had done everything he said he would, including leaving her alone, and not even talking. He disappeared again then after that, and a moment later she heard him playing the piano in the music room off the pool. It had a glass wall that slid back, and after she ate, she got up and wandered into the room. He was playing a complicated Bach piece, and paid no attention to her. She sat and listened to him, amazed by his skill and talent, and finally he looked over at her.
“I always play on Sundays,” he said with a happy smile. “It's the best part of my week. I really miss it when I don't.” She remembered that he had trained as a concert pianist, and wondered why he hadn't pursued it. He had truly amazing talent. And he obviously loved it. “Do you play an instrument?” he asked with interest.
“Just my computer,” she said with a shy smile. He was a most unusual man, with a wide range of abilities and interests.
“I built a piano once,” he informed her as the piece came to an end. “It actually worked. I still have it. It's on the boat. It was a lot of fun to make.”
“Is there anything you can't do?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding emphatically. “Cook. Eating bores me. It seems like such a waste of time.” It explained why he was so thin, and never stopped for lunch during meetings. “I do it just to stay alive. Some people treat it like a hobby. I can't stand that. I don't have the patience to sit at a dinner table for five hours, or to cook for twice as long. Aside from that, I don't play golf, although I can. That bores me, too. And I never play bridge, although I used to. People get nasty and petty about it. If I'm going to fight with someone or insult them, I'd rather do it about something I care about, not a hand of cards.” What he said made sense and made her laugh.
“I feel that way about bridge, too. I played in college, and I haven't played since, for that reason. Do you play tennis?” she asked him for no particular reason, other than conversation, as he started another piece on the piano, which required less concentration than the first one.
“I do. I like squash better. It's faster.” He was a man of little patience who moved at top speed in all things. He was an interesting person to study, and she thought about putting someone like him in a short story sometime. She could do amazing things with a character with so many facets.
“I've played squash, but I'm not great at it. My husband plays, too. I'm better at tennis.”
“We'll play sometime,” he said, as he focused on the music for a while and she enjoyed listening to him. Eventually, she went back to the pool to lie down so she didn't disturb him. He seemed to be lost in the piece. It was another hour before he stopped playing and wandered out.
“I loved listening to you play,” she said with admiration, as he sat down in a chair near her. He looked energized and refreshed and his eyes were bright. Playing always did that to him. It was easy to see why he loved it. He was so good at it, and a real pleasure to listen to.
“Playing the piano feeds my soul,” he said simply. “I couldn't live without it.”
“I feel that way about writing,” she confided in him.
“I can tell by the way you write,” he said, looking at her. She looked comfortable and relaxed, which she wouldn't have thought possible when he invited her to spend the day at his pool. He had surprised her, and it had been a lovely, totally easy day. She felt restored. “That's why I always wanted to work with you, because I knew from reading you that you had that kind of passion and love for your work, just like I do with the piano. Most people don't have that. I knew you did from the first piece I read. It's a rare gift, for both of us.” She nodded, flattered, and didn't comment. They sat in silence for a while, and then she looked at her watch. She was surprised to see it was five o'clock. She had been there for six hours and the time had flown by.
“I should go. If you call a cab, I'll go back to the hotel,” she said, starting to gather up her things and put them back in her bag. He shook his head at the mention of the cab.
“I'll take you back.” It wasn't far, but she didn't want to bother him. He had done enough. It had been a perfect day, and her grief and guilt over not seeing Peter and the children had vanished.
“I'll be fine in a cab,” she insisted.
“I know you will. But I'm perfectly happy to drop you off.” He walked inside to get his keys and a moment later emerged, as she stood up. He walked her into the garage, which was so immaculate it looked like an operating room, and opened the door of a silver Ferrari. She got in on the passenger side, as he started the car, and a moment later they were heading back to her hotel. They rode in comfortable silence, after the relaxing afternoon they had spent together. Although they had said little, she felt as though they had made friends. She had learned new things about him that afternoon that previously she hadn't even guessed, and loved listening to him play the piano. It had been the high point of her afternoon.
The Ferrari slid under the roof covering the driveway at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and he looked at her with a smile. “It was a great day, Tanya, wasn't it?”
“I loved it,” she said honestly. “I feel like I had a vacation.” It had been the next best thing to going home, which she hadn't expected at all, and surely not with him. She had always felt tense when he was around. Today she had even slept across the pool from him, and read for hours without talking. There were few people she could do that with, other than her husband. It was an odd thought.
“So did I. You're the perfect Sunday guest, other than the snoring of course,” he teased her, and then laughed.
“Did I really snore?” She looked embarrassed, and he pretended to look mysterious.
“I won't tell. I'll turn you over next time. They say that works.” She laughed, and didn't really care if she had, which was even more amazing. In a single afternoon, she had gotten comfortable with him. It was going to make working with him a lot nicer from now on, having seen this side of him. “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” he asked her casually. It was a spur-of-the-moment thought. “I was going to grab some Chinese takeout. We could eat it there, or I could bring it back to the hotel. We both have to eat, and it's not as dreary, having dinner with a friend. Any interest?” It sounded good to her. She'd been planning to order room service while working at her computer. Chinese takeout sounded like more fun.
“Sure. That would be nice. Why don't you bring it here?”
“Perfect. Seven-thirty? I have some calls to make, and I swim laps every night.” He seemed to keep active and was very athletic. It explained how he stayed so trim and fit.
“Sounds fine to me,” Tanya said easily.
“What do you like to eat?” he asked politely.
“Spring rolls, sweet and sour anything, beef, shrimp, whatever you like.”
“I'll get an assortment of stuff,” he promised. She thanked him, got out, and he sped off with a wave in the sleek silver car.
Tanya went in and showered, and checked her messages. There was a call from Jean Amber about the script. When Tanya called her back, she was out. She called Peter and the girls then. They had just come in from a baseball game. They were Giants fans, and had season tickets. They were all in a good mood, and no one seemed too upset that she hadn't come home. She was both relieved and saddened by it all at once.