“The tea,” she said, nodding toward the cup. “Did I make it right?”
He glanced down at the steaming cup. “I’m sure you did.”
“Taste it.”
It was still too hot, but heaven help him if he tried to tell her that. Gingerly lifting the cup to his lips, he took a small sip of the too-sweet, too-weak tea. “Perfect,” he lied with a smile. “Perfect.”
Her glare softened a smidgen, and she pushed a strand of her bangs behind her ear. “Good.” She glanced away, dropped one of her hands to her hip, then lifted her arms again to cross her chest. “I don’t suppose Lori has made tea for you.”
He blinked at the odd question and chuckled. “Not at all. I’m not sure she knows how.”
Maria lifted her chin, and her lips lifted the slightest bit into an almost smile. “She can’t cook, either.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t,” he agreed. “After all, she has staff for that.”
Her face fell again. “I’m not wealthy,” she said. “So I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in me.”
When she turned to walk away, he felt an overwhelming sense of panic. “You would be wrong,” he said, the words bubbling up from somewhere inside him. Somewhere that wouldn’t be denied.
She stopped, her hand on the doorknob, and he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a breath and released it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he began, then broke off, utterly conflicted. “Please come back. Just for a few moments.” Setting down his cup of tea, he returned to the piano and began to play the melody that had burned its way into his brain and heart over the last couple of days. He hadn’t needed to write down the notes, because he couldn’t escape the song. It followed him everywhere all the time, even when he slept. The music brimmed with passion and hints of sadness, strength, and vulnerability.
He stopped when the notes and chords in his mind stopped, although he knew it wasn’t the end of the piece.
Silence clung to the air like humidity just before a summer rain. The only sound he could hear was his heart beating inside his head.
“Finish it,” Maria finally whispered, walking toward him. “It’s beautiful. Finish it. I want to hear the rest.”
“That’s all I know,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I know it’s not finished, but that’s all I know.”
“It’s so beautiful. Why didn’t you play it tonight for Virginia? And Lori.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, more in pain than any other emotion he could read.
“It’s not finished,” he said, then added, “And it’s a personal piece.”
She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Then why did you play it for me?”
His heart hammered in his chest. This was so right. Yet so wrong. But he couldn’t seem to stop any of it. “The name of the piece is ‘Maria.’”
She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze fixed on his, a dozen emotions flying through her dark eyes. Then she bit her lip and her eyes grew shiny. “You wrote it for me?”
“I wrote it because of you,” he said. Because her being had taunted and tormented him from their first meeting. “I wrote it about you.” He took a deep breath. “That was you in music. The reason it’s not finished is because that’s all I know.”
She sat beside him on the piano bench. “No one has ever written a song about me.” She lifted her hand to his face. “Why did you do it?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you write one for Lori?”
“Lori is a lovely person,” he said, watching her gaze darken as he said the words. She started to pull her hand away from his face, but he caught it in his. “It’s true. She is lovely. But she is not the woman who has captivated me like no other woman has. I never dreamed a woman could affect me this much. Never.”
She lifted her chin, challenge and fire mixing in her gaze. “You are an odd man.”
He blinked at her response. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for, although if he got what he was hoping for, he’d be in a bloody vat of trouble. “I’m not sure what to-”
“Don’t say anything right now,” she told him. “You talk too much.”
Affronted, he opened his mouth to correct her.
She covered his lips with her index finger and leaned against him. Her gorgeous, delicious breasts, about which he’d fantasized, brushed his chest, rendering him mute. “But your British accent makes up for it,” she added with a smile. “So polite on the outside, but I can tell you’re lusting after me in your heart.”
His heart wasn’t the only organ she was affecting at the moment. Holding his breath, he shifted slightly, praying she wouldn’t move away from him.
She didn’t. Instead, she leaned closer, mashing her splendid breasts against his chest. She lifted her lips to his. “You are very odd,” she said against his lips. “But you are also cute. All those proper English manners. I wonder how bad you are underneath,” she said, then took his mouth in a scorching kiss.
Geoffrey felt as if a fire blazed straight through him. His heart raced, his mind thundered. Music poured through him. A new sound, a new movement. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He never wanted her to move away.
Her tongue taunted and tasted his, daring him to go deeper. He took the plunge, delving into her silken, sexy mouth. She was everything voluptuous, sexual, wild, and free. So amazing he couldn’t have dreamed a woman like this.
Hungry, he devoured her mouth and slid his hands around her back, drawing her as close as he could. The soft catch of her breath and moan hit him like pure whiskey.
He lifted one of his hands to the side of her breast and she arched against him as if she wanted more. The movement made him hard as a rock. Pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him, he slid his hand beneath her shirt and upward to cup her breast.
“Yes, yes,” she said in a husky, sexy whisper, arching again, wiggling against his crotch.
He wanted to feel her flesh, her bare nipple. Struggling with her bra, he searched for the fastening in the back.
“It’s in the front,” she said and ran her tongue over his lower lip, still wiggling her lush bottom over his crotch.
Sweating with arousal, he slid his hand between them and unhooked her bra. Her breasts sprang free against her shirt, and he immediately took one in his hand. Her nipple was already turgid, and the knowledge that she was so aroused sent him spiraling.
She suckled his tongue, making passionate noises of approval while he fondled her breasts. She continued to undulate against his erection, and suddenly it was too much. A roaring orgasm swept through him, and he went over the top.
Moaning and swearing, he clung to her. Bloody hell, he hadn’t done that since- Had he ever done that? He was amazed and embarrassed. What must she think?
“I don’t know what to say. I apol-”
“Oh, don’t you dare apologize,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger. “Unless you are ashamed of your feelings for me.”
“God, no,” he said. “But-”
She stood, leaning over him, her legs separated by his between hers. “If you think that was hot, my odd Englishman, you should know I was just getting started.”
He inhaled, drawing in her scent, feeling like a damn stallion scenting a mare in heat. She made him feel as if he was in rut. Permanently.
He slid his hand to her denim-covered thigh and then up to her rounded hip. “Is that an invitation to continue?”
She tossed her head back and laughed, brushing aside his hand as she stepped away. “Later,” she said and added, “if you please me. Work on my song. Play more for me next time, and we’ll see,” she said and sauntered out of the room.
Geoffrey stared after her, feeling as if he’d been whacked with a slab of stone that weighed a ton.
The following afternoon after Lori finished her regular cleaning chores, she found Virginia at the kitchen table, clearly mulling over her bank accounts. Lori rubbed Kenny’s soft fur and watched the older woman mutter as she scribbled, erased, then scribbled again. Virginia raked a hand through her gray hair and wrinkled her brows.