Page 45 of Hotter than Wildfire

There was nothing in her head but the beautiful music, her hands playing completely on their own. She didn’t have to think of the playing at all. Buzz had called her a natural, and maybe she was. It felt as if the music flowed from her fingers like water from a natural spring. It came from her heart, sure, but it came from the sun and the earth and the very air around her.

She had no idea where she was, who was listening. It didn’t make any difference whether there was one person or a thousand or even no one. The music was hers, now and forever, and her soul took ease for the space of the songs.

She finished with her favourite song in all the world. Stand by Me. It had always seemed like one of those phrases that said it all. Stand by me. All you needed in this life was someone to stand by you.

She sang it slow, like a ballad, a ballad for the lost ones, for all those who’d never had a loved one stand by them, and she sang it like a requiem, because it was a world in which so few stood by anyone. Because so few people were loved.

The last note echoed in the room. She often sang with her eyes closed, completely absorbed in the music. But eventually, as all good things must, the music finished and she came slowly back into the world.

A little sadly and a little reluctantly, because the music had been like spending time in a sun-dappled garden where nothing bad could ever happen. And now she had to return to the world, the real world, full of danger and cruelty.

Her hands fell from the keyboard and she opened her eyes and looked at her little audience, expecting polite smiles, maybe a little light applause.

Instead, Sam and Mike were looking stunned. Harry was looking hard, grim. Nicole wiped a tear from her face.

Ellen was alarmed, particularly at what she saw in the men’s expressions. “What?” She looked at Nicole. “It was that bad?”

“God. No, not at all.” Nicole gave a watery smile. It was a good thing Ellen liked her so much, otherwise she’d hate her for looking so great even when crying. “It was—it was just so moving, so beautiful. Your voice—I can’t describe it. And that last song. I never really thought of it that way before. It made me think of my father. You’re so talented, Ellen. No wonder Harry listened to you for hours on end.”

Ellen looked at Harry, startled as he suddenly stood up and crossed to her. “Time to go home,” he said, putting his huge hand under her elbow and lifting. She rose, because it was either that or leave her elbow behind.

Before she knew it, they were at the front door. Harry didn’t appear to move fast, but she scrambled to keep up.

“Thanks for dinner!” Ellen managed to call out over her shoulder at three utterly surprised faces. She and Harry stepped over the threshold, the door whooshed shut behind them and they were alone in the hallway.

NINE

San Diego

Harry stood in the elevator with Ellen, going down to his apartment, concentrating on the word down because his boner was about ready to punch a hole through his pants.

He stared straight ahead, willing Ellen to stare straight ahead, too, because if she looked down, she’d understand exactly what that abrupt exit from Sam’s house really meant.

Harry was sorry for the way he acted. Or he’d be sorry tomorrow, just as soon as some blood returned to his head. Or they had sex.

Whichever came first.

He didn’t even recognize himself. He knew he could be as rude as he wanted to his two brothers, rudeness bounced right off their broad backs. But he’d behaved abominably to Nicole, who’d arranged a nice relaxing evening for them, never expecting that it would be cut short by a maniac. Nicole deserved better.

And man, Ellen deserved better, too.

He thought his heart would explode listening to her, listening to Eve, in the flesh. Singing live, for him, something he’d never even thought of asking whoever was up there for, because it was too absurd to even contemplate.

And yet, there she’d been, in Nicole and Sam’s beautiful library, weaving her spell. Listening to her music in the dark—that had saved his life. Listening to her playing live, not five feet from him—well, that had been magic.

And it turned out that this magical voice was attached to a gorgeous face and a stunning little body that had awakened his long-dormant libido.

Sam’s wife Nicole was a beautiful woman, almost outrageously so. She had a head-turning, traffic-stopping kind of beauty. Ellen’s beauty was quieter, more delicate. She didn’t turn heads, or at least not right away. And yet, Harry had barely been able to look at Nicole when Ellen was in the room.

Everything about her fascinated him. Her delicate manners, that soft, compelling voice with a smile in it, the clear porcelain skin and uptilted green eyes. She was a little too thin, making her look incredibly fragile. But that was probably because she’d spent the past year in hiding with murderous thugs after her.

Harry’s fists tightened and he saw Ellen look up at him, startled. That was another thing about her, besides looks and talent. She seemed to have an extra sense, another gear to her.

That was great because it had probably saved her life, but it had also made her run from Sam and him. And now she was picking up on the violent emotions coursing through him at the thought of Gerald Montez after her.

He was emoting aggression and violence and she picked up on that. It wasn’t directed against her. God no. He’d rather shoot himself in the chest than hurt her in any way. But how could she know that?

Harry forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle. Wrenched the hatred of Gerald Montez out of his head, like ripping out a strong weed with deep roots. There would be a time to savor killing the sick fuck, but that time was not now.