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He finished playing and looked up at her.
‘Very nice,’ she said politely.
‘But you had to concentrate.’
She stared at him in surprise. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because of the pitch being so low. I wondered if you’d be able to hear it properly or if it’d be in your difficult zone.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Can I ask you something weird?’
‘Weird?’
‘Come and sit by me and put your hand against the cello’s body, just here.’ He touched the lower left side of the cello. ‘If you can feel the vibrations, it’ll help you hear the music.’
‘But won’t I get in the way of your bow?’
‘No, because my arm will be above your head and the bow’s going down to the left.’
‘And it won’t, um, damage the polish or anything? You know, with the natural oils on my fingertips and what have you?’
He laughed. ‘It’s not a Stradivarius or a museum piece, Katrina. Just a cello. Touching it won’t hurt it at all. Come and sit with me.’
She took a cushion from the sofa, then came to sit at his feet, resting her hand against the cello as he’d directed.
‘This is probably my favourite piece by Bach.’ He began to play again, and she discovered he was right about the instrument. Feeling the vibration of the note helped her to hear it.
‘That’s lovely,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘And I know what that was—the Air on the G String. Dad’s got a version of it.’
He nodded.
‘Don’t stop playing,’ she said softly.
The next piece was so beautiful she found herself almost in tears. ‘That’s amazing. What is it?’
‘The adagio cantabile from Beethoven’s Pathétique Sonata. Strictly speaking, it’s a piano piece—but I think it works on the cello, too.’ He shrugged. ‘I used to drive my cello teacher crazy, transcribing my favourite piano pieces.’
‘But you play so well. I think I’m beginning to understand why Maddie loves music so much.’
‘Music’s food for the soul,’ he said softly.
‘Would it be greedy to ask for more?’
‘You want more, young Oliver?’ he teased.
She took her hand from the cello. ‘Sorry.’
‘I was teasing.’ He switched the bow to his other hand, then reached down with his right hand to take hers. ‘If you’d like me to play a bit more, it’d be my pleasure.’
Lord, the touch of his hand against hers…She couldn’t help curling her fingers round his. For a long, long moment they said nothing, just looked at each other. And Katrina found herself wondering what it would be like to feel his hands against her skin. Would he touch her with the same precision as he played the notes? Would he coax the same kind of response from her body that he coaxed from the cello?
It was, oh, so tempting.
But there would always be a morning after the night before. And given that they both had issues, she really needed to take a metaphorical step backwards. Right now.
‘So Bach’s your favourite composer?’ she asked brightly, uncurling her fingers.
She saw the acknowledgement in his eyes: that he’d been thinking exactly the same thing. Wondering what it would be like to touch her properly. Wondering how she’d react to his hands, his mouth.
‘Definitely. Actually, I ache a bit from lugging boxes around. I’ll play you more another time.’
‘I’ll go and put the kettle on,’ Katrina said. And the awkward moment was avoided, she thought.
For now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE following morning, when Katrina got up, she could smell coffee. Clearly Rhys was up already. She showered and dressed swiftly, and walked into the kitchen. ‘Good morning.’
‘Morning,’ he replied.
‘And you’ve made coffee. Wonderful.’ She smiled. ‘I think I could get used to this.’
‘Ah, no. It’ll be your turn to make the coffee tomorrow,’ he said lightly.
‘Did you sleep OK?’
‘Very well, thanks.’
‘Good.’ She rummaged in the cupboard. ‘Cereals or toast?’
‘You don’t have to make breakfast for me or wait on me, Katrina.’
‘I know. But I’m making toast for myself, and it’s as quick to stick four slices of bread under the grill as it is two,’ she pointed out.
‘Then toast would be lovely. Thanks.’ He poured them both a mug of coffee, adding milk to hers. ‘Well. Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
It had been a long time since Katrina had shared her space like this. But she actually found herself enjoying it—and it would be was good to have company on the walk to work.
After breakfast, she enjoyed walking in to work with Rhys; in the weeks since Madison had moved, Katrina had missed walking in to the hospital with her cousin.
