Unlikely Harmony, page 3
“Any other requests?” Jasper asked, his confidence just bordering on arrogance, which was disturbingly attractive. “Perhaps an original?”
Several locks of his unruly, wavy, dark hair had fallen on his forehead during the frantic performance. My fingers itched to put the errant strands back in place. What in the actual hell is that kind of thinking?
I inclined my head and tucked Mimi under my chin. The small dog nestled into the crook of my neck, always knowing when her master needed just a little bit of indulgent affection and more-than-willing to share the puppy love.
Smiling with a somewhat dreamy look in his eyes, something that created an avalanche of questions in my mind, Jasper began his next piece, which led to a third then more. An hour ticked by and I nearly lost myself in the fresh, but always on point, music the man created.
Nearly.
My as-yet-unnamed opera had been sitting dormant for months, not only due to my schedule but also because of a complete mental block. If Jasper wrote his own work, perhaps he could be more valuable to me than just as an accompanist. Maybe he could offer a thought or two—and most definitely only one or two—to help me break past the barrier that was stopping my brain from completing the piece.
Every time I found myself allowing the notes to wrap around me and pull me into their sea of warmth and comfort, my mouth would open for the briefest of moments before snapping closed. The bleak reality of the next fourteen days without the ability to make a sound slapped me in the face once more.
Not unlike the glass of ice water my last disastrous date had splashed in my face when our evening had devolved into a heated debate on musical prowess… The memory brought a small, sardonic grin to my lips. It had been a battle the man had been woefully unprepared for.
I am Sebastian Chevalier, after all. I’ve lived and breathed music since I was a child and my grand-père opened my small world to the beauty of opera, his greatest passion.
My gaze landed on the only thing in the room I adored more than Mimi, Siobhan and my piano—the collection of figurines arranged on the shelves just behind where Jasper stood. I zeroed in on my favorite turquoise statue, the creature that appeared to travel-weary sailors as a half-woman, half-fish with a lithe body and long, flowing hair. My favorite Greek myth had always been the sirens.
That was exactly what the man creating these enticing and beautiful tunes was, a modern-day siren…tempting and teasing me with the impossible while I was incapacitated, and with more than just with the music—with his creamy complexion, nimble fingers and disarmingly adorable smile.
I flexed my jaw several times in rapid succession before placing a kiss on the crown of Mimi’s head and handing her to my sister. I scribbled a brief note on the lined paper, set it beside Siobhan and walked out of the room without a backward glance.
Too tempting. The man was too tempting on too many levels and I needed to satiate at least one of my needs before facing him again. Singing was categorically off the table, but there were certainly other things I could do.
And I would be facing him again. His skills—not only as a violinist, but also as a composer, based on the beautiful pieces he called his originals—were breathtaking. Without a doubt he was the man I needed working with me on what I knew would be the greatest opera of today.
It would be a Sebastian Chevalier original. The first Sebastian Chevalier original. It was bound to be wildly successful.
As soon as my bedroom door was closed, I slid my phone from my pants pocket and scrolled through my contacts.
My finger hovered over Lucian’s name for a brief moment before I opened a text window. The Italian soprano was in town for a six-week performance at the Seattle Opera House and was always amenable to a quick, no-strings-attached romp.
Damn, damn, and double damn. Every time I attempted to type an invitation to Lucian, my mind conjured an image of dark, wavy hair moving rhythmically with soul-shattering music, and the desire for any other man fell away.
The incessant longing for something more than a random hookup seemed to grow by leaps and bounds the longer I sat there in forced silence. My libido, which usually could be satiated by convenient ‘friends with benefits’, damn near evaporated at the thought.
I groaned then cursed myself silently. I fell back on the bed, my phone slipping from my grasp and landing on the mattress beside me. Hiring Jasper, offering him the opportunity to work on the opera with me, wasn’t in question. I had already interviewed more than a dozen accompanists and none of them could hold a candle to him. The man’s talent was clearly not simply taught, but was a natural gift that the top-rated schools on his resume had managed to hone and polish into the beautiful creation I had to assume was still in my house, based on the muted voices I was straining to hear…a fact that annoyed me.
Why couldn’t the blasted man be sixty with an expanding waistline and a hooked nose? Why the hell did Jasper Lorde have to have the lean build that I always found so enticing, with dark eyes that managed to hold a sparkle of mischief that was so damn attractive?
And that hair… That messy, unkempt hair that practically screamed to have every strand toyed with and for me to hold it in a firm grip to keep his head in place wherever I wanted it…
I pulled a blue chevron pillow over my face. This was inconvenient. So very, very inconvenient.
Chapter Four
Jasper
The final notes of the piece tickled my ear as I pulled the bow back across the strings and nodded to the empty loft. I tucked Phoebe safely inside her case. Siobhan had simultaneously offered me the job and given me the music Sebastian had written so far without actually asking if I’d take the position.
I snorted and pulled on my jacket. Of course I would. While I wasn’t as star-struck as the great Sebastian Chevalier probably expected—or undoubtedly wanted—me to be, thanks to the long list of symphonic, operatic and contemporary greats I’d been fortunate enough to work with, I was impressed by the man and still couldn’t imagine turning down the opportunity.
And I’d spent the rest of the day Friday, as well as the whole of the weekend, studying and practicing the sheets. Yeah, I contained my fandom as much as possible to his face, but in the solitude of my loft in the industrial warehouse that had been converted into an apartment building, I could freely admit that the man was a fucking genius.
I made a few notes where I thought changes would serve the piece better, and my lips twitched with an involuntary smile at the knowledge that the grumpy blond might not appreciate the suggestions in spite of Siobhan’s assertions that Sebastian had wanted input, thanks to a case of musical writer’s block. But pissing him off would make it all the more delightful.
I placed the still perfectly crisp music sheets into the folder, loaded it into my backpack and grabbed Phoebe’s handle. I barely contained the urge to skip down the stairs. I shouldn’t be nearly this excited to spend the day rehearsing with a grumpy, mute operatic sensation.
But I was. Heaven help me, I was.
Then the damn-near-euphoric optimism that had been thrumming through my veins came to a screeching halt. I pushed through the front door to my building just in time to see a deep red sedan speed past. The immediate flood of panic in response sent ice coursing down my spine and held my stomach in an iron grasp. My legs refused to move and I stood motionless in the middle of the sidewalk, reminding myself how to take full, deep breaths. For a few passing moments, I allowed my hands to tremble before I forced them under control.
Coping techniques my therapist had taught me so long ago immediately came to mind. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Wrong car, wrong city, wrong time.” The familiar mantra fell from my lips with no input from my brain three times in rapid succession. I forced my feet back into something I could only hope appeared to be a normal cadence to anyone watching.
Annoyance with myself mingled with the lingering effects of my still-far-more-present-than-I-liked PTSD. Every time I thought I’d finally worked past nearly all my issues, I’d get slapped in the face with the harsh reality once more.
By the time my train came to a stop at the edge of the small suburban town of Red Cedar, just outside of Seattle, that Sebastian called home, my legs were nearly at full strength. Nearly.
Thankfully the half-mile walk to his house in the crisp fall air cleared my head enough that I could plaster a genuine smile on my face. Well, pretty much genuine. As much as the wisps of the demons that still haunted my unconscious and sometimes conscious mind would allow.
And the grin was most certainly not at all because I was looking forward to seeing Sebastian again. That would be ridiculous.
I pressed the bell beside the white door and nearly lost all the balance I’d so recently regained when Siobhan swung it open and grabbed my shoulders in what seemed to be one smooth movement. The man himself might be difficult at times, but his sister was charming.
She kissed each cheek and beamed at me with a slightly disarming million-watt smile. “Oh, Jasper, it’s so good to see you again.” She tugged me into the house by my one free hand with somewhat surprising strength, which belied her petite build. “Now, Mr. Grumpypants has been working since…oh, about five o’clock this morning, so his normal gruff and bluster might be a tiny bit exaggerated.”
I managed to extract myself from her firm grip while she spoke and gently set Phoebe down, letting my backpack slide to the floor. An irrepressible chuckle stopped me mid removal of my coat. “Did you just call Sebastian Chevalier—the Sebastian Chevalier—‘Mr. Grumpypants?’”
A dimple appeared on her cheek as her grin widened. “There are benefits to being the little sister of ‘The Great One’.” She winked and shrugged. “Besides, that was just a polite way of saying he’s being a fucking impossible asshole, so make sure you’re prepared.”
Up until that moment, my interactions with the Chevalier siblings—first via phone with Siobhan when arranging the initial meeting and at the ‘interview’ itself—had been incredibly proper and I’d been fairly certain nothing vulgar had passed either of their lips, certainly not to the level of my admittedly sailor-esque mouth at times. Siobhan’s cheeky insult of her brother both stunned and amused me.
She tsked and hooked a finger beneath my chin, closing my parted lips. “Now, now, Jasper, don’t be so easily shocked. Once Sebby can speak again… Well, let’s just say that while my brother is the most refined gentleman you’ll ever meet in public, behind closed doors he has a bit of a potty mouth, especially when things don’t go exactly as he has planned.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Which basically is anytime the master doesn’t get his way.”
I grabbed the handle of Phoebe’s case and slung my backpack over the opposite shoulder. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to keep my virgin ears plugged when he returns to the land of the speaking.”
Siobhan slipped a camel-colored coat on over her pale pink blouse. “Oh, I never told you. There is parking behind our house, just off the alley. But you can park out front too.”
My back automatically stiffened in response, a move I could only hope she didn’t notice. Unless Sebastian expected me to perform at an opera house that didn’t offer direct railway or subway access, I’d never have to show those hidden scars to either him or his sister, neither of whom I was certain could possibly grasp the lingering pain. “Nah, I’m good. I took the train then walked from the station. Gotta soak up what’s left of the bearable weather before we hit rainy season.”
A small measure of the tension knotting my shoulder disappeared at her breathy laugh. “Darling, this is Washington. It’s always rainy season.”
“Where are you off to anyway?” I leaned against the doorframe. “Offering me as a sacrifice to the surly beast that lurks within?”
A grin played at the corners of her mouth. “Work, my darling Jasper. There are those of us who have to earn an actual living because we haven’t been born with ‘the gift’, like you and my brother.”
Surprise struck me for the second time within a few moments before I managed to school my face into something more passive, hoping she hadn’t noticed. It was well known the Chevaliers had been born into sizable wealth and Sebastian’s natural ability mixed with his impossibly good looks to make him an in-demand performer who transcended generations. Teenagers, who normally eschewed staid opera houses, fangirled—and fanboyed—all over him.
All those reasons, in my world at least, added up to Siobhan being a pampered, albeit charming, heiress rather than a working woman. Perhaps I was being slightly judgmental…or more than slightly.
She lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed my cheek again before tilting her head to the side and staring at me with eyes that seemed to see way too much—much more than I wanted to share. “Yes. I really do like you.”
Warmth crept up the back of my neck. “You barely know me.”
Siobhan slid the strap of a purse that perfectly matched her coat onto her shoulder. “For now. But I have a sixth sense about these things. Now go find the beast hiding in the dark corner and offer yourself as a token to appease him.”
The woman nearly left me speechless with her unwitting verbiage that hit far closer to my truth than she could possibly know. First with the ‘master’, then the bit about ‘offering myself’. She had no idea. “I’ll make sure I tell your brother you think he requires appeasing.”
She raised her eyebrows, one hand on the doorknob, and quirked a far-too-mischievous and slightly salacious smile. “He needs much more than that, but we’ll start with what we can.” She pressed her lips to the palm of her free hand and blew a kiss. “I left my number on the refrigerator if he becomes too much to handle.”
When the click of the door confirmed her departure, I closed my eyes in the empty foyer. The stirring Siobhan’s words caused to my long-neglected libido mingled with my ridiculous attraction and created a slight increase in my pulse that required a few extra beats to return to normalcy. Sebastian Chevalier wasn’t simply out of my league. He was the complete opposite of everything I was normally attracted to. I much preferred someone who was optimistic, cheerful and had a desire to live life to the fullest.
Someone more like the me I’d become over the past few years… Someone who didn’t take a single second for granted…because the next one wasn’t guaranteed.
Well, that and someone who could effectively and enjoyably wield a flogger. I swallowed down the groan threatening to escape. The mental image of him with a few choice punishment devices was going to be a hard one to dismiss from my overly active imagination.
And despite Siobhan’s assertions about Sebastian’s potty mouth, I was certain the man couldn’t understand or respect the lifestyle I loved. He would be far too reserved and proper to even know what BDSM was, much less how integral my role was to my ability to finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
So why I was more than just physically aroused at the notion of pulling the bad-tempered blond into bed with me or, even more, the insane fantasies that had overcome me of falling to my knees before him, was a puzzle I wasn’t interested in solving.
At least not yet.
Chapter Five
Sebastian
The man clearly does not own a hairbrush.
I pressed my lips together tightly as Jasper walked in, his dark locks tousled in the most disarmingly attractive way. Damn him.
I grabbed the notebook that was propped beside the music sheets in front of me on the piano and scribbled out a question before turning it to Jasper. I didn’t think it was possible to loathe pen and paper so much, but dependence on anything wasn’t my strong suit. Reliance on something as ridiculous as this just to communicate with the outside world was frustrating as hell.
Did you practice?
A small part of me recoiled on the inside. What I’d written was rude and I knew it. My mother would be appalled and Grand-père would give me a stern glare. A ‘hi’ or ‘how are you?’ would have been far more appropriate, but the inner turmoil and despair at staying silent was chipping away at me. Even before the hemorrhage on my vocal cords, my temper hadn’t always been well controlled, but I’d certainly managed to be just a little kinder.
Unfazed, Jasper grinned as he sat his violin case down and unzipped his backpack. “All weekend. And I’ve made a few suggestions.” A mischievous glimmer lit the man’s chocolate-colored eyes as he handed over photocopies of my piece, my baby, with purple notations in the margins. “Don’t worry. I didn’t desecrate the originals.”
I arched a single brow at Jasper, taking the proffered sheets. As much as simply the thought of the word burned my currently unused tongue, I couldn’t help the intrigue bubbling within me. Perhaps he would be the key to unlocking my unfinished opera.
I parted my lips to speak but quickly shut them—not because the remembrance of my…incapacity came to mind, but because of the look on Jasper’s face. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down repeatedly in rapid succession and he blinked several times.
What in the bloody hell is that reaction all about?
With far more force than the simple task required, I arranged the papers in front of me and began pounding out the music. I was ruthlessly taking some of my irritation out on the innocent keys.
Damn, damn and double damn.
The changes were good. About halfway through, my fingers lightened their touch on the ivory. I barely held my lip from curling back and most certainly didn’t even look at the man. Too fucking good. Jasper had managed to not only feel the essence I had been intent on creating but added an additional layer that was dark, sensual and enticing.
The music—and the man leaning his forearms on the piano as I played—were twisting and twining together, creating a very uncomfortable tightening of my khaki pants. A cautiously optimistic expression on Jasper’s face silenced any sure-to-be-jealousy-induced complaints that danced on the tip of my tongue. A small measure of the tension that held my spine impossibly rigid melted away.
