Three Guilty Pleasures (Blindfold Club 6)

“Your cello. It was my fault, I shouldn’t have . . .”

The words died in my throat as he stood from his chair. He was even more impressive now, towering over me. The guy was like a tree. Thick and sturdy, and something I’d be happy to climb all over.

“It was an accident,” he said. “I’m right glad you didn’t get hurt.”

I wasn’t imagining it, there definitely was an accent there. New Zealand? Something vaguely British. Like he needed anything else to make him more appealing.

“Grant!” A man nearby reached for the cello but stopped as if he realized just in time it was infected with the plague. His tone was consolatory. “Oh, no.”

The mountain of man who’d been referred to as Grant slid his gaze back to me. I’d just destroyed his precious cello, not to mention his night. He should have been upset or even angry. Instead, he simply stared at me. It was like I was a puzzle he was trying to decipher.

Around us, the orchestra members put back the chairs and stands my stage dive had disrupted. The conductor came down off his platform and scurried over to us. Well, more to Grant.

“Fredrick and Sons string shop,” he announced. “Over in Streeterville. He’ll give you a loaner while he repairs.” He checked his watch. “And I think he’s open until eight.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said instantly.

Both men looked dubious, but Grant gave a sad smile. “That’s really not necessary.”

“It’s the least I can do.” It was clear he’d need more convincing. “Please, I feel awful about it. Let me help.”

“That’s a nice offer,” the conductor interrupted, “but just so you know, a repair like that isn’t going to come cheap.”

“It’s not a problem.” I gazed up at Grant with pleading eyes. It was foolish to basically write a blank check, but this enormous cello-playing man with an unplaceable accent was fascinating. Now that he’d caught me, I was sure I didn’t want to get away. “Grant, is it? I’m Tara. Give me a few minutes to finish up, and we can talk about it on the way to the shop. Deal?”

There was hesitation, but he finally spoke. “All right.”

Blood roared in my ears. I was imagining it. Seeing things that weren’t there, because I was all hyped up on adrenaline. That wasn’t desire in his eyes . . . was it?

“Okay, good.” A thrill zipped through me. “Can you help me back onto the stage?”

-8-

Grant

It had been the look of horror on Daniel’s face and his frozen conductor’s baton that gave me an inkling something was wrong. I paused my bow mid-stroke and looked up, only to see a body flying toward me.

The reaction was pure instinct. I heaved my cello out of the way and rose from my seat, bracing my arms to slow the woman’s fall. She landed safely but hard, driving me back into my seat, and it was a miracle neither of us had gotten hurt. A split second later? She would have ended up skewered on the scroll of my cello.

As soon as I realized she was all right, the rest of my mind began to function again, taking in how beautiful she was. Her eyes were wild, no doubt from shock, but I was sure they were vibrant even when she was calm. They were as bright and blue as a cloudless summer sky.

Her hair was darker at her temples from sweat, but the messy bun of blonde hair on the top of her head was golden. Her nose was pert and cute, leading down to her cupid-bow lips. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.

And her body . . . fuck, this girl did not disappoint. It wasn’t the right time to assess her, but the male part of me was very happy to have served as the landing pad for this sexy woman.

In fact, none of this situation was bad—not until I saw my cello. It gave me the same feeling as taking an opponent’s head to the solar plexus. I clutched my bow so hard, it was surprising it didn’t snap in two.

It took a moment to absorb the image of the splintered neck, the strings no longer taut over the fingerboard, before I remembered I was prepared for this. The cello was valued at nine thousand dollars these days, but my parents had paid considerably more back when they’d bought it for me. Which meant I always carried instrument insurance.

Tara didn’t need to know that just yet, though. She’d offered to go with me to the shop, and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get to know her better. The girl was beautiful, sweet, and there wasn’t a ring on her finger. My cello was broken, but maybe fate had rewarded me for that and literally dropped her in my lap.

I stood beside my chair, and as she climbed up on it, she put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. She probably didn’t need it for balance. Maybe she’d done it as an excuse to touch me. Then up she went, onto the stage to join the group of women waiting anxiously for her.

There was a quick conversation after she confirmed she was okay, and my mouth fell open when one of the girls told Daniel they wanted to start from the beginning.

They were going to run through it again? Would they take out the stunt that had sent Tara flying offstage?

I should have collected my busted cello and put it in its case. I should have looked up the number for Fredrick and Sons on my phone and called to tell them I was coming. But instead I stood beside my chair with my attention on the stage and watched her dance.