A Reckless Note (Brilliance Trilogy 1)
For just a moment, I’m frozen there, staring at him, trying to understand what’s happening. What am I doing with this man, and why, despite all my mother’s warnings and my good sense, do I want to keep doing it?
His lips hint at a smile, his eyes with mischief. “Should I tell you what I’m reading into that look you’re giving me right now?”
“No, actually,” I say quickly, pretty sure my look was far more telling than intended. “Don’t.” I sit.
He laughs that low and sultry laugh of his and helps me scoot up to the table. Once I’m settled, he claims the seat next to me. “You want to tell me yourself, then?” he asks.
“No. I don’t believe I will.”
He considers me a moment, those blue eyes seeing a bit too much for my comfort before he lets me off the hook. He shrugs out of his jacket and settles it on the back of his chair. “How upset was your client?”
“Pretty upset, but not at me,” I say. “I called him right before the bidding and confirmed his top price. He did pressure me this morning to right his wrong, but clearly, I never had a chance with Alexander.”
“No. You didn’t. What he says and does is always about positioning and an agenda. Alexander is all about power.” He angles in my direction, all of his attention on me. “Every move he makes is about control and power.”
“But your moves aren’t?”
“I’m many things, but I don’t resemble Alexander in any way.” It’s not exactly a direct answer, I realize, but before I can push him, he adds, “If you haven’t figured that out yet, you will.”
The comment takes me off guard. It suggests that he’s offering me the opportunity to find out, to know him, and my head swims with the right and wrong of what’s happening between me and this man, and something is happening. And so, at least for now, I dare to accept. “It seems you’re a regular here.”
“I’ve been coming in here since I was a kid with my parents. Jenny and Jerry were good friends with my parents. They’re like second parents to me. They used to reward me with cookies and cupcakes for long hours of practice.”
I give a tiny smile. “No wonder you were able to skip the line.”
“A little perk, yes.”
Jenny appears beside our table and sets our coffees and cookies down. She’s in a long pink dress and I hadn’t realized how petite she is, maybe a whole five feet at the most and a hundred pounds soaking wet. “Have you tasted our cookies before, dear?”
“I have not had the pleasure,” I say. “But I’m looking forward to it.”
“This is Aria, Jenny,” Kace introduces me. “She runs a rare collectibles business.”
Interest, genuine interest, lights her features. “Oh really. What kind of collectibles?”
“Pretty much anything you might want,” I say. “Wine. Books. Ancient objects.”
“You must see a lot of interesting pieces of history,” she comments. “I love history.”
“As do I,” I say, “which was a big part of what drew me to this business.”
“I’d love to chat about some of the things you’ve seen. You get Kace to bring you to the house one evening.”
Someone calls out, “Jenny! Jerry’s on the phone!”
She groans. “Can you find me a new husband? One with a better back?”
I laugh. “I think you should just give him some Advil and keep him.”
She scowls. “You are no help. Eat the cookies and take care of this one here.” She squeezes Kace’s shoulder. “He’s my boy.”
Warmth washes over Kace’s expression. He loves this woman and this tiny look into his life is unexpected in all kinds of ways. He’s a genius, a prodigal violinist, and yet he’s so down to earth, so human. So complicated. I sense that, too. There are many layers to this man, and I’m not sure he really invited me to see them at all. I just don’t know what this is between us. I’m not sure what I want to be happening between us.
Jenny hurries away and Kace opens the box of cookies. “Okay. Life is too short for you to never have had these cookies.” He displays the goodies. “How does the icing stack up?”
I grin. “Considering they are overflowing with icing, I approve.”
“Dig in, then,” he encourages.
I smile and find myself remarkably comfortable reaching for a big fat cookie, which is surprising considering I’m about to stuff my face in front of perhaps the most interesting man I’ve ever met. “I can’t wait.” I take a bite, and the soft, sweet, yummiest cookie I’ve ever had is an instant delight, while icing smears all over me. I laugh and he hands me a napkin, our fingers brushing with sizzling results, his expression warm now for me, too.
“Well?” he prods.