Bad Keys by JB Curry

Author:JB Curry [Curry, J.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie Author Project

24

Esmeralda lingered over saying goodbye to Raj, so she was late getting home. The daylight was burning out of the sky by the time she wheeled the Mini into the carport.

She sprinted into the house, up to her room, and through her shower. She slapped on some smoky eye makeup, styled her hair in loose curls over her shoulders, and hustled into a sleeveless blue silk dress. There. Done. Slightly winded, she checked out the mirror, pronounced herself in decent enough shape for cocktails, and stepped through her door.

She heard the distant racket of the caterers setting up in the kitchen, the hum of Spanish voices, and above it all, a ripple of music floating lazy and sweet on the air. Not her father’s romantic singers, but piano music. She followed the thread of sound down the stairs and through the hall to the big back room where she found the piano, and Luke.

The last golden light of the day flooded through the glass to illuminate the strong, clean lines of his profile as he bent over the keys. It scattered and tangled over his fingers as they moved, weaving the rays into the notes.

Esmeralda knew passion when she saw it. She could see it in Luke, in the set of his shoulders as he leaned into the instrument and the mastery in every move of his fingers over the keys. And on his face was that fiery little smile.

She drifted closer to him, netted and reeled in.

Her movement must have caught his eye, because he looked up and saw her. The music crashed to a stop mid-note. He went frozen and wide-eyed for a second, a deer in the headlights deal. Then he scraped back the bench and stood. “Hi,” he said, his voice a little rough.

His studliness was on excellent display tonight in gray slacks and a blue sport coat, the fine cloth molding over the amazing width of his shoulders and skimming his narrow waist and hips. The clothes looked hand tailored, which was probably a necessity for a guy his size. He was daringly tieless this evening, his collar button undone.

She smiled to herself and walked over to him, putting a little slink in her step, ’cause she was bad like that. “Hi, Luke. You look …” Yummy. “ … very nice.”

He ran a hand down the front of his coat, a blush running over his hard cheekbones. “Thanks.”

Silence. His eyes were locked on hers like blue-gray lasers.

“This is where you say I look very nice too.”

He shook his head. “You know that wouldn’t be accurate.”

“I don’t look good?”

“Like I told you yesterday, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” And once again his voice held a hint of exasperation that he had to restate a well-known fact.

And now she was the one blushing. Time to laugh lightly and change the subject. She reached out to touch the smooth curve of the piano lid. “What’s that you were playing? It sounded really, ah, sweet.”

“It’s called ‘Noche Azul’.

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