An Unexpected Song Read Free

immediately felt threatened. He was as far from the stereotype of a sensitive musician as one could imagine. Not only was he dark while Eric was blond, Jason stood well over six feet and was as powerfully built as a prizefighter. His skin was tanned to a shade close to bronze, and his features were not conventionally good-looking. His cheekbones were too broad, his brows a black slash over piercing blue-green eyes, his well-shaped mouth too sensual. Othello, she thoughtsuddenly, and then smiled in amusement at the whimsy. He was probably nothing like Shakespeare’s brooding, possessive warrior. “I meant no insult,” she said gently. “I love your music.”
    “And I love your voice.” His sudden smile lit his dark face with warmth, and the air of grimness vanished. “I want it—and I mean to have it.”
    “I explained to your brother that I can’t possibly do—”
    “What do you want?” he asked bluntly. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
    She wanted to star in his play and sing his songs but he couldn’t give it to her. “It’s not possible.”
    “Why not?”
    “Personal reasons.”
    His gaze narrowed on her face. “A lover?”
    She sensed a sudden tension in him that bewildered her. “I’d rather not discuss it.”
    “You intend to waste an opportunity like this for an affair?” he asked harshly.
    “I didn’t say—” She broke off and said quietly, “People are more important than careers. Love is more important.”
    “So saccharine, Ms. Justine. You can’t be—” He stopped, studying her face. “I’ll be damned. You mean it.”
    She nodded. “Of course I mean it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
    “How rare.”
    A luminous smile lit her face. “Perhaps in New York, not here.”
    “I’d wager it’s just as rare on this side of the Atlantic.” He smiled curiously. “I believe I’ll have to investigate the phenomenon.”
    “I wouldn’t bother. It would be a waste of yourtalent. You’d do better to concentrate on your wonderful music. I’m sorry, but I really can’t work with you, Mr. Hayes, and I—”
    “Jason.”
    She ignored the interruption and started to turn away. “As I told your brother, the question isn’t open to negot—” She broke off as his hand grasped her wrist.
    Electricity. Heat. Vibrant magnetism.
    She looked up, startled, and saw an expression of shock on his face that must have reflected her own. She felt curiously breathless and was suddenly conscious of how close he was, the heat his big body was emitting, the scent of soap and lime aftershave lotion.
    His hand released its grip on her wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you.” His tone was suddenly fierce. “But you were running away from me, dammit.”
    She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. “Because I assumed our discussion was over. You made an offer and I refused.”
    “It’s not over. It’s only just begun.” He took a step back and obviously tried to temper the fierceness in his voice. “Let me take you out to dinner and we’ll talk some more.”
    She shook her head. “It would be futile. I won’t change my mind.”
    He gazed at her a moment, his blue-green eyes fixed intently on her face. Then he smiled again, not mockingly or cynically but warmly. “Then I suppose I’ll have to change it for you. I won’t give you up.”
    The phrasing was strangely possessive, and she again experienced a great surge of wariness. “You can’t give up what you don’t have.”
    “A slip of the tongue.” His eyes twinkled. “Naturally, I meant I won’t give up my Desdemona.”
    “Naturally.” She relaxed. Of course that was what he meant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go home and get to bed. I live outside Geneva, and it’s a long drive.”
    “I’ll take you.”
    “No,” she said firmly.
    His smile remained in place, but she was conscious of a subtle tensing of his muscles. “I’m not giving up. You were born to sing Desdemona.”
    She said