No Strings Attached Read Free

the box?
    “My sound studio,” Thayre said, walking toward it.
    I studied the various stringed instruments behind the glass. “You weren't kidding about playing most of them, were you? This must've cost a fortune.”
    “A small one, maybe. I suppose I could've rented them and taken lessons, but I'm more of a play by ear and at my own pace kind of a guy.”
    It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did anyway. Thayre had an amazing ear for music. In fact, the few times I'd gotten stuck on my own melodies, he'd helped me figure out if a scale was wrong or if I was missing a few beats. I never expected it to carry on well into his adult life. In our mid-thirties and, looking at him now, it was almost as if nothing had changed at all.
    “Want to go inside?”
    “You...you’d let me?” My attention settled on the violin closest to us. And suddenly, all I wanted to do was play. To put bow to strings, close my eyes, and let whatever happened happen. I hadn’t realized how much I missed holding my old violin until Thayre had offered me the chance to play his own. “But, it’s your baby.”
    It was the truth. For as long as I could remember, he was as protective of his violin as a mother was of her child. He didn’t even leave it at the lunch table with friends while he went to get something out of the café. The damn thing went everywhere with him, and now he was offering—no, asking me to play it?
    He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, and my God, if his arms were as toned as his shirt made me believe—
    “Moyra?”
    I shook myself aware. You’re here as a guest, remember? Not that I needed another man in my life anyway, but the thought was tempting. “Hmm?”
    “I was asking if you wanted to gawk at it all night, or if you’d like to go inside?”
    I managed a nod and stepped closer to the glass.
    Thayre opened the door and gestured for me to go inside. I'd been in a sound studio once before, but it was never like this. Along the far wall was a set of monitors, keyboards, and two soundboards.
    I glanced at him, confused. “Okay, I get the keyboards and everything else, but what's with the major sound system?”
    “You really have been out of the loop, haven't you?” He released an exaggerated sigh. “Long story short, I decided to cut out the middleman and produce the albums myself. It's helped pay for most of this, so I must be doing something right.”
    I ran my hand over the neck of a cello, stopping mid-sweep from his most recent statement. “You're probably right. Problem is, music hasn't been in my life very much since I got out of school.”
    “But you do remember how to play.” It wasn't a question.
    “Just like riding a bike, right?”
    “We can hope so.” He pointed at the stool in the middle of the room. “Why not have a seat so we can get you set up.”
    Doing my best to ignore the nerves coiled in the pit of my stomach, I took a seat. Having Thayre so close to me made it hard to concentrate on the notes in front of me instead of his near-silent breath. The dark ink on white paper blurred, and I worked on removing the bit of dirt from under my fingernail.
    Surrounded by instruments and walls of glass, I was, in all intents and purposes, at the very center of Thayre's world. I didn't have to look at him to see if he was watching me. He'd been extremely attentive when I played so many years ago, I could imagine his vision drifting from my face to my hands and back again.
    Come on, Moyra, concentrate. You've played the violin thousands of times before. This should be cake. Yeah. Tell that to my hands or the hairs standing along the nape of my neck.
    Thayre reached in front of me to grab the violin from its case, attached it to a cord, then handed the instrument to me before stepping to the back of the room. Out of site, but certainly not out of mind. Far from it.
    For a moment, all I could do was breathe, feel the strings and soft wood under my fingertips and try not to freak out