Sweet Trilogy: Sweet Talk / Sweet Spot / Sweet Trouble. Сьюзен Мэллери

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      “I really appreciate you looking after her.”

      “I’m happy to do it. She’s a lot of fun and very patient with my signing.”

      “She’s happy you want to learn.”

      Claire frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s how she communicates.”

      “A lot of people won’t take the trouble.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t know.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and looked at her. “We never discussed me paying you for your time. We should.”

      “I don’t want to be paid,” she told him. “I don’t want to talk about money.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “We’re family. Sort of.”

      He nodded. “Almost related until Nicole heals enough to get a divorce lawyer. I can’t believe how Drew screwed that up.”

      She couldn’t, either. Who did that kind of thing? She remembered her attack. “Is he okay? Is there still a puncture in his face?”

      “Do you care?”

      She considered the question. “Not really.”

      Wyatt grinned. “Now you sound like your sister.”

      “She’s rubbing off on me.” Which might be a good thing, Claire thought. Nicole wouldn’t have let Lisa push her around. Nicole would have told her exactly what she could do with her stupid, demanding schedule and then she would have walked.

      “You’re looking fierce about something,” Wyatt said. “What are you thinking about?”

      “My manager. I’m wishing I was more like Nicole so I could tell her off.”

      “Is that what you want to do?”

      “Sometimes. Right now I’m avoiding her calls. Not the best way to handle the situation.”

      He led the way into the kitchen. The room was large and bright, like most of the others in the house.

      The cabinets looked relatively new. There were granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

      Impressive, she thought, remembering he knew how to cook. Talk about the perfect man. Except, if he was so perfect, why wasn’t he married or at least with someone. Was he with someone?

      “Want something to drink?” he asked.

      “Anything diet.”

      He looked at her. “Do I look like a guy who drinks diet?”

      The tingles were back. “Not really.”

      “Good. But I keep some around for Nicole.” He got a soda out of the refrigerator, collected a glass, filled it with ice and set it in front of her. “So why don’t you tell her off yourself?”

      “Lisa? I don’t know. I never have. I should. It’s different now. I’m not a kid anymore.” The problem was that she still felt like a kid. As if she had to ask for permission.

      “Is she why you’re not playing?” he asked.

      She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

      “You’re not playing the piano,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be? Isn’t that what you do?”

      Not anymore, she thought sadly, remembering the previous evening when she’d managed to lose herself in music. She’d played for hours, until she was trembling with exhaustion and soaked with sweat. She’d played and played, wanting the music to heal everything. Unfortunately the complications in her life were such that playing was only a distraction, albeit a satisfying one.

      “I don’t have any current tour dates,” she said. “It’s close to summer. The season winds down during the late spring. Everything starts back up in the fall.”

      Wyatt pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and took the chair across from hers. “You didn’t cancel anything to look after Nicole?”

      “No. Would it have been better if I had?”

      “I don’t know. We were talking about it last night. I dropped by to check on her.”

      He’d been at the house? Claire fought a sense of loss for having missed the visit.

      “I would have canceled dates to be here,” she said. “Not that Nicole would believe that.”

      “She can be tough.”

      “Is that what we’re calling it?”

      He smiled. “You’re more alike than either of you realize.”

      Because they were twins. There was a connection. At least there had been.

      “How does it work?” he asked. “Do you just play out of New York? Are you with an orchestra? I don’t know anything about what you do.”

      It was a simple question that might have been brought on by casual interest. Nothing more. Yet she felt both flustered and pressured.

      “I, um, usually book for individual nights. I can do a series in a city, as well. I’ve played with different orchestras in the past. For a season or part of a season. But I—” Her chest tightened and not because Wyatt was so good-looking. “I’m not playing anymore. I can’t.”

      “You’re a little young to retire.”

      “I haven’t retired. I just…” She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to be ashamed of her. Yet she couldn’t seem to hold in the words. “I can’t play. I have panic attacks.”

      He looked at her as if he didn’t understand the words.

      “They started last year,” she said in a rush. “I was so tired. I wanted a break and I was looking forward to doing nothing for a few weeks. But Lisa wanted to book me on a special summer tour. I got upset and sort of faked a panic attack. She totally backed off. I know it was wrong. I know the mature thing to do was tell her the truth, right? I’m an adult. It’s my life, but it’s just not that easy.”

      She grasped the glass in both hands and stared at the contents. It was better than looking at him.

      “I faked a couple more attacks, just to get her off my back. But then one day an attack happened on its own and I couldn’t control it. I guess I’d gotten so good at faking them that they became real. They got worse and worse and now they control me. I barely got through the final week of my schedule and I collapsed at my last performance.”

      She ducked her head as shame rushed through her. She felt the heat on her cheeks. As much as she tried to forget what had happened, she relived the experience over and over again.

      “I’m so ashamed. I don’t СКАЧАТЬ