“It’s…comforting.”
She regards me for a moment, then nods. “Sure.”
This is the second time I’m listening to it within a few minutes, and I wonder if the second time is going to be as good as the first. It usually isn’t.
Her fingers start moving. The rapid notes flow like the gentle murmuring of a clear stream in spring, and the second time is actually better, like the previous one was just a warmup.
When she’s finished, I murmur, “Perfect. Absolutely brilliant.”
Her cheeks flush, pleasure shining in her eyes. She leans a little closer, then squints at me. Maybe she’s recognized who I am.
I want to ask her her name and if she has an interest in making some recordings. I’ll pay all the expenses.
Better yet, she can play it once more now, and I’ll record it with my phone.
But before I can make the suggestion, an airport-wide announcement calling for some flight comes over the speaker system. She jerks, looks up, then checks her phone.
“That’s my flight,” she says, and steps down from the stage.
Fuck, no, no, no.
“Wait,” I say as the announcement continues in English. I catch something about Los Angeles, and I place my hand on her elbow. “Are you going to L.A.?”
“Yes. Are you on my flight?”
“No. I’m on the next one.” Mine better be the next flight. “Here.” On sheer impulse, I pull out my card and hand it to her. “I live in the city, so call me if you want to hang out or…whatever.”
She takes the card, but doesn’t look at it. “But why? You don’t know me.”
“Any woman who can play Schubert like that is worth getting to know.”
She smiles. Her entire demeanor changes from prim and slightly standoffish to warm and friendly. It reminds me of the happy feeling you get when the sky’s cloudless and the breeze is just cool enough to be refreshing.
“Okay.” She puts the card in her purse. “Gotta go. Don’t be shocked if I really do call you.” She waves as she starts walking off.
“I’ll try not to faint,” I murmur. I’m never shocked when women call. It always happens within twenty-four hours, like they’re afraid if they make me wait too long I might lose interest. No reason this pianist will be any different.
As she vanishes into the crowd, I realize I didn’t get her name. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll have it soon enough.
Chapter Four
Yuna
I walk rapidly down the corridor to my gate, even though I don’t have to hurry to make my flight. The call was for pre-boarding, to help anyone who needs special assistance, as well as premium cabin flyers. They’ll be loading passengers for at least the next fifteen minutes.
But the need to put some distance between me and that man is so overwhelming that I’m acting like the airline just announced, “If you aren’t on the plane in the next two seconds, you aren’t going anywhere. Buh-bye!”
And no, I’m not reacting like this because he acted creepily. The problem is actually—
He looked at me with the most mesmerizing eyes I’ve ever seen. It isn’t that I’ve never seen gray eyes. Americans occasionally have them, and I’ve spent a lot of time in America. But I’ve never seen such a gorgeous shade. It reminds me of the full moon reflected on a deep, dark pool. His lashes are thicker and longer than mine. And upswept, like he used a curler and mascara in the morning, although I know he didn’t.
The sunlight pouring through the glass panels encasing the concourse accentuated his high cheekbones and the bold slant of his inky eyebrows. His lips were almost too full for a man. If it weren’t for the firm line his mouth was set in, I might even say it looked slightly vulnerable—the kind of mouth you want to kiss so he knows he’s not alone.
I couldn’t seem to break eye contact. It was as though his gaze was commanding my attention. All my nerve endings prickled like a current was running through me. My fingertips tingled against the piano keys, and I wished I had some water to wet my mouth.
How embarrassing.
Now I feel hot. I’ve been acting ridiculous because I saw a truly panty-melting face for the first time in my life, in person. Shallow, maybe, but I appreciate gorgeous men, and that one tops my