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“I’d guess that you drink milk.”
She frowned at him, and he smiled as though he’d gifted her with a compliment. She had a sneaking suspicion, though, that it had been backhanded.
She straightened her spine, annoyed at herself for letting Connor Smith get to her. Normally she’d be eagerly anticipating the performance. She’d attended the symphony countless times, but every time was a treat.
Music had been a major part of her life since her childhood when she’d found her grandmother’s violin and fallen in love hard and fast. Her cash-strapped mother, who was too sentimental to hock the instrument, couldn’t afford to get her private lessons.
So Abby had taught herself to play, filling the hours with music while her mother had worked two jobs and Drew had been off getting into mischief.
Abby’s love of music had turned out to be a godsend, getting her through her darkest days. There’d been a lot of them, none darker than when Drew had been accused of murder and subsequently convicted.
Abby supposed she should take the milk-drinker comment as a compliment, after all. Connor might not have issued it if he knew about her family.
“I like milk,” she said, hating the defensiveness that crept into her voice.
“And chaperones who arrive early.”
“Arriving fifteen minutes before the bus is scheduled to leave is not early. It’s on time.”
“You ever heard the one about time being money? Those fifteen minutes, which I spent getting a floor broker on the New York Stock Exchange to dump some shares, made my client a lot of it.”
“And yourself a healthy commission, I’m sure.”
He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s how I make my living.”
“Hey, you a stockbroker?” Mr. Greeley asked without taking his attention from the road.
“Sure am.”
“You any good?”
“Yes, I am,” he said.
She was prepared to erect another black mark against him for boasting but he didn’t sound like he was bragging. He sounded confident. Since she tried to instill that quality in her students every day, she couldn’t fault him for that.
“Maybe I can hire you to give me some financial advice,” Mr. Greeley said.
Abby waited for Connor to dissuade the bus driver of that notion. She’d seen his pricey office and doubted he catered to the common man.
“Be happy to,” he said instead. “Remind me to give you my business card later.”
He leaned back against the bus seat, looking completely relaxed. Abby felt herself vibrating with suppressed energy.
He tilted his head and gave her a lazy look. His eyes were hazel with little flecks of gold in the irises. He was clean shaven but she could tell he wouldn’t be for long, another hint of imperfection.
“I’m hoping you’re right about letting Jaye go on this field trip,” he said in a soft voice. “Because I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”
“It is a good idea,” Abby said with the same confidence she’d displayed earlier.
She swiveled her head and located Jaye in the back of the bus. Because of her blond hair, the child was easy to spot. She sat perfectly still, giving the impression that she was all alone even though she was surrounded by classmates. They laughed and sang and talked, but Jaye didn’t seem to be part of any group.
Abby turned back around. “She’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”
She’d barely finished her sentence when a shrill, childish voice rang out. “Row, row, row your bus, gently down the stream. Throw your driver overboard and listen to him scream.”
Abby whipped her head around to locate the culprit but already knew who she’d find. Jaye Smith’s mouth formed a perfect O as she sang at the top of her pretty little head.
CONNOR NEVER TOOK PLEASURE in saying “I told you so,” so he kept quiet.
It was hardly Abby Reed’s fault that he’d caved in to her pressure to sign that permission slip, not when Connor had suspected his niece would create some sort of scene.
He could have stood his ground. He damn well should have. But he hadn’t, so now the bus was pulling up in front of the Kennedy Center at barely ten minutes before the performance was to begin.
It had taken a good fifteen minutes to deal with Jaye’s outburst. When Jaye wouldn’t stop singing, Mr. Greeley had pulled the bus over to the side of the road. She’d quieted quickly then, but had resisted Abby Reed’s order to trade seats with a student at the front of the bus. Jaye had only complied when Connor had insisted, but then it was Connor who’d ended up in the other student’s seat with Jaye sitting next to Abby.
Now it was up to Connor to see that Jaye suffered the consequences of her actions. When the bus stopped, he’d call a taxi and instruct the driver to drive them home. A girl who erupted into spontaneous song on the bus couldn’t be trusted not to do so at the symphony.
He made sure he got off the bus before Jaye, then put a restraining hand on the girl’s arm so she couldn’t lose herself among the crowd headed for the Kennedy Center.
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady,” he said.
She directed a mutinous glare at him but held her ground while her classmates disembarked. Abby was at the back of the group, organizing the students into a cohesive pack and issuing orders about walking in an orderly manner.
“Miss Reed,” he called, “can I have a word?”
Her eyes widened. “Now? We don’t have much time. The performance is starting soon.”
“This won’t take long,” Connor said.
She hesitated, casting a glance over her shoulder at the impatient group. But then she nodded to a stern-faced chaperone Connor had overheard say she was retired military.
“Mrs. Bradford, would you see to it that the group gets to the Concert Hall?” Abby asked. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”
“I’ve got it,” Mrs. Bradford said before assuming her position at the front of the class and issuing orders for one of the other chaperones to bring up the rear.
The group hurried off. Abby Reed, her foot tapping and her body coiled for flight, obviously longed to join them. She gazed at him expectantly. “What is it?”
“I’m calling a cab and heading home with Jaye.”
Abby’s expression fell, but Jaye was the one who exclaimed. “No!”
He directed a hard look at the child. “After that outburst on the bus, Jaye, you don’t deserve to see the performance.”
Jaye’s chin lifted, and her expression turned mutinous. “See if I care. It’s just a stupid concert.”
“Then you won’t mind missing it.”
“Why would I? Who cares about the stupid violin anyway?”
“Then it’s settled.” Connor switched his gaze to Abby. Her brows and the corners of her mouth were turned downward in a classic expression of disapproval. But what else was new? She’d disapproved of him from the first.
“Excuse us for a minute, Jaye,” she said.
She took Connor’s upper arm in a surprisingly firm grip and led him away from the defiant child. It was the first time she’d touched him, causing his awareness of her to heighten. She looked lovely in a simple slim-fitting navy skirt topped with a dark pink sweater that complemented her dark hair and creamy complexion. But her eyes were flinty.
“Let me guess,” he said on a sigh. “You don’t agree with me.”
“Normally I would agree that you shouldn’t award that kind of behavior,” she whispered, meeting his gaze head on, “but I’m afraid Jaye will never pick up her violin again if you take her home.”
“She’ll learn a lesson.”
“At what cost? You already know she’s not headed in the right direction. Weren’t you listening to me in your office? The violin could save her.” Her voice grew impassioned, her eyes shone, her hand on his arm tightened. “Kids like Jaye need to care about something. When their troubles get too big, they need something to bring them out of the darkness into the light. Music can do that. It lifts the spirit with its beauty. It makes the world seem like a better place.”
He stared at her, this attractive, accomplished young woman who seemed so very sure of herself. When she’d made a similar speech in his office, he’d thought she was talking only about Jaye. But now he was certain there was more to what she was saying. She had layers, and one of them had peeled away as she made a case for Jaye.
“Is that what music did for you?” he whispered. “Gave you a refuge from your troubles?”
A shutter closed over her face. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Jaye.” She nodded toward his niece. “Punish her some other way,” she said in an urgent tone, “but don’t take the violin away from her.”
He glanced at Jaye. The girl’s small chin was still raised stubbornly, but she was blinking rapidly, as though fighting tears.
“If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the start of the performance.” Abby leveled him with another of her challenging looks. “Are you and Jaye coming?”
She expected him to say no. He could see the resignation in her eyes, as though she believed he couldn’t possibly understand that nurturing Jaye’s love of music could benefit her.
“Yeah, we’re coming,” he said, enjoying her look of surprise. In a louder voice, he called to Jaye, “C’mon, Jaye. We don’t want to miss the beginning of the concert.”
The child’s defiant expression lifted, replaced by hope. “Do you mean I can go?”
“As long as you understand this is the last place you’ll be going all week. You’re grounded, young lady. You also have to sit next to me and promise to behave yourself.”
She seemed about to protest, but then nodded. Walking past Connor, Jaye told her teacher, “Thanks, Miss Reed.”
Abby smiled, transforming her face from merely attractive to beautiful. Connor wondered if she’d ever smile at him that way.
“You’re welcome,” she said and took the girl’s hand. “But now we have to dash if we’re going to make it on time.”
Connor followed them into the Kennedy Center as they hurried down the red carpet of the Hall of Nations past the walls draped with the colorful flags of foreign countries en route to the Concert Hall.
Before Abby had pleaded for Jaye outside the Kennedy Center, he’d thought of the teacher mainly as a nuisance to bear. But something had changed in that instant when she’d pleaded his niece’s case and he’d gotten an inadvertent glimpse into her soul.
This was a complicated woman, with hidden depths that made her the most interesting person he’d met in a very long time. The passion she could interject into a simple sentence got his juices flowing the way no woman had for as long as he could remember.
Somewhere along the line, the annoyance she’d inspired had turned to attraction. Abby Reed was somebody he’d very much like to know better. A hell of a lot better.
“THAT WAS TOTALLY AWESOME. Wasn’t that totally awesome, Miss Reed?”
Jaye Smith didn’t try to contain her excitement as the bus barreled away from the Kennedy Center north on New Hampshire Avenue toward Silver Spring.
“Totally awesome,” Abby agreed. The only thing that had prevented Abby from completely sharing in her enthusiasm had been the feel of Connor Smith’s eyes on her throughout the performance.
She’d ensured he didn’t sit next to her by positioning him at the flank of the group of students. But every time she’d turned her head, she’d caught him looking at her.
She wasn’t sure why she noticed. He was exactly the kind of man who didn’t interest her. Even though she gravitated toward the world of music, she wasn’t drawn to the sophisticated, moneyed sort of male who inhabited that world. The men she’d dated in the past had been simpler, the sort who took her to a pizza place for dinner and ordered beer.
Despite his earlier attempt on the bus to portray himself to Mr. Greeley as the common man, Connor Smith seemed like he’d order champagne. Probably at a five-star restaurant. He’d given in and allowed Jaye to come to the concert, but she had a dozen other reasons to dislike him. The way he put his work before his daughter, for one. He’d left the performance at one point to take a call. The phone hadn’t rung, but she’d seen him remove the slim device from the pocket of his suit jacket and check a number.
She turned her head. Connor was sitting two rows behind the seat she shared with Jaye on the opposite side of the aisle. Their eyes locked, and she quickly broke the contact.
“I’ll never be able to play like that.”
She transferred her full attention to the girl, dismayed at how quickly the excitement had leeched from her voice. “Why would you say that, Jaye?”
“Didn’t you hear them? They were totally awesome.”
“If you want it bad enough, you could be awesome, too.”
The eyes that raised to hers looked hopeful. “You really think so?”
“I really think so. But you’d have to put your mind to it and practice hard.”
The hope disappeared from Jaye’s face in another lightning-quick change of moods. “I’m not allowed to practice.”
“Oh, I can’t believe that,” Abby said. “I’ve never heard of a parent who didn’t encourage their child to practice.”
“Mine doesn’t.” Jaye’s mouth set in an obstinate line. “And he was really mad about me singing on the bus. He says he’s going to punish me. He’ll probably take away my violin.”
“He won’t do that, Jaye.”
“How do you know?”
Abby hesitated. “I’ve talked to him. He seems like a reasonable man.”
“He locks me in my room without supper,” she announced. “And he makes me go to sleep at seven o’clock.”
Jaye’s pronouncements reeked of exaggeration, however tempted Abby was to believe the worst of Connor Smith. By the same token, Abby could tell that father and daughter were not as close as they should be. That was evident in the rebellious slant of Jaye’s mouth.
She tried to put herself in Jaye’s position. After all, she’d grown up without a parent, too. But in Abby’s case, that parent had been her father and he’d been absent by choice. It was far worse to be forced to deal with the death of a mother. Especially at Jaye’s young age.
She was no guidance counselor, but she longed to help the girl. She couldn’t do that without more information. All Jaye had told her so far was that her mother had succumbed to cancer. “How long has your mother been gone?”
Jaye sniffed. “About a month.”
Abby bit her lip. She’d known the loss had been recent but hadn’t realized how recent. “How long had it been before then that you’d seen your father?”
“A long time,” Jaye said. “Years.”
“One or two years?” Abby pressed.
