Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

“That was beautiful,” Lori said. “You really do have a gift,” she said to Geoffrey.

He ducked his hand in modesty. “Thank you. Another?”

“Yes, yes,” Virginia said, clapping her hands. “More. More. You’ve already earned back every bite we’ve fed you.”

“In that case,” Geoffrey said and began another song. He played for thirty minutes, and although Lori knew the listeners could continue, she didn’t want to take advantage of Geoffrey.

“We’d probably better stop now if we ever expect to talk Geoffrey into playing for us again,” Lori said, rising. “I should get some pie for him.”

“I already got his pie,” Maria said, following Lori to her feet.

“Good,” Lori said. “Do you want some tea with it?”

“I can get his tea,” Maria retorted.

Taken aback by the woman’s response, Lori shrugged. “Fine, thank you.” She glanced at Geoffrey. “You want to go for a walk after you have your dessert?”

His gaze slid toward Maria, then back to Lori. He paused an extra beat, and she wondered what was going on.

Jackson cleared his throat. “Lori, let’s check on the horses.”

She sighed. “Okay, but I’ll be back soon,” she said to Geoffrey, who still looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“I’ll take the dishes downstairs,” Virginia insisted, shooing Lori away. “And Geoffrey, thank you for the beautiful concert.”

Lori followed Jackson downstairs and out the front door into the dark night. The way his wide shoulders narrowed to his hips in a perfect V shape drew her gaze. Nothing feminine about this man. Nothing even metrosexual. She wished he didn’t capture her attention so easily. She wished she didn’t care what he thought of her or how he felt about her.

Thoroughly distracted, she caught her foot on a tree root and went sprawling forward against his back. She automatically flung her arms around him.

“What the-” He covered her arms with his hands and whipped around, drawing her against him.

“Sorry,” she said, breathless from the fall, not from her proximity to him, not from the intensity of his gaze on her, and not from the sensation of being in his arms. “I tripped.”

His gaze wrapped around hers for a long moment, and her heart beat ten times before she remembered to pull away. Pushing against him, she stumbled backward.

“Okay,” he said, glancing behind her. “I guess we’re far enough away. What’s your game with the duke?”

She blinked. “Game? There’s no game. It’s all out in the open. His family needs money. I need a husband. He has asked me to marry him.” She paused and added, “Again.”

He narrowed his eyes. “When did that happen?”

“This morning,” she said.

He gave a whistle and shook his head. “I knew you were fickle, but this takes the cake. You propose to me one night, and less than two days later-”

“I didn’t propose,” she interjected. “I said we should get married. It wasn’t as if I got down on one knee and begged you.” Every muscle in her body stiffened. “If you thought I would beg you, then you’re wrong.”

“But you couldn’t give me fifteen minutes to consider it.”

“You took more than fifteen minutes, and you haven’t exactly been banging down my door to get to me since we had the discussion.”

“Was I supposed to bang down your door? Was that what you wanted?”

She bit her lip at the raw sexuality in his gaze. “I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is that you haven’t overwhelmed me with your eagerness.”

“I didn’t know that was part of the job description,” he said, moving toward her.

“It wasn’t,” she said, her nerves jumping. She shook her head, flustered. “I just got the impression you weren’t interested.”

“So you moved on to the next guy,” he said. “Is this what our marriage will be like? If I don’t give you the answer you like whenever you want it, however you want it, then you’ll move on to the next man?”

Lori’s heart stopped. Is this what our marriage will be like? That sounded as if Jackson was actually considering marrying her. She stared at him, terrified, thrilled.

“Well?”

Lori opened her mouth and moved it, but no sound came out. She closed it for a moment to gather her thoughts. “No,” she said and cleared her throat. “If you and I get married, I won’t be moving on to the next man if I don’t like what you say.” She paused a half beat. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have mentioned the idea in the first place, because it’s not as if I’ve liked every word that has come out of your mouth.”

He stepped closer. “Then why me, Lori? Your duke would probably go along with everything you want. He would never argue with you. You know we will.”

“Well, you wouldn’t prevent my access to the money.”

“No, but I would do my damnedest to persuade you not to donate your entire inheritance to Designer Duds for Dogs charity.”

“I have to agree that there are more worthy causes.”

“Why me?”

Lori’s heart squeezed tight in her chest. Why him? Because she felt things for him. Things she’d never felt before. But she didn’t want to tell him that. “I told you. I trust you.”

He stood silently, towering over her for what felt like an eternity. “Okay. I’m in.”

Lori felt light-headed. The bones in her knees seemed to melt. Her pulse pounded in her head. Oh. My. God. He’d said yes.

His eyes widening in alarm, he swore as he reached out to her. “You’re white as a ghost. You look like you’re going to faint.”

She clung to him and took baby sips of air. “I’ll be okay,” she said in a voice that sounded wispy to her own ears.

“Did I scare you?”

She gulped over the lump in her throat. “No. I’m just surprised. Very surprised.”

“You sure you’re not having second thoughts?” he asked, studying her.

Try tenth or twelfth thoughts, she thought. “Oh, no,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “I asked you. Remember.”

“Yes, but-”

Her mind going a million miles a minute, she moved her head in a circle. “Vegas,” she said. “Let’s go to Vegas.”

“Vegas,” he repeated, blinking.

She nodded. “Vegas. Tomorrow night.”

He swore again. “Tomorrow night? Why so soon?”

So she wouldn’t chicken out, she thought. “If you’re sure and I’m sure, there’s no need to wait. Is there?”

He met her gaze, and she saw the second he decided to accept her challenge. “No. There isn’t.”

Maria slammed the teapot down on the tray so hard Geoffrey was surprised it didn’t break. She looked at him with eyes so fiery he briefly wondered if she had some kind of superpower that would make his internal organs explode if he looked at her too long. Ridiculous, he thought, but he still looked away.

“How much sugar do you want?” she asked.

He glanced at her and, rising, shook his head. “Thank you. I can do it myself.”

“No,” she said, the spoon poised above a tiny sugar bowl.

Geoffrey assessed the situation, thankful there were no knives within Maria’s reach. “Two, thank you.”

She stabbed the spoon into the sugar and dumped two heaping spoonfuls into the cup. “Cream?”

“Please,” he said.

She dumped a generous amount of cream into the cup and banged the spoon in a circular motion. “Here,” she said, shoving the cup and saucer into his hands.

Geoffrey nearly spilled the liquid all over himself, but he managed to confine the splatter to the saucer. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

She crossed her arms over her generous breasts and stared at him. “Well?” she said expectantly.

He paused a half beat. “Well, what?”

“The tea,” she said, nodding toward the cup. “Did I make it right?”

He glanced down at the steaming cup. “I’m sure you did.”

“Taste it.”

It was still too hot, but heaven help him if he tried to tell her that. Gingerly lifting the cup to his lips, he took a small sip of the too-sweet, too-weak tea. “Perfect,” he lied with a smile. “Perfect.”

Her glare softened a smidgen, and she pushed a strand of her bangs behind her ear. “Good.” She glanced away, dropped one of her hands to her hip, then lifted her arms again to cross her chest. “I don’t suppose Lori has made tea for you.”

He blinked at the odd question and chuckled. “Not at all. I’m not sure she knows how.”

Maria lifted her chin, and her lips lifted the slightest bit into an almost smile. “She can’t cook, either.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t,” he agreed. “After all, she has staff for that.”

Her face fell again. “I’m not wealthy,” she said. “So I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

When she turned to walk away, he felt an overwhelming sense of panic. “You would be wrong,” he said, the words bubbling up from somewhere inside him. Somewhere that wouldn’t be denied.

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob, and he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a breath and released it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began, then broke off, utterly conflicted. “Please come back. Just for a few moments.” Setting down his cup of tea, he returned to the piano and began to play the melody that had burned its way into his brain and heart over the last couple of days. He hadn’t needed to write down the notes, because he couldn’t escape the song. It followed him everywhere all the time, even when he slept. The music brimmed with passion and hints of sadness, strength, and vulnerability.

He stopped when the notes and chords in his mind stopped, although he knew it wasn’t the end of the piece.

Silence clung to the air like humidity just before a summer rain. The only sound he could hear was his heart beating inside his head.

“Finish it,” Maria finally whispered, walking toward him. “It’s beautiful. Finish it. I want to hear the rest.”