An Irresistible Temptation (27 page)

“I think I know what it’s like to play a fine
instrument,” he said.

“Riley, stop teasing me.” She closed her eyes
as he plucked her nipple with his teeth.

“I’m not. I’m just learning what you like.”
One of his hands roamed down her naked torso to stroke her hip,
then teasingly drifted over her mound and stayed there. She arched
against him.

“You know exactly . . .,” she panted,
grabbing at his shoulders, “exactly what you’re doing. You’re
nearly a doctor.”

She felt him halt. Every movement stopped,
including his breathing. Then he moved his lips to her other nipple
and kissed her. But she writhed under him. He was still partially
clothed and she needed him to settle between her legs, wanting to
do again what they’d done in her hotel room.

“Riley, are you going to finish
undressing?”

He didn’t answer at first. He raised his
head, his glittering eyes looking deeply into her own. Then he
kissed her lips again before he lifted himself off her inflamed
skin.

“I don’t have any contraception,” he said,
not meeting her gaze, and to her amazement, he grabbed the blanket
that was folded at the bottom of her bed and tossed it over her
naked, flushed body.

Closing her eyes, she nearly cried in
frustration. When she opened them, he was sitting up, watching her
pensively. She wanted to feel Riley, all of him, inside her, to
experience the
glissando
of one passionate movement sliding
almost unnoticeably into the next, until they reached the final
harmony when their bodies climaxed. Why, she could practically play
it for him on a piano.
Contraception be damned!
She gave
him, the man she loved, her most welcoming smile.

“I’d best be leaving.” He jumped up.

What?
Her pulse was racing and she was
trembling with expectation, but he was already gathering his
clothes.

“Riley,” she tried to call him back, hating
the desperate sound of her voice.

“I have to let you go,” he said, draping his
tie haphazardly around his bare neck before slipping on his shirt.
“I mean, let you get ready.”

She rose up on her knees in the middle of the
bed, holding the blanket against her bare breasts. At first, he
didn’t look at her, but when he did, his eyes were sad again,
though his tone, when he spoke, sounded angry—at what, or whom, she
didn’t know.

“I’m sorry, Sophie,” he ground out. Her eyes
widened in confusion. “But I know you need time to prepare for
tonight.”

She wanted him to stay, nearly begged him to,
so filled with longing as she was, except she knew it would be
useless. He looked like a man who’d made up his mind to leave. She
would let him go—for clearly, something was troubling him and being
with her was only making it worse.

He finished dressing in silence, slipping his
feet into his shoes and shrugging his shoulders into his coat.
Grabbing her dressing gown from the chair beside the bed, she
wrapped it around her as he headed for the door, moving as though
his heels were on fire.

She followed him out of her bedroom, feeling
wholly disappointed and already missing him. At the front door, he
turned and took her in his arms.

“Will you do one thing for me?”

His manner filled her with trepidation, but
she answered unhesitatingly, “Yes. Anything.”

“Tonight, when you play, will you play only
for me? The way you did in Spring City?”

She stroked his cheek, searching his earnest
brown eyes for answers. “Yes, of course.” She crossed her hands
behind his neck again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He didn’t answer at once. “I’ll be in the
front row,” he said at last, before he kissed her again, taking
care to ravage her mouth like a desperate man going to war. Then,
while her knees were trembling from his kiss, he slipped out of her
arms and out of her apartment.

Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that, in a
short span, something had shifted and was now dreadfully wrong. In
a piece of music, she considered it deceptive cadence—one minute
everything was going perfectly and she had been assured of the
ending. And the next, nothing seemed right.

True to his word, however, Riley was in the
same seat owned by Mr. Shepherd in the front row when the house
lights came on for the musician’s introductions that night. And
right before the lights went down after intermission, he waved to
her. However, when the performance was over, he was gone.

“Riley,” she called out, knocking on his
front door. At first, she chalked up his disappearance from the
concert hall to his being called away for another ill patron or
staff member during the performance. However, when he didn’t
contact her by Monday morning, she located his rooming house by the
hospital.

Her knock was answered with silence.

Next, Sophie went to the City-County Hospital
and asked at reception if he was in the building. He was, but he
was doing rounds. She was told she could wait, and she did—over an
hour—all the while getting more agitated and annoyed until, when
she eventually saw him, she was ready to spit nails. Rather than
the concern she initially felt and meant to convey, she knew she
seemed like an angry wet hen:

“How dare you run off and not contact
me?”

Instead of looking apologetic, his expression
proclaimed him unapproachable.

“I couldn’t stay.” His tone was clipped, even
angry although she couldn’t imagine what the cause was. He didn’t
explain why he couldn’t remain at the concert hall until the end of
the performance, and before she could ask, he continued, “And
today, as you know, I have rounds.”

She was not mollified. She had played just
for him, as he’d requested, and apparently he hadn’t even noticed.
But she took a deep breath—she didn’t want to sound like a
harridan.

“When are you finished?” She thought that
whatever was bothering him, they could discuss it over dinner.

He shook his head and raised his hand as if
warding her off. “Late. And I have to study. Tomorrow, too,” he
added.

“All right, then,” she said, taking a step
backward, away from his coldness. “I’ll see you when . . . when
you’re free.” She turned on her heel and got halfway across the
lobby. Something was wrong, obviously, but she had no idea how to
make him tell her.

“Sophie,” he called after her.

She halted and turned.

“You played beautifully. I . . . I thank
you.”

She gave him a small smile, which he didn’t
return.

“I have to go.” He disappeared back down the
hallway so swiftly she was left looking after empty space.

“What the hell?” she muttered and retraced
her steps home, feeling more confused than when she’d arrived.

*****

Riley knew he was behaving atrociously. He
couldn’t even watch Sophie leave the hospital. He had to start
walking in the other direction, or he would have gone after her and
thrown himself at her feet. He distracted himself for the rest of
the day on rounds, but that night, he gave up his futile attempts
at studying to take a walk, a long walk.

From the moment he fled her apartment, on the
verge of making love to her, he’d decided on a plan. He would make
her hate him. It was a terrible plan, but one he was sure would be
effective. And it would be easy to do, if the look on Sophie’s face
had been any indication. He had only to act as boorishly as
possible and hurt the woman he loved more than anyone in the world.
He could tell he was already accomplishing that, and it left him
both irritable and depressed.

With luck, his plan would mean minimal
contact with her, which was vital to his sanity and to sustaining
his determination to let her go. For the first time in a long time,
he headed to the corner bar and sat down for a drink.

*****

“Get on with you,” Carling said, setting down
her tea cup. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“He was behaving very queerly,” Sophie
agreed. “And I have no idea why.”

“The stress of his board exams,” Carling
offered. “Becoming a doctor can’t be easy.”

“True, but I’ve seen him in a crisis,” Sophie
said, thinking of the train accident in Spring City. “He is
completely confident in his abilities. I have no doubt he’ll make
an outstanding doctor.”

“Give him a little time, then,” Carling
suggested, pouring more tea and adding milk. “I saw how he looked
at you at dinner. He’s a goner for you.”

Sophie had thought so, too, but in her heart,
she knew something had changed.

This was confirmed when Riley had not
contacted her by week’s end. The symphony started rehearsals for
the next series of concerts, and Sophie threw herself into them
heart and soul.

“You are positively driven, my girl,” Henry
said after she played through Brahms
Piano Concerto No. 1
.
He had halted the rest of the musicians when Walter’s piccolo
cracked from being left on a radiator and then Seifert missed his
queue.

Looking around, she realized what had
happened. They were all staring at her.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, but knew she was
going to cry. “I’ll be right . . . back.” She fled the stage for
the ladies’ dressing room. A few moments later, Arthur came looking
for her; she wiped her tears hastily and opened the door.

“Are you all right?” he asked, an awkward
look on his face.

She was red with embarrassment. “I am. I just
feel so stupid. To keep playing, making you all wait for me. And to
ignore Henry’s signal to stop. I’m mortified.”

“No one minds, Sophie. You really are our
star pianist and if we get to sit back and listen once in a while,
that’s fine. Henry sent me, by the way. He didn’t think it would
look right for him to leave the stage.”

“He is correct, as usual.” No one minded,
Arthur had said. Was that true?

“Let’s have a little break, Sophie girl, and
then we’ll be ready to catch up to you.” He gave her a reassuring
look and she watched him go. How sweet of him to say that
they
needed the break, not her.

Taking a sip of water, she paced the room.
She needed to focus on what she was doing and merely stop her mind
from wandering to Riley. Yes, merely that! But it seemed as though,
in the space of a week, the piano had ceased feeling like home and
had become her personal battleground. Instead of getting lost in a
song, she wanted to conquer it. And all the while she played, she
longed for Riley’s smile and Riley’s warmth. If she couldn’t soothe
herself with her music, then what was left to her?

Sophie did her finger exercises as she walked
back onstage. The rest of the orchestra clapped. She hesitated then
walked to the front of the stage beside Henry, and put her hands on
her hips. So, they were teasing her now—applauding a performance
she shouldn’t have made. But it was as though her family were
playfully ribbing her, so she bowed low and solemnly. Then Otto
whistled loudly and they all laughed. She took her seat back behind
her instrument.

Thank God she had the symphony players or she
would truly be bereft.

On Saturday afternoon, Carling got off work
and convinced Sophie to wander along Market Street for some
shopping. They each had a bit of money and spent an enjoyable few
hours trying on shoes and hats.

“You can never have too many hats,” Sophie
said.

Carling slapped a blue felt hat on her head
and admired herself in the looking glass. She sighed and took it
off. “I haven’t asked, but any word from one Mr. Dalcourt?”

Sophie shook her head sadly.

“That’s astonishing,” Carling stated. “It
beats all.”

Sophie was equally flabbergasted. “Can you
imagine if Egbert simply disappeared tomorrow and didn’t tell you
why?”

Carling’s eyes flashed. “I’d murder him for
leading me on.” But she placed her hand over Sophie’s. “I wish I
could tell you I understood what’s going on.”

“It’s all right,” she said, though it wasn’t.
“I’ve decided to get on with it, as you’d say. I’ve got rehearsals
to think about. And Riley’s exams are next week. After that, I
don’t know what his plans are.”

She tried to recall if their relationship had
all been on her side. It seemed so long ago when he’d first kissed
her in Spring City; certainly he had made the first move, unless
he’d thought she was flirting by playing the piano for him.

And in San Francisco, had she led him on by
allowing him into her room? At one point, after she’d been injured,
he’d resisted her entirely and was able to undress her and leave
her. And then . . . her cheeks burned, hadn’t she been the one to
force him to her bed at The Grand? Even after he’d sought her out a
week ago, he hadn’t pushed his way into her new apartment. And when
given the chance, he hadn’t made love to her.
No
contraception
, he’d said, without, it seemed, much regret. Yet
he’d told her he loved her. Why?

Another week of rehearsals, this time of
Henry’s own compositions, and still nothing but silence from Riley.
On the eve of the first performance of their new series, Sophie had
no illusions that Riley would be in the front row or even in the
concert hall. She could only be grateful that he hadn’t taken her
offer of intimacy that day after their walk. If he had, she would
certainly feel soiled and discarded by his sudden and absolute
abandonment.

*****

The aromas, the tastes, and the lively flow
of conversation, the laughter and the warmth in the room—all of it
would have made Sophie feel as though she were home for
Thanksgiving, except for the incessant ache over missing Riley. In
another month, she would be home, to visit her family during the
Christmas festivities. She had promised her mother, and while she
couldn’t wait to see her family, she was most definitely not
looking forward to traveling between the coasts.