Passionate Persuasion (Entangled Indulgence) (7 page)

“I shouldn’t have said easier. I should have said it comes more natural. Not because you’re female,” he hastily added. “But because of
that
.”

He pointed to the stage, and even though it was full of the dance orchestra now, she knew he meant because of the way she played the cello. “You put your heart into your music every day.”

“Don’t you put your heart into your pub? Into all your businesses, but
especially
into the pub?”

“That’s different,” he said, taking her hands as if worried she’d run away. Or throw something at him. But she was unarmed. “I can control the business.”

“Oh really. You can control the economy, and the weather, and the competition…” He made a “Point taken” face, and she squeezed his hands, as if she could squeeze her conviction into him. “Alex, you put your heart into Port Calypso. This is your home, and you want to make it better.”

He hadn’t seen the parallel, obviously, though he’d clearly given the rest of it a lot of thought. “It is, and I do. But you’re only here for a year.”

“What made you think that?”

“Your contract is up at the end of the year.”

“Yeah. And contracts can be renewed. And people can rack up frequent flier miles—especially with a cello, because you have to buy a seat for it on the plane.”

“Really?” he asked.

“The unpressurized hold is pretty much stringed instrument death…”

He laughed, which was what she wanted. She wanted to hear that again, wanted to see that flash of smile, that glint of devil in him. “No. I mean, you’d really stay here. With me.”

“I’m pretty sure that if anyone could persuade me,” she said, letting him see the devil in her, “it would be you.”

He pulled her a step closer, tucked her hands against his chest. She half-noticed that the people nearest them had stopped dancing, stopped pretending not to watch. She was pretty sure Alex hadn’t noticed at all. Or maybe he didn’t care.

“You should know, I’m not good at throwing my heart into things. But you’re different. I mean, I’m different with you. That’s why I lied to get a date with you. That’s why I can be such an ass around you. It’s like my
want
short circuits my brain and these stupid things come out of my mouth—”

“You’re going to have to get over that, you know, if you want a life in public office.”

“It’s okay. It only happens with you.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better.”

“It should.” He lifted her hands and put them around his neck. “Now shut up and listen. Whatever happened in the past is the past. All I know now is that until you came back into my life, I’ve been satisfied, but I haven’t really been happy.”

For a few crucial seconds, she couldn’t speak at all past the lump in her throat. “You say that like it’s not a lot. Like it’s not
everything
to hear you say that.”

His mouth curved in a disreputable, I’ve-got-you-now sort of, melting-chocolate-on-the-dashboard sort of smile. “Oh. Well, it’s everything I’ve got, so that’s about right.”

“It’s
exactly
right.”

She tightened her arms around his neck and let her kisses do the talking for her, underscored by the sweep of violins, and maybe a cheering laugh from the closest patrons of the arts. It was a Hollywood Ending, and if symphony subscriptions didn’t go up immediately, Kiara would eat her bowstrings.

Finally Alex let her breathe, but he didn’t let her go. “What are you doing for the next year?” he asked in her ear. “Or two, or maybe three.”

“You,” she answered, in a way her mother warned her about.

“Damned straight.”

About the Author

Writing as Rosemary Clement-Moore, Rosemary is the author of supernatural mystery novels for young (and not so young) adults, including
Texas Gothic
and
The Splendor Falls
. Her books have won the Romance Writers of America’s RITA award, been included on the ALA list of best books for teens, and received starred reviews from Kirkus Reviews and School Library Journal. She loves coffee, dogs, Jane Austen, military history, comic books, Gilbert and Sullivan, Star Wars, books with kissing, and movies with sword fights and/or explosions. You can visit her webpage at
www.rosemaryclementmoore.com
.

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