CHAPTEREIGHT
DANA
Dana listened to Rux’s message after a long day at work and a whole long night of practice. She had noticed that he had called her again, and as she did before, she simply ignored it. He was playing on her mind like a masterful instrumentalist, and although she missed him, she also hated herself for that yearning.
She had bathed for the day and was getting ready for bed when she let the message play aloud while soft jazz soothed her into relaxation mode.
“Hi, Dana,”his voice said.
Dana combed her long, glossy hair in front of the mirror in her bedroom. Outside, car horns honked, voices chattered, and puddles splashed up from the evening rain. It was the central city orchestra that sometimes comforted her, an ambiance that subdued her artistic soul.
Dana listened to Rux confess that he would wait for her, no matter how long it took for her to call back. It made her freeze her hair brushing mid-stroke and then look down at the phone.
His voice was so calming, so velvety soft, it made her fantasize about what it would sound like pressed up against her ear in the darkness of her bedroom.
He had been so kind and understanding about the situation she was in. She wasn’t going to forgo her dreams of playing in the Philharmonic Orchestra, nor would she give up her job as a music teacher. Dana would never do that for a man.
But the way he spoke on the phone made her wonder if they could all co-exist in one magically succinct universe.
Dana stared at her phone and bit her lip. She was only wearing her turquoise silk robe after her bath and was feeling a little bit daring. She picked up the phone and gave Rux a callback and was amused by how quickly he answered.
“Dana,” Rux said, sounding breathless. “How are you? I’ve missed hearing your voice.”
Dana felt like a teenager, her heart rattling around in her chest like a ticking time bomb, breathing heavily and letting her fingers trail down the top of her collarbone into the valley between her breasts.
“That was quite some message,” she said softly. “I couldn’t resist calling you back.”
Dana heard him chuckle, sounding exasperated but relaxed. She stood from where she had been sitting in front of the mirror and sat next to the window, curling up and watching the city lights beam below.
“I wanted to be honest with you,” Rux said. “I like you, but I understand if it was a little too fast.”
If there was a cord attached to the phone, Dana would have been curling it with her finger. The man was oozing sexuality, masculinity, and, damn, even empathy. She hadn’t felt attracted to someone like that in so long … possibly ever.
Their rapport returned to its original, playful ease as they discussed some of his irritating business partners, her preference for classic cars' aesthetics versus how they ran, and the sheet music she had been using to practice for her audition.
“The Swan,” Rux said.
Dana was curled up, still on the chair against the window, leaning on her hand and gazing at the rain that had begun to patter lightly against the cityscape. Pools of light from the streetlamp showcased the wetness like a spotlight on a stage. She imagined Rux there, kissing her in the rain to the sound of a calming classical concerto.
“You know it?” Dana asked.
“Uh-huh,” Rux replied. “Not from experience, of course. I admire what you musicians do. It’s such a mystical skill … like you’re summoning the dead or something.”
Dana giggled into the phone, once again feeling like a much younger woman. He had that effect on her. It was frightening how tranquil he could make her.
“That’s a new one,” Dana said mid-laugh.
She had turned to adjust her position and noticed it was nearly midnight. They had been talking for nearly two hours.
“Shit,” Dana said
“What’s up?” Rux replied.
“I’ve got to head to bed now, sorry,” she said, meaning it desperately. “Lady’s got to earn her dollars tomorrow.”
Rux laughed, a pepper of disappointment in his tone. There was a brief pause, then he spoke, his husky voice sending a chill down Dana’s spine.
“Can you do me one last favor before bedtime?”