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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.
“More.” Jaye turned her face away and stared out the bus window. They were passing through a particularly lovely section of northwest D.C. Rock Creek Park was immediately to the west, and large colonial and Tudor-style houses lined the street, their lawns losing the dullness of winter and starting to turn a richer shade of green. Abby doubted Jaye saw any of it. “Mom and I lived in Tennessee.”
Physical distance, in Abby’s opinion, was no reason to keep emotionally distant from a child. Especially when it was your own. But she was jumping to conclusions without all the facts. She didn’t know for certain that Connor Smith hadn’t kept in touch with his daughter.
“It must have been tough living so far away from your father,” she said, leading into her question as tactfully as she could. “It’s a good thing for telephones.”
“He never called me,” Jaye muttered, her face still turned to the window.
Abby’s estimation of Connor plummeted, but then she reminded herself that he was trying to do right by Jaye now. Whatever his sins of the past, he had an opportunity to atone for them.
“He’s here now, Jaye.” She tried to dredge up something encouraging to say. “He probably wants to make up for lost time.”
Jaye’s head shook violently back and forth. Her shoulders trembled, as though she were fighting tears.
Abby laid a hand on her arm, unsure of what she’d said wrong. “What is it, honey?”
Jaye looked at her then, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “My dad doesn’t want to make up for lost time. He doesn’t want me at all.”
Emotion clogged Abby’s throat, making it tough to speak. She’d run out of words anyway, not that anything she’d said so far had made Jaye feel the slightest bit better.
The cheerful chatter of the children behind them contrasted vividly with the despair on Jaye’s face. Abby stroked the girl’s arm as resentment built inside her toward Connor Smith.
She knew his type all too well.
Her father hadn’t wanted her, either.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN CONNOR SMITH MADE UP his mind to do something, he followed through. The practice had served him well both in business and in his personal life.
As he’d listened to the symphony perform in the gilded Concert Hall, somewhere between the bull-fighter theme from Bizet’s Carmen and the finale from Rossini’s William Tell Overture, he’d set his mind on getting to know Abby Reed better.
His venue of choice would have been a quiet dinner for two at his town house, but with the addition of a nine-year-old, his home was no longer so private.
When he’d caught Abby peeking looks at him during the concert, he thought that accomplishing his mission wouldn’t be difficult. But something imperceptible had changed since the concert’s end, because the looks she’d stolen on the bus seemed more like glares.
The bus had arrived at Blue Moon Elementary five minutes ago. An hour remained in the school day, so Abby had already sent the protesting students back to their classes. Connor had called a goodbye to Jaye, but she’d given him her back. Neither of them, it seemed, looked forward to the punishment he’d mete out tonight.
He waited for the ex-military chaperone to finish telling Abby how much she’d enjoyed the field trip before he approached Abby, who was heading for the brightly colored main hall of the school. “Miss Reed, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He thought she might ignore him and keep on walking, but then she turned. It was a windy day, and her short dark hair had gotten slightly tousled in the brief walk from the bus to the school. The appealing disarray should have made her seem more approachable, but he read reluctance in her stance. “What is it, Mr. Smith?”
It had been a long time since he’d been so nervous at the prospect of asking out a woman. He cleared his throat, thinking it best if he eased into the subject. “You were right about letting Jaye stay to hear the concert. I could tell she was enraptured.”
He sensed some of the tension leaving her body and imagined she looked a fraction more relaxed.
“She was. You should look into getting her private lessons.” Her gaze sharpened. “You do let her practice, don’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She hesitated, then said, “No reason. As I was saying, extra lessons would help her. There’s only so much I can teach her when she’s part of a group. If you’re interested, I have a sheet with names and phone numbers of private teachers that I’ll send home with her.”
“That’d be great.”
“Fine.” She seemed to think the conversation was over and started to turn away.
“But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She regarded him so coolly, it felt as if the temperature in the elementary school had dropped. Now was probably not the optimum time for what he had in mind, but he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
One of the inspirational quotes J.D. used to spout during football season sprang to mind. The kid had a ton of them, all meant to motivate himself to become the best athlete he could be. They’d worked, too. J. D. Smith had been well on the road to athletic glory before that son of a bitch had robbed him of his life. Biting back the familiar rush of anger, Connor thrust his brother from his mind and concentrated on the saying.
“I’ll get straight to the point. Would you have dinner with me this weekend?”
If he’d asked if she’d cut off her right arm and give it to him, she couldn’t have looked more appalled. “No.”
He rocked back on his heels, surprised at the firmness of her response. He’d been refused before, but never so baldly. But maybe he’d made a mistake. Once again he checked her left ring finger. Yes, it was still bare.
“Are you involved with someone else?” he asked.
“No. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my classroom.”
She took two steps before Connor recovered enough to find his voice. “Wait.”
Reluctance written plainly on her face, she turned back to him. “What’s the matter, Mr. Smith, aren’t you used to being turned down?”
“It’s not that. It’s the way you did it.” He scratched his chin. “You could have softened the blow, said something about how it’s against your policy to date relatives of students.”
“I don’t have a dating policy,” she said. “But if it bothers you that much, let me rephrase my answer. Thank you for the invitation, but no thank you.”
He frowned. “If I’ve done something to offend you, I’d sure like to know what it was.”
“You mean besides not signing the permission slip until I came to your office and then showing up late for the bus?”
He was about to point out that technically he hadn’t been late, but they’d already covered that ground. “Besides that.”
Her chest rose, then fell. Clearly she wanted to be rid of him. “Jaye’s told me some things.”
“What things?” he pressed.
“I know you hadn’t seen her in years until recently.”
“That’s right,” he said slowly, wondering where she was going with this.
“And I know you felt like you had to take her in.”
“That’s right, too,” he said. “The alternative was foster care, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Am I supposed to give you points for that?”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“It was your responsibility to take her in after her mother died. You—”
“Hold on a minute,” he interrupted, trying to make sense of her tirade. “Jaye’s mother isn’t dead.”
“But Jaye said…” Abby’s voice trailed off, and her brow knotted before understanding dawned on her face. “I take it her mother never had cancer, either?”
“No cancer, as far as I know. But then I don’t know a lot about the situation. She and Jaye showed up at my place one night a month or so ago. The next morning, Diana was gone.”
“She just left Jaye without a word?”
“Without a word to Jaye. She left a note for me, saying she needed time to work things out and get her head on straight.”
Abby shook her own head. She clearly didn’t understand what would drive a mother to abandon her child, but neither did Connor. “No wonder Jaye’s having such a tough time.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I’m doing the best I can, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed that you’re now doing what you should have been doing all along?” Her voice held an edge.
“I’m not trying to impress anybody.” He felt as though he were defending himself, but he wasn’t sure for what. “Jaye’s family. It’s my responsibility to help her out.”
“It was your responsibility to work harder at keeping in contact with her,” she snapped.
He cocked his head, wondering at the cause of the unfriendly glint in her eyes. “Do you have a problem with me?”
“Yes, I do,” she retorted. “Don’t you think Jaye knows that you don’t really want her? That’s a hard thing for any daughter to swallow about her father.”
Connor gaped at her as her resentment toward him finally made sense.
“Jaye’s not my daughter,” he said. “She’s my niece.”
ABBY WAS SURE SHE’D BEEN struck speechless before, but couldn’t remember when.
She stared at Connor, suddenly viewing him in a brand-new light. He wasn’t a deadbeat dad. He was a bachelor uncle who’d taken in a young girl who had nowhere else to go.
“If you’re not her father,” she said slowly, “where is he?”
“Diana—that’s my sister—doesn’t know who Jaye’s father is. She had Jaye when she was seventeen. Rumor was that most of the boys in town had Diana before that.”
He related his sister’s history in a flat voice Abby suspected hid a wealth of emotion.
“After she got pregnant, Diana went to stay with our great-aunt near Roanoke. She lived there until Aunt Aggie died about five years ago. Then she just took off with Jaye. She’d call from time to time to say she was okay but we didn’t know where they were until last month.”
“When they showed up on your doorstep,” Abby finished.
He nodded mutely.
“But why leave Jaye with you? Why not leave her with your mother?” Something occurred to her. “Your mother is alive, isn’t she?”
“Very much alive,” Connor assured her, “but she and Diana, they clash. I guess Diana thought I was the best choice.”
The next time Abby was alone with Jaye, she’d take her to task for the outrageous lies she’d told about her uncle and mother. But tattling on the girl now would be like heaping kindling onto a fire. Jaye was already in enough trouble with Connor for her behavior on the bus.
Abby bit down on her lower lip. She’d been so off the mark that she was tempted to find the nearest desk so she could crawl under it. But that wasn’t the way she lived her life. She owned up to her mistakes.
“I owe you an apology,” she said and gulped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on her face. “I know of a way you can make it up to me.”
She felt her heart slamming against her chest wall. He couldn’t possibly mean to renew his dinner invitation, could he? Not after she’d unfairly accused him of neglecting a daughter he didn’t even have?
“You can give Jaye private lessons,” he said. “You are one of the teachers on the list, right?”
Disappointment shot through her that he hadn’t asked her out again, followed by annoyance at herself. High-powered stockbrokers who worked long hours weren’t her type, even if they did take responsibility for their nieces.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m on the list.”
“Great,” he said. “How does Saturday morning sound?”
“Just in case my neighbors want to sleep in on weekends, I don’t teach on Saturday mornings. I don’t take students late on weeknights, either. I live in a duplex converted into apartments. I’ve managed to schedule all my students Monday through Thursday before six o’clock.”
He grimaced. “I couldn’t get Jaye to you until six at the earliest.”
She did some quick mental calculations. Most of her neighbors didn’t arrive home from work until after seven. In the two years she’d taught private lessons and practiced her own music, they’d yet to complain that they could hear her through their shared walls. “I can work with that.”