Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,24

he could already feel some kind of emotional free fall coming on by just looking into those gloriously impish, brown eyes of hers. He couldn’t tell for sure what he felt, but if he had any hopes of a parachute nearby with the words common sense written on it, he was hopelessly out of luck.

With his hand guiding Lark at the small of her back, he walked her out to his new sedan.

“Thanks for having your car right here and all warmed up,” Lark said. “That’s nice.”

Hmm. She noticed. As he tucked her and her frothy gown into the passenger side of his sedan, he noticed her perfume again. What police squad would ever need tear gas? They could just hose the criminals down with this stuff, and every last one of them would be incapacitated. Should I say that? Naw.

Everett scooted in under the wheel and settled into the leather seat. He gazed at her and smiled. She was such a pleasure to look at it was hard to stop himself from staring.

“I was noticing your CD selection,” Lark said. “I love piano jazz. Maybe it’s the kind of music you should take up if you start taking piano lessons.”

“Piano lessons?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I took a few when I was a kid. But I don’t play.”

Lark turned toward him. “But did you like it?”

Everett couldn’t remember ever thinking about it. At least not for a long time. He’d locked those experiences away with his other family memories. “It was all right.” He recalled his teacher, Mrs. Musgrove, bragging on how fast he’d caught on. “No, I guess it was more than just all right. My mind enjoyed figuring out the mystery of it.” He laughed. “That’s the way I saw all those black and white keys. Like a grand puzzle to be mastered. And when I did, people seemed to enjoy it.”

Lark touched his arm. “So you took pleasure in it.”

Everett thought again for a moment. “I did. But I guess my approach didn’t have much bravura.” He backed out onto Whispering Lane and headed toward downtown.

“Oh, but people who are good at math can also be wonderful musicians.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.” Oh, yeah. Mrs. Musgrove. Everett flipped on his signal light. “So do you feel the same way about the guitar? Like it’s a brainteaser?” He couldn’t believe he was talking music. Pretty artsy for a left-brain guy like me.

“No, not really.” Lark shook her head. “I thought it was a good way to communicate what I felt in here.” She pointed to her heart.

Everett liked the way she expressed herself. “So do you like all kinds of music?” he asked as he maneuvered through the winding streets, still marveling at the way the homes hugged the sides of the cliffs.

“Yes,” Lark said. “But mostly I love Christian rock.”

“So I noticed.” Everett grinned at her.

Lark’s head went down in a cute act of contrition. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Well, my music was just as loud,” Everett said. “By the way, you have talent. Why didn’t you pursue a music career?”

“I would have loved to, but I decided long ago there were only so many hours in a life. There just wasn’t enough time to do everything well. Or even two things well enough to do them professionally.”

“You’re right about life having a limited number of hours.” Perhaps it’s why he guarded his time so cautiously. Or rabidly as he overheard someone say at a meeting once. “Thank you for sharing some of those hours with me.” Everett saw Lark do the lighting up thing again, and it energized him. With other women, he’d never said anything charming, but then again, maybe he just hadn’t been motivated. Until now. He slipped a CD into the player. Piano music swirled around them like a soft breeze. “I can tell you like art,” Everett said. “I guess you chose well. How did you get started?”

“Well, I got an assignment right after I graduated from the University of Arkansas, and the book became so successful, I kept getting more and more work. They were all in watercolors, which I enjoy. And then I’ve also supplemented my income with a trust fund as well as some of my other investments. It’s worked well. . .so far.”

“What do you mean?” Everett asked.

“I don’t have as much work as I used to, so I need to make some choices.”

“Career choices?” He wanted to study her expression but felt he’d