Seduced The Unexpected Virgin - By Emily McKay Page 0,34
to school in New York, she’d seen him perform more than once. But of course, things were different now. And the focused, tight angle shot of him sitting on an otherwise empty stage gave her a perspective she’d never before seen.
Usually his band included a drummer, a percussionist and a bassist. However, he had a few signature songs that he played alone. Just a guy on a darkened stage making one guitar sound as complex and layered as a whole band. Watching that footage now, she was blown away—all over again—by his sheer talent. By the tremendous amount of work that it must take to master any instrument with such skill. And by the intense concentration and sheer joy on his face as he played.
He was a genius. A virtuoso. And he’d given it all up.
Why?
Why would a man who—
Her doorbell rang, shattering her concentration. She guiltily leapt from her spot on the sofa like she’d been caught peeping. Her remote went flying. She caught it midair and punched Pause on her way to the door.
She flipped on her porch light and threw open the dead bolt. Her neighbor, Marla, a student at the local college had a habit of locking herself out of her house. But the person at the door was not Marla.
In fact, Ana had to stare at him for a solid minute before recognition set in. “Ward?” She gaped stupidly.
He looked completely different than he had any other time she’d seen him. Gone was the casually elegant rock star. He now wore a scruffy cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. His cowboy boots had seen better days and his stained and ripped jeans were one step away from the trash heap. But more than just his clothes had changed. There was an air of beaten-down resignation about him. Like he was down on his luck and one kick in the teeth away from desperation.
His transformation was just shy of miraculous. The first day they’d met, in his pricey cargo pants and five-hundred-dollar sunglasses, he looked like a star foolishly trying to blend in. Now, he looked like a different person.
“I…” she fumbled, still confused.
He said nothing, but his head gave a tiny nod toward her neighbor’s house and his eyes shifted in that direction.
She followed his gaze, only to realize Marla was walking up the path to her house—keys in hand, thank goodness—and was shooting curious glances their way.
Ward leaned forward slightly. “Repeat after me, loudly.”
“What?”
“This is very unusual,” he whispered. “I never see clients at my house.”
Like an idiot, she stared blankly at him. Then glanced at Marla again, who had stopped and was staring at them both with her head tilted to the side. Even though it was dark, Marla had left the porch light on, allowing Ana a clear view of the other woman’s expression of curiosity.
Abruptly, she repeated his words, her voice sounding stiff.
He gave a brief nod, then fed her another line.
“But under the circumstances,” she added more loudly, “you can come in. I’ll see what I can do to help.”
His lips curved into a smile, giving her the impression her clumsy acting amused him. Figured.
“Gracias, señorita,” he said. His Spanish had the flowing accent of a native speaker.
She swallowed her annoyance and stepped back to let him into her house. The moment when she could have refused to even let him in had passed in a blur of playacting and deception.
The second the door closed behind him, his shoulders straightened and the air of despair dissipated. He knocked his hat back an inch with his thumb and grinned like this was the most fun he’d had in months.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, annoyance struggling back to the surface like indigestion.
“You’re the one who said we should keep our relationship private.”
“You want to bring me to a red carpet event where there will be oodles of photographers, but you dress in this elaborate getup just to stop by my house?”
He shrugged as if admitting the absurdity. Still, he snagged her wrist and reeled her in close, then trapped her there with his hands on her hips. “At the Hudsons’ party, no one will think twice about us being together in a professional capacity. But I don’t have any excuse to be at your house after nine on a weekday.”
He plastered his lips to hers, gently invading her mouth with slow, even strokes of his tongue. His hand slipped up to rest on the bare skin of her back,