Seduced The Unexpected Virgin - By Emily McKay Page 0,68

could he?—and he appreciated the positive feedback. But in truth, there was only person he wanted to talk to. Only one opinion that mattered.

He knew she’d heard the song. After he’d taken the stage, she’d moved to a spot maybe thirty feet into the crowd. He met her gaze over the sea of people and it had been all he could do not to leap down off the stage and go to her. Screw the public performance. Forget the big gesture. But he needed her to hear the song. Needed her to know how he felt about her. Moreover, he needed her to have this experience. If he could win her back—and he hoped to God that he could—if they were going to be together, he needed her to know what it was like to have their relationship paraded about on the stage.

So despite how desperate he was to know how she felt, he didn’t rush to her side, but slowly made his way through the crowd. He kept an eye on her though as she muttered a few words to Emma and Chase and then excused herself. She wended her way through the throng of people, and then disappeared through the front door of Bistro by the Sea, which was where Omar had told him they’d set up command central for the fair.

When he saw her slip through the door, he picked up the pace. He didn’t want her getting out the back unnoticed.

He was relieved to find the restaurant largely empty. Faint sounds of cooking and cleanup drifted into the front room from the kitchen, but Ana was the only one in the dining room. She sat at a table, stacks of flyers spread out in front of her.

He waited until she looked up and then asked, “So what’d you think?”

Ana’s gaze darted away from his and she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I think you—” Then she broke off and gave a little laugh. “I think you can write a good song. But you already knew that.”

“Ana—” he took a step toward her, but she kept talking, warding off his approach.

“Donating the proceeds is incredibly generous. I’m sure we’ll do so much good with the money. I’ll make sure we do.” Finally, she looked up at him. “But this changes nothing. You have to know that.”

He bit back a curse.

“But I am glad—” her voice broke and she swallowed before continuing “—that you’re playing the Alvarez again. It was time.”

A sudden rush of anger hit him. “You know, Ana, all your theories about the Alvarez and the house…you know that’s all crap, right?”

She blinked. He barely registered her surprise before charging on.

“And to be honest, I’m a little tired of you making unilateral assessments about my life, about my emotional state and about our relationship without even discussing them with me.” He softened his harsh words with a smile, making sure she heard the gentle teasing behind them.

“What are you saying?” she arched a brow.

“I’m saying maybe you’re not always right. Maybe the fact that I didn’t play the Alvarez or sell the house had nothing to do with how I felt about Cara. Or whether or not I was over her death.”

Her chin came up defensively, but she replicated his chiding tone. “Okay then, here’s a shocking suggestion. Why don’t you talk about your emotions for a change? ’Cause unless you tell me how you’re feeling, it’s kind of hard for me to know.”

He flashed her a smile. “Didn’t you hear the song? I’m a guy. We don’t talk about our emotions.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “So that’s your excuse?”

Okay, apparently the charm wasn’t going to work here. “No,” he admitted, suddenly serious. “It’s just always been easier with music.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, there are millions of men all around the world who manage to communicate their feelings just fine and they don’t have the benefit of being world-renowned songwriters. So, dig a little deeper, okay?”

Damn it. He shoved a hand through his hair. He knew he needed to say this, but that didn’t make it any easier. “No one has once bothered to ask me why I haven’t sold the house.”

She straightened, surprise flickering over her expression. “Why haven’t you sold the house?”

“Honestly? I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I…what?”

“You want the truth? That’s it. I have no idea how to get rid of it. You’re so convinced I’m not over her death. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know how