The dog, after sniffing me thoroughly, then jumped up on the couch. Lucas quickly chased him off to his doggy bed, though. So apparently the dog lived under the same neatness rules that I did. Poor guy. We’d have to commiserate later.
“So, ah, apparently you’re some kind of piano virtuoso?” I raised my brows at him.
He rolled his eyes. “My parents forced lessons on me from when I was four until I was seventeen. I get by. But no, not a virtuoso.”
I stared at him, frowning as I gnawed on my lower lip.
After a minute of silence, he shook his head at me. “What?”
I fluttered my eyes in irritation. “Well, I mean. That’s probably something I should know, right? For the interview?”
He scowled and turned, heading for the kitchen. I followed at his heels.
“Do I know everything else?”
He darted a look at me and then ducked into the fridge. “It’s impossible to know everything about a person,” he replied.
“Well, are you at least going to play something for me? So I can at least talk about it if they ask?”
His brows scrunched together. “It’s a screening interview consisting of only the most basic questions. What are they going to ask you that would be even relevant?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Does he play a musical instrument? Is he any good? Simple enough questions. I mean, like you said, did you put yourself through all this only to have us screw it up on the interview?”
He scowled, slammed the fridge door shut and spun on the ball of his foot. “Fine.”
A second later, I was the only one standing in the kitchen, my jaw open. I trailed him into the living room where he was now sitting down at the grand piano. It was a lovely, dark wood instrument that rested inside the raised alcove behind the living room. Lifting up the wooden key cover, he put his right runner-bedecked foot on one of the pedals. Then he stretched out his arms and rolled his shoulders. I bit my lip watching those hands, slightly curved fingers barely touching the keys.
Without a flourish or any type of show-off gesture, he then proceeded to blow me away by playing a famous classical piece I instantly recognized but didn’t know by name. His fingers rushed up and down the keyboard as his toe bounced up and down on the pedal.
He read no music nor did his facial expression change at all. Well, no, wait that wasn’t completely accurate. His features, though still blank, seemed to relax a little, as did the rest of his body posture, especially as the piece continued on.
And as I watched his strong, long-fingered hands glide over the keys, it… did something to me. Watching a man’s hands glide over the piano keyboard was infinitely sexier than watching hands on a computer keyboard or game controller. Wow. How did I not know that my husband was a man of hidden talents?
A rush of heat scorched through my insides wondering what other special skills he might have. Maybe even in the bedroom? He played beautifully, and those hands had to be good for more than just the piano and computer keyboards. Like… what if I was his keyboard? I all but resisted fanning myself with my open hand just picturing it. Who’d have thought a man’s sexiness could be increased by an exponential factor by playing the piano so masterfully?
Well…. I’ll. Be. Damned.
Suddenly he was standing, closing the piano up. “No commentary from the peanut gallery needed. Now you know. And I’m hungry.”
With that, he stood and left the room to go back to foraging for dinner.
“Wait…” I trailed after him as I followed him to the fridge. “How… what…? Can you explain that please?”
He put a hand on the fridge door and turned back to me, a dark eyebrow raised. “I thought I just showed you everything you need to know.”
“Well no. You said you took lessons for most of your childhood. You played some Beethoven and then—”
“Mozart,” he corrected. “Ein kleine Nachtmusik.”
“If you’re some kind of musical prodigy, then why—”
“I’m not. I have a near-flawless technical style but with no emotion or color.” He sounded like he was repeating someone else’s critique of his work.
“It sounded amazing to me.”
“No offense, but you don’t exactly have the refined ear to hear what I’m describing. You didn’t even know it was Mozart.”
I shrugged. “I know what sounds good. I’d kill to be able to play like that.”