you’re planning to settle in town again?”
“At least for the summer. I haven’t decided whether I’ll agree to a fall tour.”
So he had the summer to convince her, he thought. “How about dinner?”
She narrowed her eyes. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
“I mean tonight. We could have our own picnic with the leftovers. Just you and me.”
Just you and me. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Now why don’t we start the day off right?”
After a chuckle, she pressed her lips to his chest. “I thought we already had.”
“I meant you could wash my back.” Grinning, he sat up and dragged her out of bed.
Vanessa discovered she didn’t mind being alone in the house. After Brady dropped her off, she changed into jeans and a short-sleeved sweatshirt. She wanted to spend the day at the piano, planning the lessons, practicing and, if her current mood held, composing.
There had never been enough time for composing on tour, she thought as she tied her hair back. But now she had the summer. Even if ten hours a week would be taken up by lessons, and nearly that many again by planning them, she had plenty of time to indulge in her first love.
Her first love, she repeated with a smile. No, that wasn’t composing. That was Brady. He had been her first love. Her first lover. And it was more than probable he would be her last.
He loved her. Or believed he did. He would never have used the words unless he believed it. Nor could she, Vanessa reflected. She had to be sure of what was best for herself, for him, for everyone, before she risked her heart with those three words.
Once she said them, he wouldn’t let go again. However much he had mellowed over the years, however responsible he had become, there was still enough of that wild and willful boy in him to have him tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her off. While that fantasy might have its appeal, a daydream appeal, she was too sensible a woman to tolerate it in reality.
The past was done, she thought. Mistakes had been made. She wouldn’t risk the future.
She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Not yet. She wanted only to think of, and enjoy, today.
As she started toward the music room, the phone rang. She debated just letting it ring—a habit she’d developed in hotel rooms when she hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. On the fifth ring, she gave in and answered.
“Hello.”
“Vanessa? Is that you?”
“Yes. Frank?” She recognized the voice of her father’s nervous and devoted assistant.
“Yes. It’s me—I,” he corrected.
Vanessa could all but see him running a soothing hand over the wide bald spot on top of his head. “How are you, Frank?”
“Fine. Fine. Oh—how are you?”
“I’m fine, too.” She had to smile. Though she knew her father had tolerated Frank Margoni only because the man would work an eighty-hour week without complaint, Vanessa was fond of him. “How’s the new protégé?”
“Protégé—? Oh, you mean Francesco. He’s brilliant, really brilliant. Temperamental, of course. Throws things. But then, he’s an artist. He’s going to be playing at the benefit in Cordina.”
“Princess Gabriella’s benefit? The Aid to Handicapped Children?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure he’ll be wonderful.”
“Oh, of course. No doubt. Certainly. But, you see, the princess … she’s terribly disappointed that you won’t perform. She asked me—” there was an audible gulp “—personally, if I would persuade you to reconsider.”
“Frank—”
“You’d stay at the palace, of course. Incredible place.”
“Yes, I know. Frank, I haven’t decided if I’m going to perform again.”
“You know you don’t mean that, Vanessa. With your gift—”
“Yes, my gift,” she said impatiently. “Isn’t it about time I realized it is mine?”
He was silent a moment. “I know your father was often insensitive to your personal needs, but that was only because he was so aware of the depth of your talent.”
“You don’t have to explain him to me, Frank.”
“No … no, of course I don’t.”
She let out a long sigh. It wasn’t fair to take out her frustrations on the hapless Frank Margoni, as her father always had. “I understand the position you’re in, Frank, but I’ve already sent my regrets, and a donation, to Princess Gabriella.”
“I know. That’s why she contacted me. She couldn’t get ahold of you. Of course, I’m not officially your manager, but the princess knew our connection, so …”
“If I decide to tour again, Frank, I’ll depend on you to manage me.”
“I appreciate that, Vanessa.” His glum voice brightened perceptibly. “And I realize that you’ve needed some