Page 69 of Not Another Love Song

Xander Thorne wanted to put his mouth on her body. Everywhere on her body.

She missed an entrance. But thankfully Diane was there behind her with a kick to her chair.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Gwen didn’t know what to do with her hands. She usually had a champagne glass when talking to strangers at the Plaza, something for her fingers to wrap around.

But the moment she’d arrived she had been accosted by every sort of person, all clamoring to know more about Fugue No. 1, now accompanied. The problem was that she knew nothing about Fugue No. 1 except for the notes on the page. She couldn’t very well just tell people she had had no idea it existed until sixteen bars before her entrance.

“And how long have you been working with Xander Thorne?” a kind old lady squeaked. She was a huge donor. Gwen needed to tread carefully.

“We…Well, we only started…”—what was the word?— “collaborating this season.”

“Oh, lovely! And will we see more collaborations in upcoming concerts?”

Gwen blinked at her, the tight smile held firmly on her face. She needed a drink.

“Absolutely, you will.” Nathan appeared next to her, stepping forward with a grin and a handshake. “Aren’t they spectacular? The Pops are absolutely going to be featuring this partnership in the future.”

Gwen blinked up at him and glanced over at Xander, who was speaking to a different set of donors a few feet away with an uncomfortable grin on his face. They hadn’t had a moment alone together since the bathroom at intermission, but she’d felt his eyes on her.

Nathan was still talking them up, suddenly calling out, “Xander! Apologies, Brian, can I borrow him?” A moment of irritation flashed over Xander’s features before he strolled over to them. “Xander, Dorothy was just asking if you and Gwen will be collaborating on arrangements in the future.”

“I sure hope so,” his voice rumbled from behind her.

A champagne glass was finally pressed into her fingers, and she almost kissed him for it. Xander extended his arm to hug the older woman, pressing kisses to her cheeks. Gwen blushed, thinking inappropriate things about those lips even as they landed on the other side of a wrinkled face.

“Will you tell Dorothy more about what’s coming up for you and Gwen?” Nathan said, his marketing face on and ready to go.

Gwen gulped down her champagne like it was water.

“Oh, I would love to, but Gwen and I need to speak to Barry before he cuts out. Besides, I think Dorothy would much rather hear it from you, Nate.” Xander slapped him on the back, hard enough to jar Nathan’s drink.

He steered her away without so much as a goodbye, and Gwen said, “Who’s Barry?”

“No idea. Let’s go find one.”

They were caught in several more webs that evening. Always together. Always with his hand resting lightly on her back. Like kissing him had broken a boundary, and now his hands were free to roam. A hand at her elbow to guide her. His lips against her ear as he named the person approaching them next. A whisper of fingers on her hip.

She let him do most of the talking, since he said the most riveting things:

“Gwen helped me write the cello part, so it’s only fair that I include her in the progression.”

“Miss Jackson truly inspired the piece.”

“I knew from the moment I heard her play that I needed to make music with her.”

Gwen was dizzy. His thumb was brushing patterns on her back.

I want to see you. And fuck you. And play music with you.

Maybe a dam had broken within her as well, because suddenly she couldn’t remember why any of those things couldn’t happen—right—now.

She tossed back her glass of champagne and said to the reporter he was chatting with, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to get going. Xander and I have an early recording session in the morning.”

Xander looked down at her, and the reporter lifted his brows. “Recording! Are you recording the song you played this evening?”

“Yes,” Gwen said. “We have to make some edits tonight… bang a few things out.”

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