Page 17 of Vinny

Her green eyes were wide with fright, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.Her delectable, kissable mouth.

“But who’d want to frame me? I’m…I’m…not…,” faltering, she snapped her mouth shut in anger.

“I don’t know who’d do that or why, other than to take suspicion off of themselves. But right now, your har…I mean, Easnadh is heading with a former DEA agent who will meet with a group of other DEA and FBI agents to analyze the situation and let Tony know how to plan for your safety.”

Silence filled the car once again as she mulled over his answers to her question. Deciding to pull her out of her musings, he said, “You never finished telling me about your mother and how you became a harp player.”

She turned back to him, a little smile once again on her face. “That’s right. Well, I told you that my motherwas a violinist, but she also taught music. My father was an orchestra conductor. He’s…not a patient man, but mom had all the patience in the world. She loved playing, but I think she loved teaching more.”

“So did she teach you?”

“At first, yes. I had my first violin when I was four years old,” she admitted.

His eyes jerked over to hers, a look of confusion on his face. “Four? How the hell did you even hold it?”

Laughing, she answered, “They make them sized for children. Mine was tiny.”

He loved hearing her laugh.Hell, I love hearing her speak. I can’t remember the last conversation I had with a woman that didn’t involve ‘flip over’ or ‘are you coming yet’.Suddenly feeling like a world-class prick, he ground his teeth together. He glanced back over at her, now facing the front window, watching the scenery pass by, her profile a study in perfection. Long, thick, dark hair pulled back with a clip away from her face, a few strands loose and framing her face. Even her neck was delicate. He saw her pulse beating and wanted to pull the SUV over long enough to just taste her neck. Feel the life of her beat under his lips.And maybe give her a little bite…just enough to taste…and mark her as mine.

He had not given a woman a love bite since high school and yet the desire to do so now, with this woman, was almost overwhelming. Shifting slightly to ease his erection, he said gruffly, “Continue.”

“I’m sorry. You must think me a terrible story teller,” she giggled. “I suppose I always get this way when talking about mom. Anyway, she taught me the violinwhen I was very young. I also learned the viola and cello. But my love was the harp. When I was only ten and at one of their symphonies, a beautiful harpist was the soloist for the evening. She floated out in a gown…I thought she was a princess.”

Vinny thought about seeing Annalissa at the concert the other evening and could understand the comparison.I sure as hell thought she looked like a princess.

“My mom bought me a Celtic harpand that began my love affair with harps. My father wanted me to learn. He liked the idea that his daughter was not just going to be in the orchestra but would often be front and center. He…likes the…showmanship of the instrument as much as the sound.”

He heard the faltering words when she talked about her father and continued to dislike the man even before meeting him. And he would be meeting him.

His eyes stayed on the rear-view mirror for several miles while listening to her. He wished he could focus just on her, but he had noticed the same vehicle behind them for a while. She did not seem to notice, for which he was glad. He wanted her to focus on happy times and princess dresses…not on the probability that she was in danger.

“Celtic harp?” he queried.

“It’s a mid-sized harp, although you can get them small enough to sit on your lap. They’re much smaller than the large standing pedal harps. I can play any of them, but my favorite is the Celtic.”

“Is that what Easnadh is?” he asked, wanting to keepher talking but also finding that he wanted to learn everything about her.

“Yes, although her story is very interesting. An old woman died in New York without close relatives and when the city sent some people in, they found that her house was filled to the brim with…stuff. The old lady had gone dumpster diving for years and her three-story brownstone was filled with a lot of junk and some antiques. The auction company contacted my teacher, Mr. Feinstein, when a few old musical instruments were found because he is also an expert on antique instruments. Most were old but not antique. But then they brought him an old, beat-up harp, strings broken and in horrible shape. But he recognized its value and bought it from them and then spent almost a year meticulously restoring it. He had it analyzed and, believe it or not, it was a true antique. Over one hundred and thirty years old! Can you even begin to imagine all of the people that have played her? And to think that I’m one of them!”

Vinny glanced over once more and his breath caught in his throat. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement and her smile lit up his world. A foreign feeling swept over him, one of passion born of…what? Protectiveness?Concern? Friendship? Is this what I feel? After only three days?All he knew was that at that moment, the idea of waking up to that face, those eyes, that smile every day was all he wanted. He moved one hand from the steering wheel to rub his chest, a strange ache in his heart.What would I give to have that passion aimed toward me?

7

“So what happened to the harp?” he asked, finding himself truly interested in her story.

“After Mr. Feinstein restored it, he gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you?” he asked incredulously.

“I know, right?” she said, nodding vigorously. “But he said that I was his best student and that I should have the honor of playing on it always.”

Her voice became soft once again and he looked over to see the wistfulness in her expression. “My father loved the publicity,” she added. “The New York Times ran a huge article on the restored harp and the conductor’s daughter who plays it.”

“I take it you didn’t like the publicity?”

“I’m just…not that into…the spotlight. I play because I love it.” Laughing, she added, “But I do get to dress up like a princess. I named the harp Easndah because it is the muse for my music.”

Several more miles passed on the long straight highway,the scenery flying by. Vinny had lost sight of the car he thought may have been following, but he was not letting down his guard. Traffic was not heavy, but he knew they could have just backed off.

---