Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
She removes her top and shorts, depositing them on the floor by the piano bench. “And you like watching me play the piano naked?”
Jackson leans against the back of the sofa and crosses his arms. “We’re about to find out.”
Frankie gives him a thoughtful expression while removing her bra.
Jackson admires her body. On his long list of things he’s too old to do, feeling guilty for this kind of pleasure is one of them.
She slides her underwear down her tan legs. Then, she sits at the piano, adjusting the bench to the correct distance from the pedals.
Perfect posture.
Fingers caressing the keys before pressing them.
Foreplay.
Jackson loved his wife to the ends of the earth. She consumed his heart … his whole world. In many ways, she saved him. His need to protect her became the driving force for his existence. His perseverance.
He’s experienced love, lust, hate, passion, revenge, and countless inconsequential, forgettable encounters. But never has he looked at a woman and felt so intimidated. Watching Frankie play the piano feels like an out-of-body experience. A transcendence to another life. It’s the first time he’s felt like a student unworthy of being in the presence of someone so gifted.
It takes him a few seconds to place the song. It’s from The Piano soundtrack. A tiny grin pulls at his lips. Frankie’s wit is subtle, humor so dry one might miss it or mistake it for something less brilliant.
Does she want him to stare at her leg? Touch her bare shoulder? Lie naked beside her in bed?
Her gifted fingers fly over the keys and stop without warning. The song has an abrupt ending—a chilling silence like a scene flashing to black instead of gradually fading.
“You’re obviously Ada. Am I Alisdair or Baines?”
A slow smile builds on her face while she stares at the keys, and her hands lie idle on her thighs. “Depends. Are you going to cut off my finger or go down on me?”
“I’m well-practiced at both.” He smirks. “Do you have a preference?”
Proving to be a worthy adversary, she slides her gaze to him and shrugs. “Not really. Do you?”
He takes a moment to consider her words, his surroundings, the circumstances that have brought them together, and the uncertainty ahead. By the time he opens his mouth to speak, Frankie’s sliding into her underwear.
Bra.
Shorts.
Shirt.
Flip-flops.
She hits rewind on his fantasy.
“Time’s up. Since you don’t want to get laid or meet my parents, I must return to the house. If my dad catches me playing the piano naked in front of a guy again, I fear he’ll ground me for life.” She tucks her fingers into her back pockets and gives him a goofy grin, an amusing contrast to the naked virtuoso he witnessed just moments earlier.
“Again?” He narrows his eyes, rubbing his chin.
Frankie grins and pivots. “Again.”
“Why do you have an unexpected revenge high?” He knows the answer, but he doesn’t know it from her point of view. After watching her play his piano naked, Jackson has a burgeoning need to see the world from her perspective.
“I did something awful.” Frankie opens the door. “And it felt good.” She turns ninety degrees, head bowed. “I waited for the wave of guilt and regret. It never came,” she murmurs.
“That’s too bad.”
Her gaze flits to his.
Jackson pushes off the back of the sofa. “Guilt and regret are vital to being a kind person. They’re good for your conscience. Keeps everything in check. Sleep on it. And if you feel awful by morning, celebrate having a soul.” He stops beside her.
She turns into him, resting her forehead on his bare chest, hands limp at her sides. “I know you think you’re Alisdair, but I need you to be Baines.”
He grins.
She lifts her head just enough to kiss his sternum, and then she’s out the door. “Did you enjoy watching me play your piano naked?”
She turns at the bottom of the porch steps when he doesn't respond. Enjoy is not the right word. He enjoys a good steak and a cold bottle of Heineken. Francesca, naked at his piano, surpasses any word in the English language. At the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, he imagines it’s how Molly Sanford felt this afternoon. Aghast times infinity.
He’s officially made it his job to know Francesca Holter's every move.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FRANCESCA
I put myself in timeout.
After dinner, Eloise serves homemade sangria to my parents on the deck. I hole up in my room for barely twenty minutes before my dad knocks twice and cracks open the door.
He’s a farmer like his dad and granddad. My mom doesn’t give him much credit for being observant. She feels like she raised us alone. Yet, there is very little that gets past my dad. He’s reserved but far from oblivious. And he’s never been one to beat around the bush. John and I used to joke that the cows were ratting us out because Dad managed to be in the field all day, yet he’d know that we’d done something nearly every day that warranted extra chores.