The Bodyguard's Catch

Chapter 3

The question echoed and bounced around inside her head. After the evening with her father, the name was like fingernails on a chalkboard. And yet...

She jumped up and went over to the piano. With everything that had gone down today, the last six months even, the instrument still called to her. Who knew? Or maybe it was merely her desire to get under Remo's skin as much as he was under hers. It appeared the man was completely unaffected by running into her after all this time. Which really shouldn't surprise her. After all, he was the one who'd left, never to be heard from again. If his feelings for her had been real, he wouldn't have left without a word. Would he? He would have contacted her. Wouldn't he?

So maybe it was merely an urge to get a reaction out of him that fired this need to play the piano. Though it could very well be the fact she would be playing Maximillian Chanteur's piano. Had he written Scattered Leaves on this baby grand? How cool would that be? To play the very piano her favorite song was composed on?

As her fingers settled on the keys, she let out a sigh of delight. Regardless, she didn't think she could stop herself from doing this if her life depended on it. And she wouldn't think about the last time she played Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major for Remo. How hot he'd been for her when she'd finished the song. Not going there. Think about the piano. Next on her list was Polonaise in A Flat Major for herself. A great way to release all this emotion without anyone being the wiser. Or the consequences of said release making her situation worse.

"Jordyn, once again a yes or no would suffice." He sighed. "I don't think it's wise to play Max's piano. He's very anal about his instruments."

Not listening. You have no idea what I might do if I don't play it.

The first measure brought Remo to his feet, and by the end of the second he was at her side.

"Shit, Jordyn. Not that one."

"Oh yes, Remo. This one's for you."

"Do you have any idea what you're bringing down on your head?"

"Don't care."

The office door opened then. Speak of the devil. But she didn't care about that either. It barely registered as the notes filled the air and her soul. For the first time in—far too long—the piano wasn't the be-all and end-all of her life. Now it was the thing it had started out to be. A way to process her feelings without suffering any of the repercussions acting on them could bring.

"Max, I'm sorry. She wouldn't listen—"

"Quiet. You're being rude."

It threw her when The Maximillian Chanteur clapped after the song was over, but only for a moment, and it certainly didn't keep her from playing the Polonaise. And, by God, did it ever feel good. It was just the release she needed and when it was done, she felt much better able to cope with everything. Except maybe Remo. She didn't like how much he affected her still. She didn't like that every time she looked at him, she wanted to feel his lips on hers, their bodies touching, his scent enveloping her. Just like before...

Looked like she needed a more complicated piece to eradicate that last bit of emotion.

"Damn, Girl. You're the best pianist I've heard in a long time. What the hell are you doing selling celebrity gossip to the highest bidder?"

"I've decided not to be a professional pianist, and I need the money."

Maybe she didn't need to play a more complicated piece. A professional musician, a pianist himself, just complimented her piano playing. She couldn't seem to get rid of the smile his words conjured.