Harmony Cabins (18 page)

Audra gave him a skeptical look, settling her hands on her hips. “You need to let her know you'll still speak during the Founders Day Celebration.”

Jack took one step forward and placed his hands over hers. “I will.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

Audra shifted their hands so she could hold his. “The celebration is in twelve days. When are you going to tell her?”

Jack dragged one hand over his close-cropped hair. “I'll tell her tomorrow.”

Audra's smile soothed him. “You'll feel better once that's behind you.”

Jack started to say he'd feel better once Founders Day was over, then remembered Audra would be leaving the next day. He'd never longed for something yet dreaded it so much at the same time.

CHAPTER 18

Darius tugged his office telephone toward him Tuesday morning. He tapped in Quincy's old Trinity Falls University phone number from memory. It now belonged to the new history professor. He couldn't think of her as Quincy's replacement. No one could replace his childhood friend. As he waited for her to answer, Darius reviewed his Microsoft Outlook calendar for dates on which he could interview the faculty member for a feature article for the
Monitor.

“Peyton Harris.”

Darius's hand froze on his computer mouse. Dr. Harris's warm, rich voice entered his blood like pure alcohol.

“Hello?” she prompted when Darius didn't respond. Her voice was sharp.

He pulled himself together. “Dr. Harris, I'm Darius Knight. I'm a reporter with
The Trinity Falls Monitor.
Welcome to—”

“I'm not doing interviews.”

Darius had heard that line before. Ean had tried it about nine months ago when Darius wanted to do a story on his childhood friend returning to Trinity Falls and opening a solo law practice.

He looked away from his computer monitor to give the phone conversation his full attention. “I understand your reluctance to be interviewed—”

“No, you don't.” Her voice cooled.

Darius hesitated. Her attitude took him by surprise. “I know a lot of people are uncomfortable being in the spotlight.”

“Then you'll respect my decision not to be interviewed—”

“I won't take much of your time, Dr. Harris.” Darius's mind moved quickly. She sounded like she was going to hang up on him.

“This isn't about time, Mr. Knight.”

“I can bring the photographer with me. We can do the interview and take the photo at the same time.” Darius brought Quincy's old office to mind. It wasn't exactly photogenic, but they could make something work.

“No. No photos.” Her response was fast and firm.

Darius's brows knitted. Why was she so opposed to a simple interview? What was behind her aversion to having her picture taken? “I was hoping to do a feature on you. We'd need a photo to go with the article.”

“You won't need a photo. There will be no article.”

“Dr. Harris, what's this about?”

“It's about the need for you to respect my wishes not to appear in your newspaper or any newspaper.” She spoke in a precise, measured voice. “I won't grant any interviews to you or anyone else. There's no need for publicity.”

Perhaps Darius should give up. For some reason, he couldn't. Was it the reporter in him, refusing to let go of a story, or the man in him, responding to the sound of her voice?

“Dr. Harris, you're new to Trinity Falls. We don't often have people move into our community.” Usually, people moved out. “That alone makes you newsworthy. Add to that, you're the newest addition to our local university's faculty. Your neighbors will want to get to know you.”

“I'm sure I'll meet them. They don't need to read about me in your paper.”

Darius was at a loss. “It doesn't have to be an extensive article. We can cut out your childhood aspirations of walking on the moon and just cover your immediate past.”

“I've given you the wrong impression, Mr. Knight.” Her words were brisk. Clearly, his attempt at levity hadn't impressed her. “My decision is not up for debate. I will not grant you any interviews, nor will I allow you to take any photos of me.”

The line went dead. Darius stared at his blank caller identification screen. What had just happened? No one had ever turned down his request for an interview. They may have needed some persuading, like Ean, but in the end, he'd always gotten the story. Why was Peyton Harris so opposed to the press?

Darius jabbed the buttons for Quincy's cell phone number. His friend answered on the third ring. “What's up?”

Darius rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “What's the deal with the new professor? She doesn't want to be interviewed.”

“Maybe she's read your work.”

Darius shook his head at the weak insult. “I'm serious. Why is she blocking me?”

“I don't know. Why don't you call Foster to see if he could convince her to talk to you?”

“Good idea. I'll catch up with you later.”

Darius ended the call, then launched his online contacts file. He located the number for Foster Gooden, the university's vice president for academic affairs. He didn't like pulling rank; but if that's what he had to do to get the article on the university's new faculty member, he'd put his connections to use.

 

 

“Are there any ugly men in Trinity Falls?” Audra whispered the question to Jack as Doreen and the Trinity Falls University concert band director approached their table at Books & Bakery Tuesday afternoon.

Jack scowled. “I'm sitting right here, Audra.”

“I'm sorry.” The humor in her voice contradicted her apology. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

Jack grunted. “That's why I came to Books and Bakery with you today.”

“Jealous?”

Jack grunted again.

Vaughn Brooks didn't fit her image of a university band director. He appeared to be in his late thirties. Standing a little over six feet tall, he was built like a football tight end. He was bald, with nutmeg skin and a neat goatee. A plain white T-shirt stretched across his chest. Knee-length blue jean shorts emphasized his long, powerful legs.

Doreen stopped at their table in the far corner of the bakery section. “Audra Lane, Vaughn Brooks.”

Vaughn accepted her hand. “I enjoy your work.” His voice was deep and smooth, his smile friendly.

“Thank you.” Audra shook Vaughn's hand. “I've heard great things about your band.”

“I bet you have.” He winked at Doreen before releasing Audra's hand. He took the seat across the table from the bakery manager, sitting next to Jack. Each spot had a mug of coffee, compliments of Doreen. “Thank you for agreeing to help us put together a surprise number for the celebration.”

Audra slipped a look toward Doreen. “Unfortunately, as I explained to Doreen, none of the performers I contacted are available that day. But Electra Day's record label has given you permission to cover one of her most recent releases.”

“Electra Day?” Vaughn's dark eyes widened. “Which song?”

Audra smiled at his excitement. “It's a song I wrote for her, ‘Lifting Me Up.' Do you know it?”

Vaughn leaned back on his chair. A slow smile lit his face. “Do I know it? I love it. It's fast, upbeat.”

Doreen clapped her hands together. “It's perfect for the celebration.”

Audra had thought the same. “Will your musicians be able to learn it in time for the event? It's already July 29. They only have eleven days.”

Vaughn nodded. “We're just doing four pieces. We learned the other three during the school year, and I told the kids to keep practicing over summer break.”

Audra frowned. “When will they come back from break?”

Vaughn leaned into the table. “Most of my kids are local. The rest came back early for the concert. They moved into the dorms Sunday.”

Audra smiled her relief. “Then it sounds like you can get started.”

Vaughn nodded. “How soon can you get the sheet music to me?”

Audra pulled a folder from the oversized canvas tote bag on the floor beside her feet. “I have it now. It's a pretty simple piece.” She passed it across the table to Vaughn. “All you need is someone to sing it.”

“Why don't you do it?” Jack made the question sound like a dare.

Audra met the challenge in his onyx eyes. “I'm not a singer.”

“You sound like one.” Jack's look said he wasn't backing down.

Neither was Audra. “Being able to hold a note and being able to sing are two separate things.”

Doreen joined the debate—unfortunately, on Jack's side. “Audra, if Jack says you can sing, then you can sing. We'd love to include you as part of our Founders Day Celebration.”

If they were alone, she'd reach over and pinch Jackson Elijah Sansbury really hard. But there were so many lunch patrons in the bakery area; too many witnesses to cause a scene. She glared at him, instead. “Doreen, I'm not a performer.”

Doreen chuckled. “The Trinity Falls sesquicentennial isn't a ‘Night at the Apollo.' It's just a small-town celebration.”

Audra wasn't buying it. “The town's residents have been planning for and anticipating this event for more than a year. They deserve someone who can do the song justice.”

“And who's better at that than the songwriter?” Vaughn added his voice to the pressure mounting against Audra. And he'd seemed so rational.

Audra gave Jack a look that said,
I'll get even with you.
He met her gaze with innocence. She shifted her attention to Doreen and Vaughn. “Doesn't the town or at least the university have a glee club or something, people who enjoy singing in public?”

“The university has a choir,” Doreen offered.

“They perform classical and gospel songs,” Vaughn explained. “As you know, those are very different types of music.”

“Audra.” Jack's voice was as compelling as a spell. “You can do this.”

She made one last effort at resistance. “I haven't performed since high school.”

Jack just smiled. “You're a different person now. You're more confident, more accomplished. This is a different situation. It's a chance to be part of something big and historical. No one's here to judge you. We just want to enjoy your music.”

Audra looked from Jack to Doreen and Vaughn. There was hope in their eyes. Jack was right. This was a momentous opportunity. She didn't want to sit on the sidelines if she could be a part of it. “All right. I'll share the stage with you.”

Jack gave her his slow, sexy smile, the one that curled her toes against her sandals. “Thank you.”

Doreen leaned over to hug her. “Audra, this is wonderful. Wonderful! Thank you so much.”

“The kids are going to be pumped.” Vaughn's grin brightened his lean features. “Thank you.”

Audra wished she could share their enthusiasm. Maybe later. Right now, her mouth was dry from nervousness. Trinity Falls had moved the boundaries of her comfort zone. Permanently. Audra didn't know whether she deserved the look in Jack's eyes—admiration, gratitude, and something indefinable.

 

 

The university felt different now that Quincy had left campus. Darius allowed muscle memory to lead him to his friend's former office, now the office of the stubborn Dr. Peyton Harris. Classes wouldn't start for another three weeks. Campus was deserted, except for staff members, and the handful of students and faculty on summer programs. Quincy had spent four years of his career on this campus, and—except for his undergraduate and graduate studies—his whole life in Trinity Falls. Darius would miss being able to see his friend every day. Still, he was happy for Quincy. He had a great opportunity at the University of Pennsylvania, and he'd won Ramona's heart, the woman of his dreams. Ean also had found his soul mate in Megan. Darius was pleased for both men.

He stopped in the office's open doorway. It was probably safe to assume the woman seated behind the wood laminate desk was Peyton Harris. She'd sounded taller on the phone.

Darius knocked twice in rapid succession. “Dr. Harris?”

Peyton popped out of her chair like a fawn flushed from the bushes. She stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise. “Who are you?”

Darius crossed into the office, mistaking Peyton's question as permission to enter. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Darius Knight from
The Trinity Falls Monitor.
We spoke earlier this morning.”

The room was cleaner than it had been in the four years Quincy had called it “home away from home.” It was brighter, less cluttered, and no longer stank of stale coffee.

“What are you doing here?” Peyton squared her slight shoulders beneath an oversized navy blue T-shirt, bracing her fingertips on the surface of her well-organized desk.

She couldn't be more than five feet tall. She was small and fine-boned. Her bright brown hair was a riot of curls bobbing just above her shoulders. Her honey-and-chocolate-cream complexion housed a few freckles. Her full, bubble-gum pink lips were tight with displeasure, and her caramel eyes snapped up at him.

“I wanted to talk with you about your interview for the
Monitor.
”

Her eyes narrowed. “I told you I won't grant any interviews to anyone for any publication.”

“I heard you over the phone.” Darius stepped farther into the room. He stopped when he sensed a spike in the professor's tension level.

“Then why are you here?”

Darius tried a winning smile. Its power had melted the hearts of much colder women. “I wanted to give you a reason to change your mind.”

“I have no intention of changing my mind.” Her voice left Darius without any wiggle room.

Darius puzzled the best way to reach her. “Why don't you want to do the interview?”

“I'm not newsworthy.” Peyton's caramel gaze was quelling. “I'm a history professor at a liberal arts university. There are thousands of us across the country, four at this university alone who are just like me.”

“No, not like you.” He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it was the truth.

“What makes me different?” Peyton's voice was sharp.