Wishing Lake (17 page)

He touched his mouth gently to her kiss-swollen lips, then held her gaze. “You too.”

Darius walked into the cold night. He waited for Peyton to lock her door. His body protested each step that carried him closer to his car and farther from Peyton’s bed.

So this is what it was like to feel. He wasn’t sure he enjoyed it.

Peyton followed the music rising from the front of the Trinity Falls University auditorium Tuesday morning. Her footsteps whispered against the red cement floor. But Vaughn probably wouldn’t have heard a stampede of cattle charging the room. His piano bench was mere yards from her, but he seemed so far away.

She settled onto one of the second-row seats to enjoy his private performance. The haunting melody Vaughn lifted from the piano keys mesmerized her. The piece was sad and hopeful at the same time, heartbreaking and defiant. His mastery of the music was captivating. He should be giving concerts for millions. Why was he hidden in this small university auditorium, gifting his music to an audience of one?

The music ended. Peyton sighed, then stood to give her unwitting entertainer a standing ovation. “Encore! Encore!”

Vaughn looked as stunned as if he’d found himself naked in front of a classroom. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long.” Peyton stepped out of the audience and approached the band director. “I couldn’t imagine who was playing the piano at seven in the morning.”

“I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Vaughn checked his watch.

“You’re a very talented pianist. And it’s a beautiful piece. What’s it called?” Peyton leaned against the piano, facing Vaughn.

“‘Untitled Opus Number Five.’” Vaughn closed the piano and stood.

“
You
wrote it?” Peyton’s eyes widened.

Vaughn grinned down at her. “I do have a doctorate in music.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just . . . it’s beautiful.” Peyton stammered her way through a lame apology.

“You didn’t offend me. And thank you.” Vaughn escorted her away from the piano and back up the auditorium’s aisle.

Although Peyton’s office was down the hall, she hadn’t had many occasions to enter the auditorium, perhaps only twice, including the university’s convocation at the beginning of the school year. It was a large room. Roughly six hundred mahogany chairs were separated into three sections and bolted to the red cement floor. Long, narrow Gothic windows were carved into the walls just below the ceiling. In the front of the room, a concert pit stretched between the groupings of folding chairs and the mahogany stage.

“You’ve written five pieces?” Peyton walked with Vaughn, grateful that he’d adjusted the strides of his much longer legs so she wouldn’t have to run beside him.

“I’ve written more than that, but I’ve come up with names for most of them.” Vaughn pushed his hands into the front pockets of his coffee-brown pants.

He had more pieces like those? “Does your concert band perform them?”

“No, people want to hear popular songs.”

“You’re wrong. People would love your work.”

“Thank you.” Vaughn’s face darkened with a blush.

“What do you do with your music if your bands don’t perform them?”

Vaughn smiled. “You ask almost as many questions as Darius.”

“I’m sorry.” Peyton’s face heated with embarrassment, but she still wanted an answer to her question. She stared Vaughn down.

“I’m working on something.” His words were barely audible.

“What is it?”

Vaughn stopped just inside the doors to the auditorium and faced her. “It’s a musical. But not many people know and I’d rather not talk about it.”

Peyton smiled. “I’m glad you’re working on the musical. Thank you for telling me. I can’t wait to attend your opening.”

Vaughn rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if there’ll be an opening.”

“Make it happen. You’re too talented for those songs to sit in a drawer.”

“Thanks.” Vaughn looked away again.

Peyton didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. He’d been so kind to her since her arrival at the university. She changed the subject. “I’m glad I found you. I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to serve on the fund-raising committee for the community center.”

“I’d be honored. Thank you.” Vaughn seemed relieved at the new topic. “Who else is on the committee?”

“I’m going to ask Olivia Stark.” Peyton named the university’s biology professor. “Darius’s parents have volunteered. We’re also going to ask Stan Crockett and CeCe Roben.”

“
Both
of his parents?” Vaughn’s brows rose toward his shaved head. “That should be interesting. I’m glad Darius is cochairing the committee with you.”

Had she imagined the smugness in the music professor’s response? “Vaughn, is Darius right about a matchmaking group?”

“Maybe you and Darius shouldn’t spend so much time together.” Vaughn started walking toward her office. “You’re starting to sound as paranoid as he is.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re wrong.” Peyton fell into step beside him. “Are you a part of this group?”

Vaughn glanced down at her. “First, tell me if you’re enjoying his company.”

“I am.” She enjoyed talking, debating, confiding in him. And last night’s lovemaking had been a revelation.

“Isn’t that all that matters?” This time, there was no mistaking the smugness in Vaughn’s tone.

“You have a point.” But what will she do when the town’s most eligible bachelor loses interest in her?

Darius bounced his pencil’s eraser on his desk as he waited for Peyton to answer her office phone. It was just after ten o’clock Tuesday morning. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he’d woken up. He was still second-guessing his decision to leave her last night. Darius stared blankly at the document on his computer screen, too distracted to review the story notes.

“This is Dr. Harris. May I help you?”

Darius relaxed at the sound of her voice. It was strange and wonderful the effect she had on him. He pictured her sitting at the overly organized desk in her office. Was her hair pinned up? “Dr. Harris, this is Darius Knight. Are you free for lunch?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Knight?” Her voice teased him.

“Don’t you think it’s about time?” Darius lowered his voice. Although he doubted anyone could hear his conversation above the usual shouts, ringing telephones, and clacking computer keyboards in the
Monitor
’s office.

“Yes, I do. But unfortunately, I have a class.” She sounded disappointed. “Why don’t you come to my place tonight and I’ll make you dinner?”

It was Darius’s turn to be disappointed. He smothered a groan at the missed opportunity. “I wish I could. I’m covering the town council meeting tonight.”

“How late will it end?”

Darius skimmed the agenda he’d collected from the Trinity Falls Town Hall office on his way to work. It was long. “Pretty late. Then I’ll need to come back to the office to file my story.”

“Is it like that every week?” She sounded concerned.

Darius enjoyed the hint of caring in Peyton’s question. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Can we have dinner tomorrow?” Peyton paused as though checking her calendar.

“I’d like that.” Although he’d rather have breakfast with her.

“Great. We can talk about the fund-raiser.”

Had they gotten their signals crossed? “That’s not what I had in mind.”

She laughed at his sarcasm. “Vaughn and Olivia agreed to be on our committee.”

“So did Stan and CeCe.”

“Wonderful. We have our eight members, which is excellent since we have less than five weeks to pull this off.”

“Do you think we’ll make it?” He didn’t want to fail his first community fund-raising assignment.

“Failure is not an option,” Peyton deadpanned the tagline from
Apollo 13
.

Darius chuckled. He was falling hard for the little professor. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He rang off. Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough.

Trinity Falls Cuisine was slow on Wednesday nights. Darius escorted Peyton into the fancy restaurant, confident his friends wouldn’t be there to spy on him or make him uncomfortable.

“Good evening. Two?” The young hostess was probably a Trinity Falls University student. She seemed uncomfortable in her skinny black pants, starched white shirt, and narrow black tie.

“Yes, please.” Darius rested his hand lightly on the small of Peyton’s back. Her burgundy wool coat was soft beneath his palm, but he’d have preferred the warmth of her skin.

They followed the hostess farther into the restaurant. The scent of tangy spices and rich sauces hung heavy in the air. Lighting was low, lending the establishment a romantic ambience. But it wasn’t so dim that Darius couldn’t make out the beige-and-gray stone walls and dark wood trim. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the attention of the other diners, a few he recognized. They nodded, returning his gaze with open curiosity.

The hostess stopped beside a booth, waiting while Darius and Peyton settled in. “Your server will be right with you. Enjoy your evening.” She handed each of them a menu, then disappeared after he and Peyton thanked her.

Darius studied the menu. The offerings included roasted chicken, wood-fired steak, rosemary salmon, and baked lemon tilapia. Darius’ stomach growled.

“Sounds as though we got here just in time.” Peyton chuckled.

“I guess so.” Darius’s grin was sheepish. “Anything look good to you?”

“Everything does.” Peyton returned her attention to her menu. But Darius couldn’t look away from her.

Peyton’s copper curls bounced free tonight. He wanted to bury his fingers in its mass. Her honey-and-chocolate-cream complexion glowed against the warm gold of her cashmere sweater. Darius had committed to memory the way her straight black skirt traced her firm hips and slim thighs.

“You’re so beautiful.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the words out loud until Peyton looked at him in surprise. She seemed uncomfortable with his compliment.

She smoothed her hair in a nervous gesture. “Thank you. So are you.”

Darius’s eyes widened in surprise. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

Peyton leaned into the table, lowering her voice. “Why do you think people stare at you everywhere you go?”

Darius tensed. They stared at him because he was Simon and Ethel Knight’s son. But if Peyton wanted to believe it was because of his looks, he wouldn’t correct her.

“Hi, I’m Agnes. I’ll be your server tonight.” The tall, slender college student suddenly appeared beside their booth. They looked younger and younger every year. “What can I get you to drink?”

Peyton glanced at Darius before answering. “May I have a glass of water with lemon?”

“I’ll take an iced tea with lemon, please.”

Agnes went to get their drinks.

Darius caught Peyton’s gaze. “You’re beautiful, kind, and intelligent. Why aren’t you married?”

Peyton’s gaze wavered only slightly. “I can ask you the same thing.”

Yes, she could, but that wasn’t a conversation Darius was ready to have.

He arched a brow. “Are you calling me beautiful, kind, and intelligent? Thank you.”

Darius scanned his menu, deciding on the roasted chicken before setting it down and looking around the restaurant. Not many people were staring at them this time.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I don’t want to pry.” Peyton’s admission made him both curious and cautious.

“What is it?” He searched her expression for a clue to her topic.

“From the discussion during the Books and Bakery Halloween celebration, I had the impression that Simon didn’t introduce you to Noah. You searched for him.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

Darius was taken aback by Peyton’s question. When he’d first told his friends about Noah, whom he’d been visiting practically every weekend for the past six years, they’d wanted to know all about his brother and June, and why he’d never mentioned them before. His parents wanted to know why he’d destroyed their family by bringing Noah into their lives. No one had asked why he’d searched for his brother.

“I don’t have an answer.” Darius shrugged off his discomfort. “The rumors were all over town.”

“That your father had another son?”

“Yes.” He took a sip of his iced tea. “When I first heard that I might have a sibling, I wanted to know what his life was like. Was he being well cared for? Was he a good student? Did he like sports? Was he like me?”

“It sounds like you cared about him even before you met him.” The admiration in Peyton’s eyes made Darius squirm. “You’re a good man, Darius.”

“I just wanted to know.” He shrugged again. “My father was too busy denying Noah’s existence. So I tracked them down and found out for myself. That was six years ago.”

“I’m glad you did.” Peyton smiled. “Noah and June seem like wonderful people.”

“They are.” Darius sat back on the booth bench. “But I don’t want to talk about myself.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“You.”

Peyton met Darius’s gaze. The look in his eyes was like a deep caress. She felt it to her core.

“Your water.” Agnes reappeared. Her blond curls shivered around her head. She served Peyton a glass of water, then gave Darius his iced tea. “Are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes?”

They both ordered the roasted chicken. Agnes again disappeared, leaving Peyton alone once more with Darius.

“So?” he prompted.

“What would you like to know?” Peyton searched his chiseled features.

“Why were you so opposed to my interviewing you for the
Monitor
?”

Peyton hesitated. Now that she’d returned from New York, his question was easier to answer. But what would he think of her? Would he consider her a coward? Because that’s what she was.

She drank her water. “When I moved to Trinity Falls in July, my parents didn’t know I wasn’t returning to New York. I’d told them I was only staying for the fall semester.”

The look of surprise on Darius’s face would have been comical if Peyton wasn’t so anxious for his reaction. “Why did you lie?”

She winced. “My parents’ ambition for me was to become a full, tenured professor at New York University. But I was weary of the competition.”

“Why didn’t you just tell them that?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“That’s what you would’ve done.” Peyton recalled the Books & Bakery Halloween celebration. “I’m stunned by some of the things you’ve said to your parents. I wish I had the courage to say things like that to my parents, but I don’t.”

“What did your parents say when you told them you’d moved here?”

“They weren’t happy.”

“Did they try to change your mind?”

“Of course.” Peyton could still hear their accusations. “They’re used to getting their own way.”

“Will they change your mind?”

Peyton held Darius’s watchful gaze. “No, they won’t.”

“If they’re used to having their own way—and you’re used to giving it to them—what makes this time different?”

“I’m different.” A whisper of a smile curved her lips. “I’m more confident. And that’s because of this town and the people. Here, I feel accepted for who I am and who I want to be.”

Darius studied her for a long, silent moment. What was he looking for? What was he thinking?

He lifted his glass of iced tea. “A toast to your new home and to your always being happy here.”

Peyton touched her glass to his. “I’m sure I will be.”

A great job in a terrific town and wonderful new friends. What more could she hope for?

The next evening, Darius sat on Peyton’s right at the large conference table in one of the Trinity Falls Town Hall meeting rooms. Since she was the one with the fundraising experience, he’d left the seat at the head of the table for her. He didn’t want anyone to think he could answer the critical questions. He couldn’t.

The meeting would start in a few minutes, at 8:00 p.m. on this Thursday night. Most of the committee members already had arrived. Darius looked at the six other people seated around the table, which could comfortably fit ten. Vaughn and Dr. Olivia Stark had walked in with Peyton. They sat across the table from him. The three professors must have left the university together. Stan, CeCe, and Ethel had shown up just a few minutes apart. They’d chosen to sit beside him. The only volunteer not yet accounted for was his father.
Why am I not surprised?

He touched the back of Peyton’s hand to get her attention. “Let’s get started.”

She glanced at her watch. “We can wait a few minutes for your father.”

“No, we can’t.” Darius’s voice was low but firm.

“All right.” Peyton tugged a sheet of paper from the manila folder in front of her and grasped her pen. Facing the group, she raised her voice to gain their attention. “Thank you all for coming. We appreciate your willingness to help make this fundraiser for the Guiding Light Community Center a great success. As Darius and I explained—”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt.” CeCe looked around the table. “But shouldn’t we all introduce ourselves first?”

Darius winced. Round-robin introductions? No way. “That’s not necessary. We all know each other.”

“You may think so but . . . well, I’ll just introduce myself.” She shifted in her seat, extending her right hand to Stan, who sat between her and Darius. “I’m CeCe Roben. I’m a member of the Trinity Falls Town Council.”

Stan’s eyes widened in surprise. He took CeCe’s proffered hand. “We’ve met, CeCe. I’m Stan Crockett, formerly Trinity Falls’ town drunk.”

CeCe’s whole body shook with shock. “Stan? Oh my gosh! You look so different.”

The recovering alcoholic grinned, releasing CeCe’s hand. “I guess I must for you not to recognize me after all these years.”

Darius resisted the urge to check his watch. He waited for CeCe and Stan to finish. “Does anyone else want introductions?”

Murmurings in the negative circled the room. Across the rectangular table, Vaughn’s dark eyes gleamed as though he found Darius’s impatience amusing. Darius opened his mouth to ask Peyton to continue the meeting. A booming voice forestalled his request.

“Evening, everyone.” Simon surveyed the meeting room. “What have I missed?”

Darius took a calming breath, drawing in the room’s chilly, moldy air. “Take a seat.”

Ethel shifted on her chair beside CeCe. “Is that supposed to be your grand entrance?” She snorted. “You know you can’t come into a meeting late, then ask what you missed.”

Simon appeared to be feeding off her negative attention. He lowered himself onto the chair at the foot of the table. “I’m sorry I kept everyone waiting. I was delayed by some important business.”

Ethel snorted. “
This
is important business. If you were serious about volunteering, you would have shown up on time.”

Peyton raised her hands, palms out. “Let’s stay on topic.” She lowered her hands and glanced at her sheet of notes. “Thank you for coming. As I’d started to explain, we have a very aggressive schedule. Darius and I have decided to use the fundraiser to celebrate the center’s fortieth anniversary with a dance.”

“That’s a clever idea.” Olivia’s dark eyes sparkled in her brown face.

“I agree.” Peyton grinned at her colleague before again addressing the group. “Darius suggested we hold the dance in the community center so people can see the cause their money is supporting.”

“That’s my son.” Simon’s raised voice drew all eyes to him. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“
Your
son?” Ethel’s tone was scathing. “I was practically a single parent.”

The tension in Darius’ shoulders threatened to snap him in two. He faced a familiar dilemma: Should he ignore his parents’ outbursts or drag them from the room?

“Forgive me.” Peyton once again lifted her hands. “I should have explained the ground rules first. As part of our fundraising efforts, each committee member will be charged five dollars whenever their outburst takes us off topic. That means, Simon, you would’ve owed us ten dollars—”

His father gaped. “What?”

Peyton ignored Simon’s interruption. “And, Ethel, you would’ve owed us five.”

Ethel’s gloating expression turned to shock. “Why—”

Peyton continued. “But since I hadn’t explained the rules before, I won’t fine you. However, starting now, each outburst that doesn’t directly advance our meeting agenda will cost the violating member five dollars. Does everyone understand?”

Simon and Ethel glared at each other, then answered in unison. “Yes.”

The other committee members agreed.

The burden had been lifted from Darius’s back. He smiled at Peyton, who nodded in response.

“We have a list of tasks for which we need two volunteers each.” Peyton tapped her pen against her meeting notes, checking off the tasks as she read. “We need a team to handle the registration database, another for catering and room reservation, and a third for entertainment and to coordinate printing for the event program. Darius and I will handle the fundraiser’s promotion.”

Darius touched the back of Peyton’s hand again, this time to interrupt her. He also just enjoyed the feel of her skin beneath his touch. “Before we get to the assignments, are there any questions?”

CeCe raised her hand. “How are we going to pay for all of this?”

He could handle that question. “Peyton and I have already received donations from local businesses to help cover our expenses. And we’re going to continue to ask for sponsorships. The
Monitor
and the local radio stations are giving us free advertising.”

CeCe inclined her head in approval. “It sounds as though you’ve already done a lot of work to cover the costs.”