Chapter 19

 

“Are you certain this is going to be okay?”

Helena glanced at Beau in surprise. They were in her flat waiting for Vlad and Molly to arrive. “I know I don’t make pizza often, but it will be fine.”

“I’m not talking about the pizza.”

He slanted a frustrated glance at her, but she was confused as to what he was asking. Weren’t men supposed to be simple?

“Never mind,” he muttered.

“I have no idea what you’re asking.” She spread her hands out, completely baffled.

“What if she doesn’t show tonight?”

“Who doesn’t show?” That quickly she finally understood why he was so concerned. “Oh, Molly will come, never fear.”

“I wasn’t fearing.” Although quiet, she still heard his comment, but she didn’t call him on it.

Instead, she dusted off her hands and strode out of the kitchen to stand in front of him. She grasped his arms just above the elbows and squarely faced him. “Molly Wellington is one of the most talented, sweet, friendly women I know. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“I’m not concerned,” he denied, but the tension in his body eased.

What a big fat liar, she thought but didn’t voice.

“Good, because there’s no reason to be.”

“Is she younger or older than Vlad?”

“Younger. He’s a year younger than Maks, and then Molly is four years younger than Vlad.”

He nodded. “Is their other sister younger than Molly?”

“Yes, she’s the baby, which makes her two years younger than Molly.”

She wandered into the kitchen again to see how the dough was rising. It was ready to be spread on the pizza pans Beau had produced. He stepped forward and nudged her out of the way. At the same time, someone knocked on her door.

They left the kitchen to answer the summons. When she opened the door, Molly launched into her arms. Laughing and hugging her friend, she was really pleased to see her.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“It’s wonderful to be here for a little break. Not that I don’t adore America but I do miss home.” Molly brushed her strawberry blond hair out of her face. Her eyes, exactly the same vibrant shade as Maria’s, were warm.

Beau stepped forward at the same time Vlad picked up his sister and shifted her into the flat so he could step inside. The two men exchanged looks she didn’t care to interpret. Instead she smiled at Vlad and then tugged Molly forward. “Molly, this is Beau DuBois.”

Molly’s bright blue eyes widened in shock as she stared at him for a moment. “Beau DuBois, as in the composer?”

He appeared modest for a moment before a lazy smile crossed his handsome face. For all the anxiety he showed five minutes ago, now he was all easy, laid back male. She would never understand men.

“Yes, I’m a composer.” He offered Molly his hand and she stared at it for long moments before realizing she was supposed to shake it.

Then she did so with gusto, and a minor case of hero worship spilled out as she told him how much she loved his work.

“I’ve certainly admired yours.” He led her into the living area.

Deciding that Beau and Molly were fully occupied, she turned to the silent, watching man beside her. He had closed the space between them with ease and next to no detectable movement. But where before he hadn’t been all that close, now he crowded her space.

Not that she minded.

“Hello.” Tilting her head back so she could stare into his face, she smiled up at him and appreciated the male appreciation in his eyes.

“Hello.” He bent to kiss her. She met him halfway. In less than two seconds, they melted together and their arms wrapped around each other.

“It is nice to see these two finally together.” Molly’s voice interrupted in her normal bright tones.

“It’s nice?” Beau sounded dubious.

“They’ve been in love forever.”

With reluctance, she took back her lips. It was a shame because she hadn’t nearly finished her exploration of Vlad’s mouth. There were still things she had to do. Make certain nothing changed.

“Can’t you give us five minutes?” Vlad groused in typical brother fashion. At least what she assumed was typical brother fashion.

“We did.” Molly’s face was a picture of innocence. She didn’t have Maria’s smoldering femme fatale qualities like her sister, but she was every bit as lovely. There was an open yet mysterious quality about Molly that was very appealing. She was intelligent, but also a little naive.

Beau seemed rather enthralled with her.

“We gave you seven minutes.” Beau gestured to the clock. “We’ve got to start those pizzas if we want to eat soon.”

He started for the kitchen so she sent Vlad a smile before following Beau. He washed his hands and then crossed to the bowl where the dough rose above the rim. He dug in and quickly separated it into two halves. One half he placed back in the bowl, while the other one he rolled on top of his fingers until it spread into a perfect circle.

“You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I didn’t tell you I worked at a pizza place?”

“No.”

“Well, I did.” When the dough was round enough to place on the first pan, he quickly spread it to the edges and then started on the second one. She opened the jar of pizza sauce and spread it out, working quickly, though probably not as efficiently.

Beau turned to their audience. “Any preference on toppings?”

They discussed toppings before Helena dug out the ones they settled on. Soon supper was ready for the oven. She slid them in and then set the timer so she would remember to switch them halfway through.

“So Molly.”

“So Helena.”

“I’ve heard good things about this country singer you work for.”

Molly brightened. “Yes, she’s spectacular. You’d never know she was so young, but she is.”

Beau’s eyebrows rose. “How young?”

“She’s in her early twenties.”

“How did she get to be such a superstar so young?”

“I think she got her first record deal at age fifteen.” Molly stared at the counter as she thought about it. “Yes, she was fifteen, and her first record came out soon after she turned sixteen.”

“You worked for a teen?”

“Yes. She’s tall and really beautiful and very, very driven. She also happens to be incredibly talented.”

She leaned over the counter, bracing herself on her elbows. “I heard she writes her own songs.”

“She does. Most of them.” Molly brushed some hair off her face. Beau followed her movement. He watched her, not unlike a predator watches a potential mate.

“I know someone else who writes his own music.” She used her chin to indicate Beau.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s what I do.”

“Not every musician can, you know.” Molly tucked the same strands of hair behind her ear.

“No, but for those of us who do, it’s vital.”

Molly cocked her head to the side. “How so?”

“I’ve been composing ever since I understood you could string notes together to make a melody.”

Helena straightened. “Like Mozart?”

Beau grunted. “No one was like Mozart. He started at age four or five or some such ridiculous age.”

That made her pause. People who were really good in their field apparently started out early. Like Mozart at age four or so, Molly’s country singer boss who got her record deal at age fifteen, and her eyes slid to Vlad. And like Vlad who started learning all things military at age five.

She shuddered. If they got married and had children she didn’t want her children learning about war that young. It was ugly and grim and bloody. Not at all what she wanted for them.

Glancing at Vlad, she noticed he took in everything they said with the air of a man who hadn’t spent much time with friends and family like this. He seemed a bit… shellshocked.

That made her sad.

“When did you start composing?” The lamplight caught in Molly’s hair and made it shimmer like gold.

With a casual shrug, that she doubted was all that casual, Beau answered, “I might have been eight or nine.”

Molly’s breath audibly caught in her throat. “You were that young, oh wow.” Her eyes widened to the size of pepperoni and her lips parted as she stared at him in awe.

A shadow crossed Beau’s face, one she didn’t have time to dwell on because the timer dinged. She crossed back to the oven and switched the pizzas. Then reset the timer. No sense in making them too brown.

The air in the kitchen was scented with the baking pizzas. It made her stomach growl. She crossed to the fridge and tugged out a bowl of fresh fruit. Setting that on the counter, she wasn’t surprised when everyone helped themselves. The next item was the salad. Only Molly picked a carrot out of that.

Finally she handed Beau some drinks. He carried them to the table and then moved to the drinking glass cupboard and took those down. The timer dinged and she hurried to remove the pizzas. The cheese bubbled and the crust was perfectly browned.

Molly leaned forward. “Wow, that looks fantastic.”

“I’m impressed, myself.” They grinned at each other before she carried the first pizza to the table. Beau grabbed the second one.

After locating the pizza slicer Beau brought she handed it to him. As usual, he made the task look simple and easy.

She paused beside Vlad. Here was another man who did a lot of things well. The man was also beyond yummy. While the hot pizzas smelled super delicious, she could be persuaded to go for this yummy man instead.

He might prove to be an excellent weight loss program. Really, she’d never met any food that tasted better than him. Chocolate came close, but he still nudged even that amazing creaminess out.

“Let’s eat,” Beau announced once he finished slicing the pizza.

They all gathered around the table. Vlad seated her while Beau appeared to enjoy seating Molly.

Who sent Beau a private smile of thanks that he obviously got. He wasn’t favoring his left side tonight, so that boded well for him. Perhaps they could play his newest piece for Molly. Another musician would enjoy the mini concert.

“This is delicious, Helena,” Molly said, her face lit with happiness after they started eating.

“Thank you.” She slanted a glance at the reason why Molly thought it was so good. “I had help.”

Molly grinned. “You both did a spectacular job.”

Vlad passed the salad bowl to her. She helped herself, then passed it to Beau, who sat on her left. Molly sat beside him, across from her. Beau and Vlad faced each other. She picked up the fruit bowl and added a large helping to her salad before passing it to Beau.

He stared at her fruit laden salad with revulsion. “That’s disgusting.”

“If you don’t like it, then yes, it would be. I happen to love fruit and salad together.” She shrugged and added a little salad dressing. Then she stirred the entire creation and speared some on the end of her fork.

“It’s perfect,” she decided after she swallowed.

Vlad didn’t seem any more enamored with the combination than Beau, but he did send her an amused look. “Whatever you want.” He took a bite of his pizza.

His jaw and neck muscles worked and she nearly dropped her fork. There was no reason why a man chewing should be so utterly sexy, but Vlad had just shown it was possible. She stared at him and when an inquiring dark eyebrow rose, shook off the daze, as her cheeks turned pink, if not fiery red.

He leaned forward and whispered, “Can I help you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but was pretty certain the promise in them mitigated the effect. “Not right now.”

“They flirt like that all the time.” Beau leaned in to complain to Molly.

A tinkling laugh was his reward and she turned in time to see that he was rather charmed by that laugh and the woman who created it. Molly’s cheeks were bright with color and her eyes sparkled.

“I’m sure they do.” Molly’s voice was a little throatier than normal.

Beau’s eyes narrowed as he sent a lazy smile to Molly, appearing to enjoy her animated features.

Hot breath blew across her ear and Helena started. Just like that, Vlad turned her brain to the consistency of breakfast porridge.

 

After eating they decided to head to Beau’s flat for some music. By the time they reached his door, he had the key out and ready. Within moments he ushered them all inside.

Molly, as though drawn there by a string, surged to the piano. “It’s beautiful,” she said in hushed tones and gazed at it with rapt attention. It gleamed in all it’s dark splendor in the lamp light Beau snapped on. Really, it was a fabulous piece. Black wood polished to a patent leather shine. The workmanship was simple and elegant, utterly graceful and compelling. Shiny wood notwithstanding, it was much like Beau himself.

“I bought it a year ago.” Beau stopped beside her and beheld his greatest possession.

“You don’t see many baby grand pianos in apartments.”

“No, and believe me, the movers were not happy when they realized they had to figure out how to get it up here.”

Molly’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You trusted movers with this instrument?”

“Piano movers,” he tacked on.

Her visage cleared. “Oh, that’s okay. My heart was in my throat there for a moment.”

He smiled at her and she almost felt like a voyeur watching them dance around each other. On the other hand, it was quite interesting.

From the time she hit puberty she had known that Vlad was the man for her. That made her life both simple and complicated. Simple because she knew who her mate was, but complicated because her dating experience resulted in a big fat goose egg.

“May I play it?” Molly asked hesitantly.

“Of course.” Beau escorted her to the piano bench.

Pink flared in Molly’s cheeks.

“She’s happy,” Vlad observed beside her.

“Yes. I think he is, too. He’s just a lot better at concealing it.”

“They look good together.”

She turned to stare at the pair again. “You know, they do. And they’re obviously content to be in each other’s company.” Vlad ushered her to a small love seat near the piano. When they sat, she somehow managed to be plastered tight against him. She hadn’t initiated that but had no intention of protesting either.

Molly ran her fingers over the keys, her awe apparent as she played a chord, then another. Beau leaned against the instrument. She played through a piece that Helena didn’t recognize, and from the glance she sent Vlad’s way, he didn’t either.

“I recognize that song,” Beau announced. “Your country singer has made a fortune on it.”

“She has.” Molly looked smug. “So have I.”

“You wrote it?” Beau looked even more interested.

“Not by myself, but I helped.”

He stared at her like he didn’t quite believe that. “You helped write it?”

Molly flushed and her eyes skittered away from his knowing gaze. Who knew watching another couple’s budding romance could be so entertaining?

“The idea was mine and the words are mostly mine. I’m not quite as good with the melody though.”

Beau nodded slowly. “I’m decent with melodies but not good with words.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t write pop music if my life depended on it.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I’m happy with what I do.” He selected some sheet music. “Would you care to hear a new composition?”

Molly nodded and eagerly traded places with him. He seated himself, lowered the bench, and then shuffled through the pages littering the music rack. After discarding several, he set up a few and then ran his fingers over the keys as a warm up.

When he finished, Beau looked up at Molly. It was evident that this performance was for her. She must have realized the same thing because she swallowed but looked excited. Next he played the composition from her and Vlad’s first evening together. It was romantic and utterly appropriate.

His fingers stroked the keyboard and instantly transported them from his rather nice flat into a totally different world of light and hopes and dreams. That undefinable quality to Beau’s music, that haunting, sweeping aspect of his talent soared them from this plane to one that only existed through music.

Molly’s hand crept to her throat as she listened to each chord, each separate note. Beau played the piece with skill and ease this time. Perhaps it mattered who your audience was. When he reached that tricky bridge that tripped him up, he played it like the professional he was. The notes streamed from his fingers through the piano, perfect, enriching, and uplifting.

No one spoke when the last note echoed into the night and then died. There weren’t words to describe the feelings that one of Beau’s perfectly played pieces evoked. The silence lingered until Beau turned and stared them down.

“Well?”

“You figured out that tricky bridge.” She spoke through a tight throat.

Vlad grinned a little at Beau. “So that’s what it’s supposed to sound like?”

“That’s what it’s supposed to sound like.” Beau flexed his left hand. He looked at her. “Since I think I’ve got it, get your butt over here and help.”

She stood reluctantly and trailed over to the door where she left her guitar. She hoped she wouldn’t need to play. But in light of his amazing rendition, running through the piece another time or two made sense. At least until the motions were familiar and became easier for him.

“That was… glorious.” Molly’s hand remained at her throat as she gazed at Beau in awe and wonder.

For the first time since he finished playing he glanced up at her. “Thank you.”

“Your talent is extraordinary.”

He shrugged. “I’m not special. I just happen to be able to write music.”

“That was special,” Molly argued. “It was like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Extraordinary.”

She meandered over to save him. “I’m here.”

Relief crossed his face. “Good, play.”

They ran through it once then twice and Beau played the composition beautifully. He didn’t appear to be stretching his left hand at all.

“Again,” he commanded nearly as soon as they finished.

Obediently, she joined him as he played the opening notes. She harmonized with him. He played effortlessly. She marveled at his talent. It put her to shame, but she was relieved to be able to keep up.

Once they were finished with the third round, she was ready for a break. Molly still stood entranced beside the piano. Like Beau, she was also a professional musician. “Think you can play this piece if you use one of Beau’s violins?”

Molly tore her gaze from Beau. “What?”

With patience and a wry little twist to her lips she repeated her question.

“I’ve never played it, but if there are notes I should be okay.”

She hadn’t heard Molly play recently, but guessed that her talent equaled Beau’s.

Beau left the piano and opened his instrument closet. He invited Molly to select the instrument of her choice. It was equivalent to taking her to a chocolate store. Molly exclaimed over all of the pieces and touched a few reverently. Her eyes were wide as she took in the closet contents.

“I can play any instrument here?”

“Yes. You’re a professional.”

She pointed to a beautiful violin that was obviously old. “That’s practically priceless.”

“Any instrument in this closet.”

Molly stroked the old violin but she didn’t select it. Instead she took down a newer model that was obviously of excellent quality. The bow hung next to it. She rested her chin on the pad and played a few notes. While Beau could stop people with his piano skill, Molly’s violin skills were every bit as evident just in the few notes she played.

“This one then.”

“That’s the one I play if I need to hear a violin,” Beau said, his eyes approving.

“Let’s tune it.” Excitement laced Molly’s voice as Beau shut the closet door and they returned to the piano. Since violin tuning could be tricky and therefore lengthy, she hung her guitar on the wall and returned to Vlad.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured when he wrapped an arm around her and tugged her closer.

“Just taking all this in.”

“And your conclusion?”

He squinted his eyes for a moment. “It’s nice.”

She smiled. “You like music?”

“From what I’ve experienced tonight, yes, I do.”

“You haven’t listened to music before?”

“No. There’s never been time.” He watched Molly and Beau tune the violin.

That was almost beyond Helena’s comprehension. “You just haven’t taken the time or you don’t care to?”

“I just haven’t done it because there have been other priorities.”

“Such as?”

Vlad didn’t speak for long moments. “Staying alive.”

 

He watched Helena’s beautiful, expressive face. “Staying alive?” Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped.

Odd, that shock didn’t look terrible on her. Nothing did, he guessed.

He shrugged in response to her question. “I had more important things to do.”

Resolve shoved out her shock. “Well, now that you’re home, you’re going to listen to music.” Her voice resembled that of one the hardest nosed drill sergeants he’d ever had the misfortune to train under. Old Beaknose, or Beaky as he was unaffectionately called, was the toughest, most belligerent military man Vlad had ever encountered. Not even officers gave him trouble. That experience taught him not to argue with Helena now.

“So DuBois’s practice sessions don’t count?”

“No.”

He glanced at the other man in her life. “That’s okay because he’s going to be busy now.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Take a look. He’ll be asking my sister out for a date before this night is over.” He used his chin to indicate the pair.

“Oh, right.” Helena smiled as she turned. “Hopefully he doesn’t mess this up.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He has issues.” She stared at DuBois with a troubled expression.

He cleared his throat. “Issues?”

She appeared to shake off the troubled expression, although there was a faint melancholy air as she stared at the other man. “He’ll come to the conclusion that he’s not good enough for her because of his injuries.”

“That happened two years ago.”

“Yes, but it’s been a long recovery and he still has bad days.”

He shook his head. “His injuries will only make Molly love him more.”

Helena brightened. “You know, that’s true. She’s always been extra sweet.”

“Yes. He’d be stupid not to hold on to her.”

“Yeah, well I’ve never accused him of intelligence,” she muttered with a dirty look at the innocent man.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that without him here to defend himself.”

“He knows.”

At that very moment, as though he actually did, DuBois tore his gaze from Molly and turned to stare at Helena. His eyebrow quirked at her. She mouthed something he missed but DuBois didn’t. The musician scowled at her, but didn’t reply. Instead, he returned to Molly and it appeared like he got sucked back into her orbit. He sympathized.

Molly pulled the bow across the strings and even he could tell the instrument was in tune. “That’s it,” Molly stated.

Both of them turned to stare at Helena.

She shook her head. “You two play through the piece so Molly has some practice. I’ll join you next round.”

DuBois and Molly exchanged looks he didn’t bother to interpret, before they smiled at each other. It would take an idiot not to pick up the air of intimacy surrounding the two musicians. DuBois shifted on the bench and with a final glance at Molly, who nodded, positioned his fingers over the piano keys.

When his fingers connected and the music began, Molly was right there with him, in perfect harmony.

“You knew this,” he whispered to Helena.

She smiled. He wanted to crawl into that smile, to live there. “I suspected, but I wasn’t certain.”

“It’s beautiful.” He stated the obvious.

“I think they were born to make music together.”

Her uncanny echo of his own thoughts struck a chord within him he didn’t even know existed. That made him uncomfortable. Since starting this relationship with Helena, he realized he didn’t know much about her. But he was beginning to realize he knew even less about himself.