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the area immediately surrounding them. He was aware that
concert pianist Veronica Templeman was to be master of ceremonies. He’d been
looking forward to meeting her, especially given that he’d been a fan since
he’d first heard her play five years ago. In fact, he had a bit of a celebrity
crush.
    Only, he hadn’t seen her yet. He didn’t see her now, either.
    “Is she here?” he asked. He wasn’t anxious to leave Roni’s
side, but he did want to say hello to Ms. Templeman.
    The next instant, Roni stuck out her hand, smiled wryly at
him, and said, “Roni Templeman.”
    The floor could have opened him up and swallowed him whole.
    Roni. Veronica.
    Of course.
    How had he missed that?
    He closed his hand around hers for the second time that day,
not unaware of the heat that traveled up his arm as he did.
    He’d only seen Veronica— Roni —from a distance or on CD
covers before, so he’d never realized she was so tiny. But also, he’d never
seen her with anything but wavy, jet-back hair down to the curve of her rear.
    The hair was still jet black, but it was completely straight
and barely hit her chin.
    Roni’s lips curved before him as he stood there gaping like an
idiot.
    “I take it you didn’t recognize me?” she murmured softly.
She’d turned fully to face him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw contestant
number one move hesitantly on to find someone else to talk to. The two of them
were alone.
    In the middle of a roomful of people.
    But still, he had her alone.
    And he still had her hand in his.
    “I had no idea,” he said. The thought that internationally
renowned concert pianist Veronica Templeman had been flirting with him earlier that
day was almost enough to make him giggle like a schoolgirl. “You look different
than when you were performing.”
    She’d always been stunning in her promotional photos. Not so
much model-perfect—her chin was a little too round and her eyes a bit too wide set.
But rather, as if there were a unique, magical aura about her. It made her
appear almost ethereal. In person, however …
    He glanced from her black hair to the lips that bore the
faintest hint of a coral color and then on down to the creamy skin peeking out
above the modest neckline of her dress.
    In person, she short-circuited his brain.
    She laughed, the sound light. Sexy. It made him want to
stand even closer, touch her even more.
    “I’ve changed a bit,” she admitted. “Without the hair, very
few people recognize me at first sight.” Her voice dropped lower and he had the
idea that this was what she’d sound like after a rousing night in bed. “So you’ve
heard my music?”
    “A time or two.” The first had been with the Dallas
Symphony. He’d been dating Des then, and at twenty-two, had tried to impress her
with a fancy night out. He’d been the one to come away impressed, though. By
the guest appearance of Veronica Templeman.
    He’d been a fan of classical music since a required class his
freshmen year had introduced him to it, but he’d never been to a live
performance. And he’d never heard of Veronica Templeman. Watching her on the
stage that night had touched him. Not merely because she was so good. And “good”
was a mild word for it. She’d been brilliant. Phenomenal.
    But she’d also seemed as swept away by her own music as the
rest of the crowd had been. When she’d finished, she’d appeared … moved. Exactly
like everyone else in the room.
    With her having played professionally for seventeen years,
it had shocked him to see her pure enjoyment. It hadn’t felt like it was just a
job for her. And he hadn’t been able to get enough.
    He’d bought all of her CDs after that night and then
attended a solo concert two years later when he’d been living in Houston. He
hadn’t realized at the time that it would be one of her last.
    Which made him wonder what had caused her to walk away from
it all.
    She probably didn’t need the money, but still … a person
does