asked, when Maggie continued to stare off, lost in the images in her head.
Maggie shook her head, not quite ready to say aloud what she was thinking. It seemed so ridiculous.
“Maggie, I can’t believe just having a guy notice you has you that shaken,” Jo said, wedging herself between Maggie’s stool and the one next to her. The businessman seated on the neighboring barstool, who Jo had bumped into, turned to glare at her. His annoyance faded as soon as he saw Jo’s profile, her lovely features accented by cropped, glossy brown hair and big dark brown eyes.
Jo didn’t notice the man twisting on his seat to peer at her. Nor did Erika notice his friend, checking her out as well. Erika, with her thick midnight black hair and killer smile. Then again, attention from men was a common occurrence for both her friends. Not for Maggie, however, with her less than lithe form and limited fashion sense.
Then she recalled the link she’d felt when she’d met the eyes of the man on the stage. A connection had coursed between them, strong and…almost alive. A feeling she’d never in her life encountered. Of course, it wasn’t his attention that had shaken her. Okay, maybe it had a little, but she wasn’t sure that what had occurred between them was even attraction.
It was almost as if they were both in on a secret. A secret he acted like only they knew. Of course, she wasn’t actually in on that secret, was she?
Was it the music? Was that what they’d shared? Did he know she knew the piece he’d been playing?
And she did know it. Maggie was certain. Okay, she had only given a few of the pieces a cursory glance as she readied to leave for vacation. Certainly, packing and getting ready to leave could have made her less observant than usual. And there had been dozens of compositions that needed authenticating. Literally dozens. Symphonies, concerti, and sonatas. Even what appeared to be a complete opera.
Quite a discovery, and she couldn’t resist sneaking a little peek, even though she couldn’t really do any intense analysis until she got back.
Still, even with her brief perusal, she knew the keyboard player up on that stage had been playing one of the pieces she’d seen. A sonata.
She wasn’t wrong—although now, with yet another classic rock standard playing behind her, she was starting to question her own memory.
“That guy—on the keyboards,” she said, still hesitant to say the words aloud, because they were so implausible, “he was just playing one of the pieces I’m researching. A piece that may very well have never been seen by any musician other than the composer.”
Her friends stared at her. They thought she was nuts too.
“Oh, no,” Jo said, shaking her head. “No, no. You are not going to think about work.”
“That’s right,” Erika agreed. “You are too obsessed with it as it is. You are not going to think about it now.”
“But I wasn’t. Not until I heard what he was playing.” Maggie knew what she heard. Even though she knew it wasn’t possible.
“How would some musician on Bourbon Street know the stuff you research? Aren’t they lost pieces of classical music?” Jo frowned, then waved for the bartender.
“Exactly,” Maggie said. “But I know it was one of them. In fact, it was the last piece I looked at before leaving the office.”
Maggie cast a look between her two friends. Erika’s eyes shone with concern. Jo frowned, the downward curve of her lips somewhere between worry and exasperation. And neither one looked as if they believed her.
“You know what I think,” Jo said, after ordering something from the bartender that Maggie couldn’t quite hear over the newest rock anthem pounding behind her. “I think it just reminded you of that piece. And wasn’t that the large collection you and Peter were supposed to be working on together?”
Maggie nodded. This job was one of the few things she’d gotten to keep when Peter left.
“Maybe subconsciously you were thinking about work and Peter. I know it’s hard to let go of what happened, but you’ve got to, for you.” Jo’s eyes now looked more worried than irritated.
Was she that hung up on Peter? Still? Maybe.
The bartender, a bouncy gal with a multitude of dyed braids sticking up from her otherwise shaved head like so many colorful antennae, appeared with three beers. Before Jo could reach into her purse for her wallet, the businessman still pressed beside her took that moment to turn and offer to buy their drinks.
Jo smiled, easily flirting with the man. Maggie watched, momentarily distracted from her own strange train of thought. Flirting was an art form, just like music. And a talent that she’d been born without, just like music.
She glanced over her shoulder, back toward the stage. The man who’d been playing the keyboard now stood at the mic.
For the first time she realized it was his voice that filled the shadowy bar. A good voice, a bit higher than she would have guessed—something about his features suggested he’d have a husky voice. But the tone was strong and melodic, and a little…
She realized her skin tingled and she was holding her breath deep in her chest as she listened. His voice was…sexy. Very sexy.
She forced herself to turn back to the counter and take a sip of her beer.
“I’m thinking that the fact you thought you heard that music is a sign,” Erika said, startling Maggie from her intent concentration on that voice.
“What?” Maggie blinked. Again it was as if the man had mesmerized her, now with his singing rather than his eyes or his playing. What was it about him that was so entrancing to her? Aside from his knowledge of undiscovered sonatas.
“I think the fact that you thought you heard that man playing the very song you were just researching is a sign. Because he couldn’t know it. As you said, it’s not possible. So maybe you just thought you heard it. Maybe it was some weird cosmic occurrence to lead you to this bar, to see him. Maybe Marie Laveau wanted you to meet him.”
Maggie stared at her friend. She was serious.
Maggie turned slightly on her seat and glanced back up to the stage. She considered the idea for a fraction of a second, then nearly laughed. Erika was definitely more esoteric than either herself or Jo. And apparently more romantic too. But this was definitely one of her more fantastic theories.
But the laugh died on her lips.
He was watching her again. His eyes—she couldn’t quite make out the color from this distance—locked with hers. For the first time, she noticed what her friends had mentioned; there was something different about his left eye. Although it definitely wasn’t lazy. It was…
“Just look at the way he’s watching you,” Erika said. “He’s into you.”
Maggie immediately broke her gaze from his, feeling heat burn her cheeks. She shook her head. “You’re making too much of all this.”
She knew she was saying that for herself as much as for Erika. When she met that man’s eyes, she did feel like something brought her here. Which was crazy. Absolutely crazy.
Her friends were right, though. She had to have imagined what she heard. Without looking back to the stage, she turned on her barstool and focused on her beer, paying unusually close attention to peeling off the label. She needed to let this go. Picking up the beer, she took a sip, then grimaced.
She’d liked the wine with dinner better. There, she decided. Everything could be blamed on the wine. She’d been tipsy and just thought she heard that rare, haunting, beautiful music. That was the only reasonable explanation.
It had to be.
Chapter 3
Ren watched the bar from his vantage point on the small stage. People danced and drank and generally acted