She had the feeling they switched topics, but she wasn’t totally sure. She did know that the electricity was back and it was taking every ounce of her self-control not to stand up and walk into his arms.

She wanted to feel him holding her, have his mouth on hers. She wanted him to kiss her as if he couldn’t help himself.

Before she could stand and make her fantasy reality, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Amy clattered into the studio and crossed to the piano.

“Please play for me,” she said.

Claire laughed and pulled her up onto the bench. “How could I refuse? You’re my favorite audience.”

Wyatt watched his daughter snuggle close to Claire, then close her eyes as she rested one hand on top of the piano.

Did she hear anything at all or did she just feel the music?

The beautiful sound filled the studio, vibrating through him. How was it possible for Claire to create that with only her fingers and her memory? Why had she been singled out for her gift? What combination of genes or DNA or God had picked her?

Did it matter? She simply was. Talented, feisty, irresistible. Dangerous. He knew better than to get involved, yet he felt himself being drawn in closer and closer. Did he want to get out while the getting was still relatively easy?

Instead of answering that, he turned his attention to Amy. His beautiful daughter. While he ached at the thought of any part of her being destroyed, he knew he couldn’t deny her what she asked for. The compromise lay in doing only one ear, leaving the other available for future technology. Now she wanted to hear Claire play the piano. In time she would want to hear more of the world. A friend’s laughter. A man’s voice. A baby’s cry.

It wasn’t when or what he would have chosen, but he couldn’t say she was wrong to want that. Like Claire’s music, his daughter was a miracle.

“YOU’RE RESTLESS,” Nicole said after dinner. “Do I want to know what’s wrong?”

“I need to play,” Claire told her. She’d been feeling the urge since her conversation with Wyatt.No, that wasn’t true. She’d been feeling it for a while now. She’d finally admitted it to herself after her talk with Wyatt.

Nicole looked confused. “I thought you were playing before. You had the studio door propped open. I heard you.”

“I mean in public. I have to play for other people.” She held up her hand. “This isn’t about my ego. I don’t need an audience to feel special about myself.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You were scrunchy. You had scrunchy face.”

“I don’t even want to know what that is,” Nicole grumbled. “And hey, I’m sensitive, too. I get it. You need to play in public to figure out if you’ve conquered the panic thing. If you haven’t, you’re totally screwed.” She paused. “I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“Of course not.” Claire sighed. “You’re right, though. I have to fix this stupid panic thing. So I need to play in front of strangers. A lot of strangers.”

“What’s the plan? You could set up shop on a street corner. You might even earn some extra cash in tips.”

Claire ignored that. “I was thinking of a bar. It’s contained, anonymous. Do you know any around here that have pianos or like a talent show or something?”

Nicole picked up one of her crutches and pointed it at Claire. “You are so not going to play in a bar.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not the bar type.”

“I’m not looking for a second career. I just want to practice being in public. So are you going to help me find a good place or do I have to do it by myself.”

Nicole set down the crutch. “Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll give you a couple of names. Are you going by yourself?”

“I’ll be okay. I’m going to order a glass of white wine, ease over to the piano and start playing. What’s the worst that will happen?”

“I don’t want to imagine it. When are you going?”

“Tonight. Right now.”

NICOLE WAITED until she heard Claire’s car backing out of the driveway, then picked up the phone.

“There is a serious problem,” she said when Wyatt answered. “You won’t believe what Claire’s going to do tonight.”She told him, then interrupted his string of swearing by saying, “I know exactly what you mean. Bring Amy over. She can spend the night here. Then you can go and check on Claire. Don’t be obvious about it. Just hang out in the back and make sure she’s all right. I’m sure she’ll be fine—”

“Did she ever tell you about Spike?” he asked, interrupting her.

“Spike who?”

“Some guy at my construction site. Convicted felon, still on parole, tattoos, married. He asked her out and she nearly said yes.”

Nicole’s vague unease shifted to elephant-size worry. “Hurry.”

“I’ll be right there.”

THE GREENWAY TAVERN was better lit than she’d expected, relatively clean and kind of crowded. Claire made her way to the bar, settled on an empty stool and waited for the bartender to make his way to her.

She had no idea if the place was typical or not. There were a couple of pool tables, several televisions showing a baseball game with the sound down, and music playing through speakers in the ceiling. A lone piano stood covered in the far corner of the room.The crowd seemed evenly divided between couples and groups of guys. There weren’t a lot of women on their own. In fact, she couldn’t see any except for a table of them by one of the posts.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Glass of…” She hesitated. She had a feeling this wasn’t much of a white wine kind of place. “Um, a beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine.”

The guy nodded and walked away. Claire had no idea where she’d ever heard about draft beer, but as it had been the right thing to say, she was only grateful.

A couple of guys smiled at her while she waited for her beer. She gave them a slight nod, not wanting to get into conversation. She was here for the pain and nothing else.

When the bartender returned with her beer, he said, “Three bucks.”

She passed him a five. “Would you mind if I played the piano?”

The guy hesitated. “You any good?”

That made her smile. “I’ve taken a few lessons.”

“Sure. But if people complain, you’re going to have to stop.”

Claire was less concerned about anyone’s opinion than having a panic attack of some kind. She’d felt strong for a few weeks now, but she also hadn’t tested herself since the school. While she’d gotten through that performance, it had been by sheer force of will.

She waved for the bartender to keep the change, then picked up her mug and walked toward the piano. As she passed a table, a guy grabbed her hand.

“Want to join me, honey?”

“No, thanks,” she said without looking at him.

She tugged off the cover, then stared at the black upright. There was a coaster on one end and a tip jar on the other.

She sat on the bench and felt her chest tighten. This time there was no Amy to distract or save her. She was going to have to save herself.

Her breathing became more shallow. She deliberately slowed and deepened it, but she still felt as if air wasn’t filling her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t…

“Stop,” she said aloud, not caring if anyone else heard her. “Just stop it”

She was fine. She could breathe and she wasn’t going to die, no matter how it felt otherwise. The only way to get over this was to play until playing was easy again.

Ignoring the tight chest and the sense of panic, she put her hands on the keys and lost herself in the sound.

Rachmaninoff, she thought with a sigh of relief. One of her favorites. It always calmed her. The way the music—

“Hey, lady. Shut the hell up. No one wants to hear that.”

Claire opened her eyes and glanced around to find several people glaring at her. Oops. This wasn’t a Rachmaninoff kind of crowd.

“Sorry,” she said with a smile. “How about this?”

She transitioned into “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel and when that was done, played “Accidentally In Love,” a song she’d adored from the moment she’d heard it in the second Shrek movie.

She played Norah Jones, several popular show tunes and then started taking requests.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed. When she felt her body begin to tremble with exhaustion, she knew it was time to stop. But before she could finish her current song, some guy walked up and put a buck into the empty jar.

“You’ve got yourself some talent there,” he said.

She started to laugh. “Thank you.”

After she finished the last song, she collected her now-warm beer and her dollar, and stood. Several people clapped, a few yelled for her to keep playing. She shook her head. She was tired, but in the best way possible. Weary from her work.

It would take time to heal completely, she thought. Maybe going back into therapy for a few weeks would be a good idea. But she sensed she’d turned a corner. The healing had begun. She might still be afraid, but she wasn’t going to be immobilized anymore.

She walked toward the bar to set down her drink. A guy grabbed her by the wrist. “Want to join me?”

She was about to refuse when every cell in her body went on alert. She glanced down and saw Wyatt.

“What are you doing here?”

“Listening to the show.”

Somehow she doubted that. “And before the show?”

“Seeing if you were going to need any moral support.”

A kind way of saying he’d thought she might need rescuing.

She smiled. “It could have gotten ugly. Thanks for coming by.”

He stood, still holding on to her wrist. “You had them from the second you sat down.”

She looked around at the crowded bar. “Almost.”

“How did it feel to have them all in your power?”

She remembered the flow of the music moving through her, the rightness of creating every note. “Good,” she admitted.

He stared into her eyes. “Amy’s spending the night with Nicole. Want to come over for a drink?”

He was inviting her for a whole lot more than liquor. Her insides tensed slightly at the thought of him touching her again. Kissing her, holding her. She wanted to feel those amazing sensations again. She wanted him inside of her, connecting them.

“I’d like that,” she said.

He took the mug from her hand and set it on the table. “Then let’s go.”

AS THEY WALKED into the house, Claire tried to figure out how to tell Wyatt she wasn’t interested in a drink or polite conversation. What she really wanted was to have him rip her clothes off and have his way with her. She wanted to be taken in the best way possible.

As that conversation hadn’t been covered in any how-to book she’d read, she braced herself for a long, frustrating evening until they got to the good part.But instead of heading to the kitchen or even the family room, Wyatt took her hand and started upstairs. Once in his bedroom, he turned to her, pulled her close and began to kiss her.

She’d thought about teasing that she was actually thirsty, but what was the point? There wasn’t anywhere she wanted to be except in his arms. Preferably na**d.

He stroked his tongue against her lower lip and she parted for him. As he deepened the kiss, he tugged at her shirt, pulling it out of her jeans and going to work on the buttons. At the same time, she reached for him, which meant they bumped more than unbuttoned. When she clipped him with her elbow, she pulled back.

“This is dangerous,” she said.

He grinned. “You’re lethal. Tell you what. I’ll race you.”

“What?”

Instead of answering, he undid his shirt, then shrugged it off. “You’re losing,” he said.

She shrieked. “I have more clothes on than you.”

“Always an excuse.”

She jerked the blouse over her head as she kicked off her sandals. She undid her bra and pushed off her jeans and panties in one, quick shove. Then she straightened only to find him still dressed.

“Hey!”

His smile faded as hunger replaced amusement. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

He grabbed her and pulled her against him. She went willingly, wanting to feel his hands on her. She wanted it all—the touching, the stroking, the intensity as he took her to paradise and back.

They tumbled onto the bed. Wyatt rolled her onto her back and leaned over her, then bent down and kissed her. Even as their tongues touched and played, he ran his fingers down her belly. She happily parted her thighs.

He slipped between her legs and immediately found that one special spot. He rubbed it lightly, making her squirm to get more. Harder, she thought. Faster.

She soon discovered he had his own agenda. Instead of listening to her psychic commands, he continued to kiss her. Then he moved lower and took her ni**les in his mouth, which turned out to be very nice. She had to admit the combination of him sucking on her br**sts while touching between her thighs worked in a big way.

Jolts of sensation shot through her. She got hot all over and her breathing quickened. She recognized the rising tension, the pulsing of her muscles and sank into the bed to enjoy the ride.

Then Wyatt stopped.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

He touched her nose. “I want to try something.”

“Another woman? I don’t think I’m up for a threesome.”