His tongue flicked out, swept along her finger, “I stand on the stage night after night, performing, surrounded by people who do not know me. I have a need for space. Is it so wrong, after giving the best I have to give, to ask for that space? I do not harm them, merely ask for consideration.”
Corinne smiled down at him. “I’m asking for consideration for Lisa. Give her time. She’ll come to accept you. She wants me to be happy. If I’m happy, she’ll be happy with my choice.”
“Am I your choice, Corinne?” Dayan nibbled at her finger, his teeth teasing her, sending tiny flames dancing over her skin.
“And you’re arrogant as well as ruthless,” she pointed out.
“You may as well add that I am a thief to the long list of my sins, since you are taking an inventory of them.” He slid his hand inside his shirt and pulled out a small notebook. “I could not possibly leave C. J. Wentworth songs behind. You left this treasure sitting in the middle of your bed.”
Corinne had to look away from his mesmerizing gaze. He was a miracle, a genius with music, yet he was complimenting her work. She knew she was glowing. How could she not? Praising her music was one of the highest compliments Dayan could give her.
“Silly – ” His voice was tender. He lifted his head to kiss her soft mouth gently. “You must know I am hoping you will join our band. What an asset you would be. You are capable of playing several instruments, and your songwriting is wonderful.”
“I’m nowhere near being a legend as you are,” she said, “but thank you for such high praise.”
“I have been lying here beside you reading your beautiful lyrics. I watched you sleeping, Corinne, and wondered what I had ever done in my life to deserve you.”
Warmth spread deep inside her at his softly spoken words. “I write what’s in my heart, about all the things that matter in life. All the things we encounter. There’s such beauty all around us, Dayan. Everyone has to cope with everyday problems. Finances, sickness, even death, loving someone who doesn’t love us back.” She twisted the ring on her finger. “But we can still live life, see the beauty everywhere around us. It’s there for the taking. That’s what I try to write about in my music. Hope in the midst of heartache. Joy in the midst of pain. Experience life – don’t watch it passing by.”
Dayan reached out and gently took her hand, brought it to his mouth in a tribute. “I have never met anyone who lives life with the fullness you do, Corinne. And already, you have shown me such wonders. I look at something small, like the leaves on the trees, and find they are more beautiful than I had ever imagined.”
“Leaves shine silver in the moonlight,” she said. “I often sit in my backyard and watch the way the breeze makes them glitter at night when the moon is out.” She lay back shivering, cuddling closer to him as if the talk of being outdoors chilled her. “It’s cold in here.” She beckoned with her hand toward the cupboard. The double doors flew open and a thick quilt tumbled out. It rippled like a magic carpet as it floated across the room and spread itself over them.
It wasn’t cold, but her body was not regulating its temperature properly. Dayan suppressed the apprehension shimmering in his mind. He forced a smile. “You are showing off, Corinne. You are supposed to be sleeping and gaining strength, but instead, you are waving your hands about and making blankets dance in the air.”
Her breath fanned his neck. Warm. Intriguing. Tempting. She laughed very softly, the sound joyful in the stillness of the room. Suddenly his smile was real. “At night when I was very young, I used to imagine myself flying on a magic carpet. I didn’t dare set the blankets floating; I was afraid I would get caught.”
“So what did you do instead?” he asked.
“I read, of course. Everything I could get my hands on. Books could take me to all the places I never could go on my own.” She traced the indentation in his chin. “I’ve read so many books – fiction, nonfiction, encyclopedias, anything I could get my hands on. And I had the music.”