He pushed the box toward her, more affected by her simple endorsement than he cared to show. "Open it, Lia … it's nothing much."
She took the box and flipped the lid up. Earrings, each a single, multifaceted diamond, flashed colored fire in a bed of black velvet. "They're gorgeous," she exclaimed. "But-"
"They reminded me of you." His crooked smile made her, inexplicably, want to weep. "When you feel passionately about something, even your hair seems to spark."
She blurted, "I should have believed you about the letters without having to have proof-I'm truly sorry I didn't."
"You're forgiven," he said lightly.
Lia took a deep breath. "The earrings are lovely, Seth, I'll be happy to wear them tonight … thank you."
He kissed her again. "Too many sexy paintings in this room-you'd better go. I'll stay here for a while and read the paper. Auf Wiedersehen, beautiful Lia."
Her cheeks were bright scarlet, clashing with her outfit. She made a sound that would have translated in any language as humph, and walked out of the coffeehouse with perfect aplomb.
A foolish smile plastered on his face, Seth sat down again. He'd given a woman diamonds, revealed a lifelong secret and agreed to go to a concert. None of these behaviors was typical of him.
And he was going to leave the reception with Lia.
The professor hadn't said she couldn't have sex after the concert.
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER the intermission, the orchestra tuned their instruments, then silence fell over the house. Seth sat still in his box seat, his eyes glued to the stage, which was crowded with tuxedoed musicians. He felt as nervous as if it were he who was about to play.
All this time Lia had been waiting backstage. How did she stand it?
In a tap of high heels Lia walked out onto the stage, followed by Ivor Rosnikov and the conductor. She was wearing a smoky purple satin dress with inserts in the full-length skirt that were filled with tiny pleats; they kicked out as she moved. Her bare arms were pale as ivory, her hair drawn back severely from her face. The diamond earrings he'd given her sparkled in her lobes.
The conductor adjusted the score, Rosnikov settled himself at his cello, and after a quick glance at his two soloists, the conductor raised his baton. The orchestra played the first somber, flowing notes. Seth sat very still, waiting. Lia, also waiting, looked indrawn and remote.
Why would she need him, Seth, when she had her music? She'd never fall in love with him; at least he was safe from that complication.
As the orchestra fell silent, Rosnikov began to play a rich, sonorous melody. Lia raised her bow and joined him, the two instruments separating only to blend, blending only to separate. She and Ivor, Seth saw in an uprush of heated and primitive emotion, were also completely in tune with each other, making frequent eye contact in a way that seemed to him immensely intimate.
He, Seth, could never share such intimacy with Lia; he was, in comparison with Ivor Rosnikov, a musical ignoramus.
The cellist was, subtly, both more handsome and younger-looking in the flesh than in his publicity photos. The emotion that was surging through Seth was jealousy.
He'd never in his life been jealous of another man. For a very simple reason: he'd never cared enough about a woman to feel jealous.
Lia was different. Hadn't he known that from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her?
The wonderfully lyrical second movement swept to its conclusion, followed by a joyful finale that brought a smile to Lia's face; it was achingly obvious that she was doing exactly what she'd been born to do. The final triumphant chords filled the magnificent hall; there was an instant of total and respectful silence before the audience erupted into a storm of applause.
Lia and Ivor had linked hands; the conductor stepped down from the podium, kissing Lia on the cheek. Ivor then leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth, his hands clasping her waist. Seth's fingers dug into his palms. How dare he?
Not that Lia looked as though she was objecting to this public display of-what? Affection? Mutual achievement? Or just plain sex? Rosnikov's dark locks and romantically pale face had women flocking to him the length of Europe. Why should Lia be immune?
The last thing Seth wanted to do was stand around at a stuffy reception watching Ivor Rosnikov drape himself all over Lia; and simultaneously having to subdue the urge to throttle, publicly, a world-famous cellist. Would Lia even miss him if he didn't go? He very much doubted that she would.
He, Seth, was superfluous to her world. That was what he'd learned tonight by attending her concert. But was running away from that world an option?
He'd never been one to back down from a challenge. Seth went to the reception, where he downed a glass of inferior champagne and disdained to join the crowd that eddied around Lia and Ivor, and that included members of the media whose flashlights went off with monotonous regularity. The whole time, the cellist's arm lay over Lia's bare shoulders. Throttling Rosnikov began to seem entirely too merciful. For the sake of his sanity, Seth wandered over to a group of acquaintances on the far side of the room, stood with his back to Lia and talked about the economy as though his life depended on it.
Gradually the crowd thinned. Then, behind him, Seth heard the click of heels on the marble floor. As he turned, Lia said, "Ivor, I'd like you to meet my friend, Seth Talbot … as I mentioned, Seth and I are going out together after the reception. Seth, Ivor Rosnikov."
Seth had to admire her gall. He smiled at the cellist and produced some conventional words of congratulation about the concert. "How is it you know Lia?" Ivor asked in his heavily accented English.
"We met some time ago," Seth said casually. "Though we've seen nothing of each other for years."
"Yet you take her out tonight?"
"Yes," said Seth, "I'm taking her out tonight."
"Then I am-how do you say?-the loser," Ivor said, and with elaborate gallantry raised Lia's hand to his lips. "I will see you in Hamburg the day after tomorrow, liebchen," he said, smiling deep into her eyes. Baring his teeth at Seth, he added, "You will look after her. Late hours are not good."
"I'm sure Lia is quite capable of deciding how late she'll stay out," Seth said amicably. Punching the guy on the nose instead of throttling him wouldn't do, either. Bad publicity for all concerned.
Ten minutes later, he and Lia were walking into the cool of a spring night outside the imposing terra-cotta and cream façade of Musikverein. She glanced around to check that they were alone. "Where are we going?"
"Do you want highbrow, lowbrow or somewhere in between?"
"Middle. With grub and a dance floor."
"Okay. Want to walk?"
"Providing it's not halfway across Vienna, yes." Falling into step beside him, yet preserving a careful distance between them, Lia added, "What did you think of the concert?"
"You played extraordinarily well," he said truthfully.
"I missed a note in the 54th bar of the third movement."
"I didn't notice," he said dryly.
"You didn't like Ivor."
"Any more than Ivor liked me."
"You looked like a couple of roosters about to square off."
She looked as belligerent as a rooster herself. "How long were you his lover?" Seth asked. "Or are you still?"
"What are you-the lawyer for the prosecution?"
"You sure weren't objecting to being kissed by him in full view of two thousand people."
It had been a very long day. "What was I supposed to do?" Lia retorted. "Whack him with my violin?"
"Is he a good lover?"
"I wouldn't know-since I've never been his lover. Apart from anything else, his ego's so big there'd be no room for me."
"You and I are in perfect agreement on that point," Seth growled, and smothered a relief strong enough for ten men.
Lia stopped on the sidewalk, her dark eyes level. "You congratulated Ivor for his playing. But I had to ask before you'd tell me what you thought about mine."
He'd hurt her; that was what she was saying. "You think I was going to bare my soul in front of that Paganini lookalike?"
"So bare it now."
"Dammit, Lia, I felt the way I always feel when you play-only more so because you were right there in front of me. The club we're going to is just down here."
She planted her feet. "Keep talking-how do you always feel?"
"As though you know me through and through. As though all my defenses are useless and my soul an open book. Is that what you want to know?" he said furiously.