Isabeau leaned against the bar, eyes closed, absorbing the welcome silence.  The total, absolute silence…that wasn’t.  For the first time since she’d reopened the bar, no music played while she prepared for the lunch crowd.  It would have been too much to handle what with the music in her head already at an earsplitting level.

            The relentless, unavoidable rhythm kept her from getting any sleep the night before, and today, it threatened to sour her mood.  Nothing helped, not her morning run, a hot shower, or even the tapping of her fingers against the polished chestnut bar.

            The source of her pain was obvious.  The return of the man brought about the return of the music.  It ebbed and it swelled from allegro to adagio, fortissimo to pianissimo.  It wouldn’t stop and it was not to be ignored.  But ignore it she must.  She had no choice.

            She raised her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose and pleaded with whatever God listened to make it stop.

            The door squeaked as it swung inward.  The echo of boots upon the wood floor drew nearer then stopped.

            Isabeau wondered just what she’d done to deserve this.

            “I’m not going to say it,” she mumbled before gaining the strength to open her eyes and focus on him.  “You never listen anyway.”

            His mouth curved into an irresistibly devastating grin that everything that was female in her responded to.  She watched him stride the rest of the way to the bar, his every movement fluid and easy.  Confident.  Naturally sexy.  His lean, rangy body was clad in snug, worn jeans and a black tee.  Jeans so worn and faded that only their seams gave hint to their original color.  Jeans that rode low on his hips, cupping his sex as tightly as a hand.

            Her body reacted before she could steel herself against it.  A burst of heat snapped along her nerves.  Her pulse raced.  She was staring.  She knew she was staring but she couldn’t stop.

            Noah moved, sliding onto the stool directly before her, so that suddenly their gazes locked.  She waited for him to speak, to say something to break this spell that had come over her.  He remained silent, just sitting there watching her with those eyes that seemed to see right into her.

            As he leaned forward, casually resting his forearms atop the bar, she took a step backward.  Already the warm, masculine scent of him, which she recognized as uniquely his, swirled around her, muddling her thinking.

            “Would you—“  She heard the husky quality of her voice and cleared her throat.  “Would you like something to drink?”    

            “Water.”

            He did things to her, made her wish for things that could never be.  Whether it was his effect on her body or his effect on her head, his sudden reappearance in her life was not going to be easy for her to handle.  She would have to come up with a way to discourage these impromptu visits of his.  Maybe discourage all visits altogether.  Let him find a different place to unwind.

            “Headache?”

            Isabeau looked at him questioningly as she placed his water before him.

            “You keep rubbing your temple,” he explained.

            She did?  “Is Dominic feeling better today?”

            “I haven’t seen him.  We’re meeting at the studio up the street in about an hour.”

            “You’re in town to record?”

            “Yes.”

            “It’s a nice studio.  Pete’s a good guy.”  Why was she making conversation when she was supposed to be working on a plan to get him to leave?

            Mentally rolling her eyes at herself, Isabeau started to turn away when she noticed he held something in his hand.  A compact disc, her name in bold script across the front.

            Following the direction of her gaze, Noah placed the disc atop the bar.  “You sent this to me.”

            “I did,” she admitted.

            “Why?”

            “Why?”  She didn’t know why, hadn’t taken the time to think about the reasons behind her actions.  She’d just slipped the case from her collection upstairs, boxed it up and sent it to his manager.  It surprised her to see that he’d even received it.

            “You didn’t have it,” was the best she could come up with.

            A look of contemplation crossed his face.  “And I needed it because…it’s the most important one?”

            “It’s hard to find.  They didn’t make very many of that one.”

            He nodded as if he accepted her simple answer, even though she was certain he didn’t.  “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            He studied her for a moment before his gaze dropped, came to rest on her hands so near his atop the bar.  Isabeau held her breath and waited for him to comment or question, as people were inclined to do when they first noticed her scars or two missing fingernails.  Noah did neither.  Instead, his hand shifted closer, settled next to hers.  His thumb lifted, ran along the pale, jagged line of the largest of her scars.

            The trembling started in her legs and worked up her body.  She recoiled instinctively and automatically, tucking her hand into her front pocket and out of view.

            Noah frowned.  “You look tired today, Isabeau.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Do you ever take a day off?”

            With the abrupt change of subject, she was able to regain a bit of her composure.  “Yes.”

            “What do you do on your day off?”

            “What do I do?”

            “Do you go to the movies?  Into Manhattan?  Do you go shopping?”  Noah’s lips curved when she wrinkled her brow in confusion.  “It’s not a trick question, Isa.  What do you do to relax?”

            “Why do you ask?”

            “I’m curious.”

            “I like to go to Astoria, to the restaurants,” she confided.

            Noah cocked his head and regarded her for a moment.  “Isn’t that a lot like being here?”

            “Not really.  I don’t have to cook the meals there, just enjoy them.”

            “You never feel like getting away from the noise and the crowds?”

            “I like the noise.”

            “Do you?” he asked quietly, his voice edged with disbelief.  “Or do you just hate the silence?”

            The room was suddenly devoid of air.  She couldn’t breathe.  She could barely speak.  “Why would I?”

            “That’s a very good question.”

            Isabeau stood motionless, her palms damp, muscles stiff as cardboard.  She let out a pent-up breath, praying the answer to that question was something Noah never discovered.

            Immediately on the defensive, she asked tightly, “Why are you here?”  Her tone was sharp and accusing.  “It’s not for the water and I doubt it’s for the company.”

            “Why wouldn’t it be for the company?”

            That gave her pause, but only for a moment.  “I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

            “I prefer people to be who they are.”

            She wanted to believe him, longed to lose herself in his eyes and forget everything else.  Forget the lies and deceptions and just be.  For once in the thirteen years since her mother’s death, to just be.  But she’d lived the lie for far too long to go back now.  Her entire life was built upon it.

            “I can’t be the person you want me to be,” she repeated.

            A look of tired sadness passed over his features.  “Isabeau—“

            “There’s nothing for you here.”

            Noah shook his head regretfully.  “You said that once before.”  He stood, picked up the disc.  “I didn’t agree with you then and I don’t agree with you now, but I can take a hint.”

            Her gaze tracked him as he turned and started for the door, stopped.  “You know, I’m not asking for much, just a chance to get to know you.”  His voice lowered, barely carried to her.  “I wish you’d give me that chance.”

            Noah remained just inside the doors, waiting.  Hand now clenched against her thigh, Isabeau struggled to absorb his admission.  By the time she found her voice, he was gone.