Sun & Moon - a contemporary romance (The Minstrel Series #1) (21 page)

“It helps to set a timer,” Micah added, winking. “Especially if you find yourself distracted by a song demanding to be written or a picture insisting on being sketched.” He set the timer and then handed her a spoon. “You need to stir it once in a while.”

Micah pulled the tin lid off a small plastic container. “Now to add crème and a bit of salt and pepper to the vegetables.”

Katja found it increasingly difficult to pull her gaze away from her teacher. Men who knew their way around a kitchen were sexy. Her pulse jumped as she watched him, and she felt herself flush. “So, what’s left?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

“The cheese. Many people like Parmesan, but I prefer sheep cheese. It adds a nice tang.” He sliced a piece off the block and handed it to Katja. “You can grate it.”

Micah produced a grater, and Katja began the process of shredding the cheese onto a plate. Micah made no attempt to hide the fact he was staring at her.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

“I want to kiss you.”

She dropped the cheese and dared to glance at him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He stepped closer, forcing her to back up against the counter. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Oh, Lord, she really wanted him to kiss her, but it was still a really, really bad idea. Her pulse raged, and her body flooded with warmth. Her throat grew dry. Maybe just one kiss. She heard herself say, “Perhaps it’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Yes it was! What was she thinking? It was a terrible, terrible idea!

He pressed his mouth to her ear, his breath causing tremors that would break the Richter scale. “Admit it. It’s an incredible idea.”

She gulped, wanting nothing more than to grab him by the shirt and pull him to her. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” she whispered.

“Not so bad works for me.” Micah’s lips found hers, and Katja was sure the kitchen floor had cracked open. She was falling, helpless. She grabbed his head and returned the kiss, urgently taking him in. She wrapped a leg around him, and he grabbed her thigh. She wanted to tear his shirt off and drag him to his room.

Then she remembered his force field.

And her own oath to leave.

She’d told him he had until Tuesday to change her mind, and here she was sucking his lips off on Monday night.

Did she have no willpower at all? Had she changed her mind about what she should do so easily? Tomorrow, she’d still be the poor girl chasing a dream, and he’d still be the rich boy with every advantage. And with a domineering mother who scared the crap out of her. Frau Sturm would always be trying to break them up, and eventually she would win. She and Micah had too much working against them.

She had to be stronger than this.

She placed a palm against his chest and pushed gently. “Micah…”

He tapped a finger to her lips. “You promised me until Tuesday.”

“That’s tomorrow.”

“Then I have you until tomorrow.”

She quivered under his touch. She would leave tomorrow, but she knew beyond a doubt that Micah would have her heart for much longer. She ran fingers along the roughness of his jaw, drank in his face, his eyes, the curls on his head. She was memorizing him. Something told her she’d be living in this moment forever.

“I love you, Katja.”

Her heart stopped. Then she kissed him again and didn’t quit until the timer went.

They ate dinner by candlelight and spent the night curled up together on the sofa bed. Micah remained in control, and she was glad he’d enforced a slow pace. Especially since she still didn’t know if staying with him was the right thing to do.

Tuesday arrived, and even though she went through the motions of packing, she didn’t leave. It wasn’t a clear win for Micah, and they both knew it. Despite their passion, Katja wasn’t convinced she’d made the right choice, yet the longer she stayed the deeper she sank. By the weekend, she knew she was a prisoner to Micah, no matter what his rules were, no matter how torn her heart would be when the end came.

Saturday brought a welcome diversion from her emotional torment in the form of Jonas’s art festival. It was held outdoors at the foot of the pedestrian zone called
Neustädter Markt
by the Golden Horseman statue. Katja had gotten hired to play music on a small stage while people meandered through the artwork and crafts displayed there.

It was within walking distance from their flat, and Micah insisted on carrying her guitar. “It makes me feel cool,” he joked.

Katja laughed. “It makes you look cool.”

He purposefully bumped into her. “Then I’ll just have to carry it for you all the time.”

It was a warm, sunny day with clear blue skies, and the fair was full of people taking in the show. Jonas waved her over when he saw her.

“Hey, Jonas,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” Jonas beamed his boyish grin. “Already sold one painting.”

“That’s great,” Katja said. She motioned to Micah. “This is …” Again, she didn’t know what to call him and settled for just his name. “Micah.”

They shook hands and Katja looked around for Renata. “Is your mother here?”

“Not yet. She’ll stop by later.”

Katja took a moment to look at Jonas’s work before setting up. “He’s good,” she said to Micah. He nodded his head. “Who knew there were so many talented people in the world?” He squeezed her shoulders. “Here I thought you were the only one.”

She swatted his arm. “You’re such a sap.”

He laughed. “Do you need any help?”

“It’s just me and my guitar. I think I can manage, but thanks.”

The small stage had a sound system set up. The guy managing it ran her through a short sound check. “It’s all yours,” he said.

“I’m going to be here a while,” Katja said to Micah.

“I’ll have a look around and then go home,” he said. “We’ll meet up later?”

She nodded and took the stage, sitting on the stool provided there. She’d play mostly instrumentals, unless a group gathered wanting to listen to her sing. She was fine either way. She smiled as she watched Jonas chatting up admirers of his work. Though young and geeky looking, he had a self-confidence and charm that would go a long way. Renata had done a good job.

Micah caught her eye and pointed at a canvas. Katja nodded and mouthed,
It’s good
. Micah smiled and surprised her by picking it up and handing several bills to Jonas.

She watched as he walked away with a new painting under his arm. She loved that he supported Jonas by purchasing one.

She loved
him
.

It was true. She was hopelessly snared. Ignoring the truth wouldn’t change it. She felt surprisingly light about her admission. A smile threatened to take over her face. She chewed on her lip ring and tried to stay focused on her playing.

She spotted another familiar face in the crowd. Maurice was there, checking out the pottery. It was strange to see him around town milling about. She only ever saw him at the Blue Note. He followed the music and eventually spotted the source. He drew closer.

“Ma Cherie
,” he called out. “I should’ve known it was you. You play exquisitely.”

She laughed and blew him a kiss.

If only Renata were here. She’d love to introduce them. Maurice and Renata had become two of her most favorite people.

Katja finished her two-hour set and collected her pay. Micah wasn’t home when she got back, and she felt the emptiness. He hadn’t mentioned his plans for the day, only that they’d meet up later. She put her guitar away and rested on the sofa.

The art show had inspired her so she pulled her sketch pad out. Her eyes were drawn to the sketch of Micah that hung on the formerly locked door. She lifted herself from her cross-legged position on the sofa and carefully removed the drawing, taking it into the bathroom where she stood staring at her image in the mirror.

She poised her pencil over the shadowy area beside the drawing of Micah’s head and began to rapidly pencil in the lines of her face. She made her eyes bright and her mouth turned up with amusement. Her image looked mischievous and happy, her gaze directed at Micah.

She propped up the sketch and stood back to examine it. Yes, it said what she wanted it to say, that she admired and adored him. She signed it:
I love you, K,
and hung it back up on the door.

She fell asleep on the sofa and awoke to Micah lifting her legs and sitting down under them.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said. He took one of her feet and rubbed it.

“Oh, that feels good.”

“I knew you were keeping me around for something.” He switched to the other one.

“I thought you were keeping me around.”

Her eyes darted to the revised sketch on the wall, and Micah followed her gaze. He slipped out from under her, walked over to view it and tilted his head. His hand went to his chin and he rubbed the shadow of his beard. “Hmm. It’s charming, yet bold. The artist has a way with a pencil, crafting shadow and light. Brilliant, actually.”

Katja laughed at Micah’s poor attempt at mimicking an art critic. “I’m glad you like it.”

His dark, simmering gaze locked with hers. “I don’t just like it. I
love
it.”

Katja blushed and pursed her lips to suppress a girlish giggle.

Micah returned and pulled her up onto his lap. His lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “I think you should kiss me now. Kiss me good.”

She reached for his face, tracing his jaw with her fingertip, and met his lips with hers. They were warm and soft, and she trembled as his tongue played with her lip ring. He ran his fingers lightly over her temples, and she responded in kind, holding his head, and running fingers through his curls. She pulled back to gaze at his face and lost herself in the love she saw there. Then she tucked herself under his arm, feeling safe and secure—something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Are you getting hungry?” he asked.

“A little.”

“I’m starved. Let’s start dinner.”

They’d been cooking together since her first lesson, and every night Micah taught her something new.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” she asked.

“Something simple. Mushroom soup. Just add water.”

Micah paused at the table and picked up the fruit bowl that was nearly overflowing with coins and bills from Katja’s earnings. “This is not your usual center piece.” He handed it to Katja. “Please take this to your bank.”

Katja shook her head. “It’s my contribution to the rent.”

“Katja, I have enough money. I had no problem paying the rent before you came.”

“What about groceries?”

“I also ate before you came. And you don’t exactly eat that much. Besides, I prefer your company to eating alone. You’re doing me a favor.”

Katja sighed and accepted the bowl. “Thank you.”

Micah smiled. “No problem. I need somewhere to put the fruit.”

Katja had the morning shift the next day and she made sure to leave with enough time to get there early. She enjoyed having time to make small talk with Renata before jumping into the fray of taking orders, foaming milk, cleaning the display case and wiping tables. She loved the aroma that hit her face as she walked in the door. Sweet scents of sugar and cinnamon combined with the stronger, stark aroma of rich, fresh brewed coffee.

She greeted Renata as she tied on her apron. “I missed seeing you yesterday.”

“It was so busy here. I couldn’t get away until later. You were already gone when I arrived, but Jonas said you were wonderful.”

“Your son’s a good artist,” Katja said.

“And a good person,” Renata added. “That is the most important thing.” She clasped Katja’s hand. “And how are you?”

Katja had shared some details about the disastrous trip to Berlin and her following encounter with Micah’s antagonistic mother. Renata was also aware of her cautious reconciliation with Micah.

Katja smiled reassuringly. “Things are fine. Good really.”

“Ah, I’m so glad.”