The Second Movement

Bella stared out the window across from her desk, watching the winter rain pound the glass. Seattle weather was at its gloomiest at the most wonderful time of the year, but it couldn't douse the small yet distinct feeling at the pit of her stomach. She was excited.

Normally, Bella would be edgy before meeting with artists, because they often had wholly impractical musical choices for their CD and she had to talk them down from the trees. It was a negotiation process fraught with only slightly less tension than Middle Eastern peace talks, often with a reduced chance of agreement.

Today, Bella looked forward to it. She was eager to see what Edward wanted to include. His selections would reveal a lot about his own preferences, and Bella wanted to know more about them. And she was very anxious to discuss music with him. Just being able to explore his insights on composers and songs made her feel more alive than she had in ages.

She skimmed through the documents in the folder she'd created for suggestions and recommendations. Bella had even conferred with Carlisle, knowing how much respect Edward had for his talent and experience. Except for one suggestion, Carlisle deferred to her own capabilities and told her to let him know what they came up with. He said she and Edward would do better on their own.

Bella wondered about that.

She met Edward in the lobby, anticipation weaving through her like a vine. He looked the same, but different, Bella thought in surprise. His features were still astonishingly flawless, but they were less guarded. He looked at her with recognition now, and it softened his expression.

They made small talk as they rode the elevator, with Edward stealing frequent glances and Bella looking resolutely at the floor. Her earlier confidence seemed subdued by nervousness – or what he assumed was nervousness. He liked what it did to the apples of her cheeks, making them flame brighter whenever she sensed he was looking at her.

She gestured toward the conference room down the hall. "We have a good sound system here with a huge library if we want to listen to particular compositions."

The room was appointed with a large table and comfortable chairs. Though Edward would have preferred to sit next to her, he grabbed a chair across the table and spread out his handwritten notes for the meeting. Without asking, Bella placed a bottle of water next to him, and he glanced up at her in appreciation.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, pausing with a carafe in one hand and a mug in another.

"No, thanks," he said distractedly. His hands moved frequently of their own volition, as if searching for keys to play.

"A Seattle native who turns down a cup of coffee? You've been living on the East Coast for too long," Bella said teasingly.

Edward smiled at her effort to put him at ease. "I've had a few cups this morning, and since people seem to think I'm already high-strung, I thought it best if I decline."

"Really?" she said, sliding into her chair opposite him. "I wouldn't have thought that. You seem fairly contemplative."

"Only between freakouts."

Bella laughed, peals of full-bodied delight. "I've managed my share of those. I don't see you as the type to throw epic temper tantrums."

"I don't do it publicly. I leave that to my students," he said, grinning.

"Are they that bad?" she said curiously.

"No, I'm being facetious," he said, still smiling. "The quality of students you get at a place like Curtis – you really don't have to worry about that sort of thing. "

"It's an excellent school – among the best of its kind," Bella said cordially.

"Absolutely," Edward said with a firm nod of his head. "I couldn't really consider teaching anywhere else. Not anywhere that wasn't on the same level."

Bella raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure there are outstanding students at schools all over," she said.

"Not of this caliber. The top tier students go to the top tier schools, and that's really all there is to it," he replied in an offhand manner.

It took an extra few seconds for Bella to realize what she'd heard. She blinked, hard. That snobbish remark put a few cracks in his perfect veneer, and it hurt. She was disappointed, almost to the point of feeling sick.

"I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree on that," she said shortly. Edward frowned, catching the change in her tone. He could tell he'd angered her somehow, and he realized too late that his words may have sounded judgmental.

"Not that there aren't good music students elsewhere," he added hastily.

"Of course," Bella responded smoothly. She couldn't resist adding, "Some of them may even be fortunate enough to encounter you some day."

Edward had the vague feeling he'd been insulted, though her demeanor stayed polite.

I'm going to do my damndest to forget this part of our conversation. Bella managed a smile and promptly changed the subject. "Let's get started," she said. "I have some ideas, but I'd like to hear what you think first."

Edward sensed she was throwing him a lifesaver. He nodded and cleared his throat. "I've thought about this a great deal in the past few months, ever since I wrote that letter to Carlisle. I think I've got it narrowed down."

He explained that he wanted to include Liszt's "Mephisto," the very selection he'd played that guaranteed his contract, and to his relief, Bella readily agreed. He wasn't a precise judge of women's moods, but it seemed like she was willing to move past the exchange that annoyed her five minutes ago.

Edward brought up some of his favorite Bach – "French Suite No. 3" and "English Suite No. 6," and Bella nodded her head thoughtfully. "They're lively, energetic – they'll showcase your talent very nicely," she said. They discussed some other Bach selections before settling on the "Adagio after Marcello."

To Edward's surprise, Bella then suggested including some Beethoven and Brahms into the mix.

"I wouldn't want to see you pigeonholed as a pianist who plays only one or two composers. We need to show your versatility," she explained.

Edward looked somewhat taken aback, as if this hadn't occurred to him, and Bella again got the distinct feeling that he hadn't planned everything out very well. His knowledge of professional recording seemed limited.

Most artists would have explored this thoroughly, if only by seeing what other musicians in the same genre had on their recordings. Considering that research should be second-nature to Edward, who was a PhD student, Bella was rather confused.

She was still indignant over his casual snobbishness, and it gave her enough nerve to bring a few things out in the open. "Edward, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he responded so carefully that Bella knew he wasn't sure at all.

"Do you really want to do this? Do you really want to record this CD? "

He looked astonished, and Bella held her breath. She may have taken things a bit too far by insulting a very important new artist - one whom her boss especially took a shine to.

"Why would you ask me that?" Edward said warily.

"There have been some times during this process where it hasn't seemed as if you've really thought things through. And I get the sense that's not your normal way of doing things," she said gently. "I can see how much music means to you. I know you want to do this right. Yet you came to us without obtaining any suitable legal representation. And while you're self-assured about your own skills, you haven't looked at the bigger picture and considered what to offer the classical music lovers of the world – the ones who'll be buying this CD."

Edward looked away and felt a blush creep along his neck. She'd seen his inexperience as thoroughly as if he'd worn it, like a shirt.

But when he looked back up into Bella's eyes, he saw no judgment there, only genuine concern and curiosity. He might have assumed that Bella was trying to protect the company's investment, but her steady gaze had more depth than that. And in some ways, it was a relief to have her see through him, as if he didn't have to hide from her.

He felt compelled to tell her the truth.

"This wasn't my idea; it's true," he admitted. "But I do want this wholeheartedly." He paused to think of how to explain it to her.

"My mother has been my inspiration and my biggest supporter in my musical career," he said. "My father –well, he views it as more of a hobby. Or, he thinks it should be a hobby. He thinks I should have more gainful employment." A look of disgust, then pain darkened Edward's features.

Bella wondered how a committed industrialist like Edward Masen II dealt with having an artistic genius for a son. Not well, she surmised.

At once, so much of Edward fell into place right in front of her. The wealthy young man who was never seen at the same glittering events as his parents; the doctoral student who also labored as a teacher clear across the country from his family; the pianist with the strongest intuitive aptitude for music she'd ever witnessed, who just showed up on the company doorstep – he'd had his own share of struggles. He'd come from a background of privilege, but it was not without its price.

"My mother and I are very close," he continued. "She's been ill, and it's not entirely clear she's going to recover. She's always wanted this for me. I want to give this to her, for all she's done for me."

And with that, Bella felt herself soften once more. She could see the pain he was in, and it made it that much easier to forgive his earlier words – the careless ones that cut to the heart of the education she had to settle for.

"So you're doing this for her," she said quietly.

Edward blew out a heavy breath. "Honestly? Mostly, I am. It's like a big part of her dream for me. She thinks it's very prestigious. All I want to do is compose and teach. And play," he said simply.

Bella nodded. She understood the necessity of doing things that weren't part of the plan while your true calling waited in the wings. And she knew all too well how the ties that bound you to your parents also restricted your own hands.

"I know how you feel. My mother died a while ago, and if I was in your situation, I would feel the same," she said emotionally.

Edward regarded her with deep compassion. "I'm so sorry. That's a really hard loss," he said, then added, "I can't bear to think about it."

Impulsively, Bella reached over the table and covered his hand with her own. "I really hope your mom does well. I'm sure she's so proud of you. Let's give her a CD that she'll really love."

Edward moved so his palm was up and he could hold Bella's warm hand in his own. "Thank you," he whispered. She nodded mutely while his green-eyed gaze held her own. After a few more seconds, she glanced away.

Then she couldn't help it - she had to look at Edward again. He hadn't stopped staring at her, and she wanted so much to keep this moment right here, as it was, even if it had its start in sorrowful memories. Reluctantly, she cleared her throat.

"Let's get back to this," she said, gesturing to the notes they'd been taking. "We were talking about how it's important to have some variety on your album."

There was one idea that Carlisle had given her prior to this meeting. Thankfully, she hadn't put it on the table yet, and she now saw it as a way to cheer Edward up.

"I have another suggestion that was made by Carlisle. He'd like to duet with you on 'The Planets.' Are you interested?"

Bella's heart lifted when she saw the joy return to Edward's eyes. "Carlisle wants to play the Holst pieces with me? On the CD?"

"That's right." She smiled in response to his huge grin.

"Yes. Yes! Damn, that would be amazing. Bella, thank you! You made my day!"

She blushed and ducked her head. "Thank Carlisle. He doesn't usually make this kind of offer to our artists. He has a lot of faith in you."

"I'm floored," Edward said. "He's played with some of the best artists there've ever been."

"I think you'll duet beautifully together. It'll be an outstanding piece to include on this CD, and one that people will appreciate for years to come."

They turned the discussion back to other musical selections, and finally settled on Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor and Brahms' Intermezzo No. 2. These were compositions Edward had played before, and while he knew he'd have to review and practice them, he was confident he had enough of a connection with the music that he could make them his own.

Hours had gone by – hours of talking about music, both specific and general, before it was time for Edward to leave. He was astonished at the amount of arrangements – above and beyond the instrumental type – that went into creating a CD.

Fortunately, Bella seemed very familiar with it all. As he left, Edward thought of how comfortable he felt with her throughout the course of the meeting. In spite of that moment when it almost went off the rails, he realized he'd spoken more with her than he had with any other woman for longer than he could remember.

It was only later that he realized he hadn't asked much about her background. She was apparently well-versed in classical music and training; and he could see her musical sensibilities were very similar to his own. But what of the rest of her life? What did she do when she wasn't soothing or stroking other musicians? And why didn't he think to find all this out when he'd had the chance? He'd been so busy talking about himself that he forgot to listen to her.

This was how Edward decided to attend the DigiClassic holiday party. He wasn't fond of festivities, but he wanted to see Bella again, and he wasn't inclined to wait until another business meeting.

For Bella, the party usually meant a long Saturday with a lot of extra work. Although the brunt of the organization was left to the company's administrative unit, Bella had to pay special attention to the artists who attended. This year, she hardly minded this part of the job. Edward Masen had RSVP'd that he'd be there.

Though it was not his usual habit, Edward arrived early, hoping he'd see Bella before the party started.

It occurred to him, as he parked his car in the garage down the block from DigiClassic, that she might be otherwise occupied. She seemed to be an inherent part of the company – a person whom Carlisle relied on in all ways – so she would probably have a lot of responsibility to make sure the event was a success.

Edward shook his head at his own inexperience once again. He'd never been a part of this world, and he knew so little about it. Well, he was here now; there was nothing to do but head into the building and hang around until the event started and he could find something to focus on - or a suitable place to hide.

He took the elevator to the top floor where the ballroom was located. As he stepped out into the hallway, he heard a lot of bustle and loud voices off to his right. Edward immediately felt self-conscious and returned to the elevator. He stopped one floor down to find a restroom where he could kill some time.

The hallway moved straight ahead for about twenty feet before it turned to the right, then left. Edward grew more frustrated, feeling suddenly as if he was stuck in a maze in a place that made him very nervous. And he found no evidence of a lavatory.

As he walked to the end of the hallway, Edward heard the faint but distinct sound of string music. Instinctively, he moved in its direction, as the melody grew stronger.

Almost immediately, he recognized the strains of Bach's "Suite for Solo Cello No. 1 in G Major". The music was perfect; played without error or hesitation.

Every door on each side of the hall had glass windows, and each opened to a small room for play or rehearsal. It became an almost desperate game for him to find the source of the music – it was beautiful, engaging, tantalizing. Finally, he threw another frustrated glance through the last door on his right, sure it would be another empty room. Instead, he saw a woman in a deep red dress, playing the cello.

It took only another few seconds for him to realize it was Bella.

She was sitting so he saw her in profile. The cello, which could be ungainly in the wrong hands, stood between her knees, resting against her chest and shoulder. Her head was bent over the instrument, her eyes closed as she drew the bow over to bring forth one of the best renditions of the Bach suite that Edward had ever heard.

He watched, mesmerized, as her small fingers danced over the strings. She was playing the Prelude – no, she was commanding it, drawing out the elegant, almost mournful tune in perfect time.

Edward was stunned. A mix of emotions more potent than he'd ever remembered coursed through him. He was moved by the beauty of the great composer's work, interpreted so faultlessly. He had no idea Bella played any instrument, and certainly not this perfectly. Why is she working for these people instead of playing? She was clearly gifted.

Why didn't she tell me? The fact that they hadn't known each other long at all didn't matter. Edward felt slighted that she'd never brought it up in their music discussions.

Something else stirred in him as well. The sight of this attractive, petite woman in a ruby-red dress, holding a large, masculine-sounding instrument between her legs, was more than a little erotic.

The prelude was over, and Bella gently moved the cello away from her. As she stood, she saw Edward's shocked face staring at her through the window in the door. For a moment, the two of them just watched each other, stunned.

She took in his tall figure, impossibly handsome in a form-fitting dark suit, the jacket buttoned over a white shirt and tie. Then Bella looked away, blushing.

She maneuvered her cello into the case as Edward flung open the door, nearly running into the room until he stopped a few steps away from her.

"You- that was you? Playing just now?" he said, in half-sentences.

"Yup. All me," Bella said, attempting a playful tone.

"You never told me you could play!" It came out far more accusatory than Edward intended, and Bella straightened up from where she'd bent to pick up the bow.

"I suppose the subject never came up," she responded drily.

Edward drew back in shock. "We've talked about nothing but music since we met!" he exclaimed.

"We talked about your music," she corrected him. Bella closed the large case, then carefully put it in a closet.

"I'd love to hear more about yours. I had no idea you were so incredibly talented," he murmured, stung by her indifference.

She turned quickly to look at him, her eyebrows arched. "Well, you can be excused for never hearing about me. I wasn't a top student who went to a high-end school," she snapped.

Edward leaned back and banged his head against the wall, closing his eyes. His own words came back at him, sharp and now embedded in his embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I mean…Bella, I had no idea."

She nodded. "Exactly. You made a few assumptions that I know are unfair. All the same, I'm used to it. I've heard those sentiments before."

He lifted his hand in a useless gesture of apology. "I know I can be a little…in my own world about things like this."

"I'm used to that in musicians, too. Really, Edward, it's okay." Bella didn't want to let him off the hook that easily. She was enjoying his unease a little. More than that, she wanted to see how hard he fought to get her to believe him.

"So I guess you've got all musicians tagged this way, huh?" He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "We're all close-minded snobs?"

Bella shrugged. "Like you said – in your own world."

"And that's all there is to it," he said, this time echoing his own words.

Bella opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. She knew what he meant: she was stereotyping him just as he'd done to her and thousands of other "second tier" music students. Point taken but not acknowledged.

She turned and walked out of the room.

Edward caught up to her and pulled at her arm. "I don't know what you really think of me-" he began, then stopped, because he couldn't think of what else he wanted to say. Or rather, he knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't want to say it here, in this room, where their time was limited because the party was about to start.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked. They were facing each other.

"Because it matters to me. What you think is important to me, and God, Bella, that's the first thing besides music that's counted in my life for as long as I can remember." He was holding her arms near her elbows; involuntarily, he rubbed his hands along her forearms. She still said nothing, but she shivered almost imperceptibly at his touch.

"Could we talk more after the party?" Edward's voice had dropped to a husky low as he stared in her eyes.

Bella nodded. She couldn't hold him off any more, nor could she hold herself away from him. It was impossible to give in to this attraction and impossible to deny it.

Hesitantly, he picked up his hand and slowly caressed her cheek with his long, glorious, cool pianist fingers. Bella closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, then opened them.

"Edward," she said in an agonized whisper, "I have to go-"

"I know. You have to work tonight," he said, nodding. "Later?"

"Yes. Later," she said, the word a whispered promise.

Bella led the way back to the ballroom, where she was immediately rushed by her assistant, Angela, who pleaded for help with the recalcitrant caterer. After giving Edward a look of apology, Bella receded into her work persona, where she stayed for the next several hours.

Involuntarily, she would glance around the room every so often to find him. It was as if she was naturally orienting herself to him. He'd become her axis, even if the line connecting them was crooked; and she thought this feeling – this belief in their connection – might last way longer than the evening.

This year, musicians dominated the party's guest list. Bella was rather glad, thinking this would make it easier for Edward. It was that orienting thing again, she thought ruefully. She watched as he spoke with another pianist, Eric Yorkie, whom she'd signed two years before. Vaguely, she wondered if they were talking about her at all. Then, Edward was lost in discussion with Carlisle. She felt relieved; Carlisle would look out for him when she couldn't.

Regardless of who he spoke with or where he was, Edward watched as Bella worked the room. He knew without looking at his watch that she spent no less than three but no more than four minutes with each artist present, and his or her guest. No one else noticed that she accepted numerous drinks from the open bar and then discreetly handed them off to waiters after taking only a few sips from each. Most of all, he watched her face. She smiled and listened intently to every person she came across. He liked how her eyes stayed focused on the person without wandering or looking for the next client to move on to.

As the time drew closer to 11, the crowd thinned out. Edward watched as one by one, the couples or groups took their coats and shook Bella's hand, then Carlisle's. He pretended to take a great interest in how the bartender packed up the unused clean glasses, placing them in small compartments within cardboard boxes.

Finally, he and Bella were among the last people in the ballroom. She was talking with Carlisle, who glanced up as Edward drew near. Carlisle looked sidelong at Bella, who seemed to forget their conversation about DigiClassic's annual report.

"Well," he said, trying to conceal his grin, "Esme and I must be going. Once again, you've done an outstanding job, my dear." He embraced Bella, then gave Edward a quick clap on the back. "Edward, I'm so glad you came tonight. I hope you enjoyed yourself. I'll leave you and Bella to close down the joint." His eyes twinkled, and Bella smiled at how they seemed to reflect the small Christmas lights strung around the ballroom.

Bella motioned toward the back of the room, near some windows that had a lovely view of Seattle and Puget Sound. "How about if we sit down for a bit?" she asked.

"Sounds good." Edward put his hand on the small of Bella's back to guide her toward two seats facing the glass.

Without warning, one of the staff shut off the overhead lights. Only the holiday decorations remained glowing. Bella turned to ask them to switch them back on, but Edward stopped her.

"Leave them off. It's nice like this." He was right; the small Christmas lights provided tiny green, red and white points throughout the room. Their minimal wattage barely illuminated Edward's face.

Bella suddenly felt shy, almost self-conscious. This was as intimate as she and Edward had been so far. The dim room, the sudden quiet, and even the small amount of alcohol heightened her awareness of the man next to her.

She drew in a breath and liked the sensations of it. Edward still bore the scents of aftershave, a clean shirt, and whatever it was that he'd put in his hair to calm it down. Bella had to resist the urge to lean into him and rest her head on his chest.

"Why didn't you play for the party tonight?" he suddenly asked.

"I never do," she said, shaking her head. "It's something I keep apart from my work."

"Why?" Edward couldn't fathom having a talent like Bella's and not enjoying it every day, as much as possible.

She paused a moment before answering. "I think I need to have them see me as a business person here," she said, musing. "I don't want my work life to get confused with my personal life."

Edward glanced at her quickly, and she blushed. "I mean, they look to me as a person who arranges things, gets everything straightened out for them. I don't want to muddy the waters."

"How could it muddy the waters if they saw how good you are? Don't you think the musicians would feel like you understand them better if they heard you play?"

Bella looked uncomfortable. "Sometimes I have to say no to them. I don't want them appealing to me on some emotional basis as a fellow musician."

"Because they'd try to manipulate you?"

"Some of them might, yes." Bella was distinctly uneasy with this line of conversation. In truth, she didn't like keeping her musical abilities hidden. But she resisted any possibility that she would be taken advantage of. She felt a strong need to separate business from pleasure. Tonight, sitting here with Edward, was the first time she could recall breaking that rule.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, "How can you keep that separate? I heard you play just this once, and I felt it. I know it's in your being like it's in mine. Nobody gets to that level unless they live it."

"I do it on my own time."

"Do you have enough of it, though?"

Bella was silent.

Edward sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. You probably think it's none of my business. I'm going out on a limb here. But you should be playing all day, every day." He wanted to tell her she was wasting her time, but he thought perhaps that was going too far, so he held back.

"Do you compose?" he asked, trying a different tack.

"Not much, no. I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a composer. I love playing what other people have written. There is already so much that's brilliant."

Edward nodded. "There's nothing like it in the world. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't play music," he said softly. "I can't imagine a life without it."

"You're an extraordinary talent," Bella said. "You're like a triple threat of composing, playing and interpreting. I look at you and I see someone who embodies what it means to truly be a musician."

"There is something about it," Edward said, thoughtfully. "I mean, first you have composing. You put together the notes, the melody, the tempo. Everything has to be in the right order, and completely compatible. The composition must be just so, or it's complete dissonance. You have to hear it, feel it – both, really - to create it the way it's supposed to be."

His hands came up to shape his words as he spoke. She'd seen those incredible fingers sometimes twitch with anxiety, but now they moved as assuredly as when he was at the piano. "And there's playing. It can be either your own song or someone else's. You play these notes just as they are put together, sometimes for one instrument, sometimes for more, and it's perfect. Especially with classical music, there are no lyrics to convey meaning. Composers relied on the music to show us passion, fury, love, comfort." He paused for a moment, a fierce look still on his features. Bella couldn't stop watching him, her throat constricted with her own emotions.

"You feel it throughout your body, and the joy is intense and indelible, even if the song isn't that long. And it's all so finite, but it doesn't take away from the pleasure. Really, is there anything shorter than a music note?" he asked, the excitement flush on his face. "On its own, it's nothing. But put together - well, it's magic. We truly make magic when we play."

He suddenly looked embarrassed at his declaration. But Bella was deeply stirred, physically as well as emotionally. She'd never heard it expressed with such ardor.

"See, that's it," she said fervently. "Those thoughts – it's so clear to me that they're organic to you. You think that way naturally. It would never occur to me to put it that way. You have this way of describing it - the lesson we learn that notes individually don't amount to much, but together, they create something beautiful. I've never looked at it like that, but you're absolutely right. What you said is perfect."

"Maybe you don't have to think it. Maybe you just feel it," Edward replied, nudging his shoulder into Bella's. It was an informal gesture, almost kidding, but it left a warmth in the place where he touched her.

"Not as well as you," she said.

Edward leaned forward so he could better see the expression on Bella's face. Her head was down, and she was staring at the floor. When she tilted her face back up, she was mere inches away from him.

For a moment, there was nothing except their gaze holding them together. Then Edward caressed her face, trailing his fingertips down along her cheek until they rested near her mouth. He took her chin gently and drew her toward him.

Bella closed her eyes and felt his hand drop down to grip hers as he kissed her. His lips were warm and a little tentative, and Bella wondered if she'd ever felt anything so thrilling at the first touch.

Edward shifted so they were closer together, and he drew back enough to look in her eyes again. He moved his hands to cup her face, then his lips were on hers again, moving slightly, almost demanding.

She sighed and leaned into him, opening her own lips even as she thought, shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't, shouldn't…But Bella knew she couldn't stop, and now that this fire was lit, she'd have to tend to it.

Edward's tongue moved inquisitively, and she responded in kind, picking up the harmony. He heard her inhale and then felt her body soften against him, melting into his own. The kiss lasted for minutes, grew stronger as their tongues became more insistent, and then Bella gently pulled away, gasping. She leaned into him, her forehead touching his chin.

"Edward," she said, her voice almost a cry. "We can't-" but she got no further because he was kissing her again, then moving his lips relentlessly over her jaw and neck. She took his face between her hands so she could place her open mouth against his once more, finding his breath, all hot and anxious.

Finally they separated, and Edward tenderly stroked her hair back from her face. His eyes almost made her come undone again, but Bella forcibly cleared her head.

"Edward, I can't," she said finally. "You're a client. I can't do this while we're working together. It isn't right."

He put his arm around her and looked across the Sound. "Is it too late for me to get out of this deal?" he said, smiling.

"I'm afraid so."

"You can't subcontract me out to some place down the street?"

"No. And there is no other place down the street."

"Then I expect to be a free agent when my contract expires," he said, squeezing her shoulder.

Both of them knew it would be a long time before that happened.

There were barely three weeks before Edward had to return to Curtis for the start of the semester. They worked furiously for long hours, recording as much as they could while time was on their side.

Logically, the "Mephisto" composition should have taken the longest, but Edward had it down perfectly after a few takes. The remaining selections from Bach, Beethoven and Brahms – "the triple B-threat," as Carlisle called them – took some more time. Edward rehearsed them on his own but, to Bella's surprise, still seemed insecure about his performance. He asked to re-record several times before he was satisfied with the performance.

After he played the Bach French Suite for the fifth time – with no difference from the first that Bella could discern – she asked if he wanted Carlisle to sit in on the sessions, thinking that might soothe him. Judging from the expression on his face, it had the opposite effect.

"But you'll be working with him tomorrow. We'll be recording 'The Planets' " – and then she stopped, watching Edward's fingers twist and fold into themselves.

She realized then that he was nervous about playing with Carlisle. It was quite a revelation, even though on some level it made sense. Edward was a musical genius who was about to duet with another musical genius with an established reputation. Of course he was worried.

Bella slid over next to him on the piano bench, conscious of the engineers sitting on the other side of the window. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you're anxious," she said softly.

He shrugged. "It's okay. I'm just not used to playing duets."

She watched him for a moment, and was certain it was much more than that. "This isn't going to be easy for you, I know. But Carlisle has an enormous amount of faith in your talent and capabilities. Trust me: he does not agree to play with just anyone any more."

Edward's shoulders tensed, and Bella worried that she'd said the wrong thing. "We don't have to keep any tracks you're not happy with. The two of you will have plenty of time to practice together – we've got the studio booked for the entire day." She knew her boss was eagerly anticipating his session with Edward in the morning, but she could see that Edward had all the worries of a novice despite his extraordinary talent. Words wouldn't help in this situation.

She took Edward's hand discreetly and rubbed her thumb over the back of it. His shoulders relaxed minutely, but Bella saw it. Her hands were cold from the chilly air in the studio, and Edward wrapped her fingers in his own. They stayed this way for as long as they dared considering they were under observation.

"Thanks," Edward finally said, then released her hand.

There was no small satisfaction for Bella in realizing she knew how to comfort him.

What she didn't know was how to say goodbye.

They finished all the tracks for the CD in record time, attributed largely to Edward's talent and determination. Bella admired that he was so intensely focused on the music, and had no reservations about working hard to get it right. But she knew how much this meant to him, personally more than professionally. Thanks to his commitment to his music and his mother, DigiClassic was about to release a best-seller.

Both of them were acutely aware that their time together was winding down. It would only be another day before a continent separated them. Curtis was due to begin its winter and spring term. Bella would have to find a way to return to her other clients, whom she'd been all but ignoring, as well as the never-ending process of finding new ones.

"How is your mother?" she asked at one point during their last session.

"She's about the same. She's tolerating the chemotherapy well, but it's still not clear how effective it will be. They won't know that until after her regimen is done and they run some tests," Edward replied.

Bella took his hand and squeezed it briefly. More and more, they found themselves touching innocently, though almost instinctively, these last couple of days. Edward looked at her and smiled, for her concern moved him unexpectedly.

"Will you be back to see her soon?" Bella couldn't help using this unsubtle way to find out when Edward might return to Seattle. She knew he had heavy graduate school responsibilities. There would need to be conversations about launching the CD and scheduling concerts once Edward was free from school, but Bella was well aware that such discussions could happen via phone conference.

He shook his head. "I don't know. Only if she takes a turn for the worse."

Bella realized her chances of seeing him again soon were contingent on his mother's health. She refused to consider this line of thinking.

"Then I hope that's not necessary," she finally said.

"I'll be home for the spring break at the end of March," he said, looking at her hopefully.

Bella smiled and nodded, but even this felt too far in the future. A little voice inside nagged at her for that. She was trying desperately to keep things on a professional level with Edward, but it was becoming more and more difficult. The night they kissed, she almost threw away the career she'd worked so hard to establish, and she wasn't even sure she'd be sorry if she did.

She knew she'd find reasons to call him, but it was not the same as seeing his tall frame at the piano, bent over the keys in absorbed concentration; or watching his long fingers, or hearing his low, rich voice from only a few feet away. And she knew how much she'd simply miss him.

Let me get through this, she thought. Let me finish the work I started here for Edward, and then figure it out.