The Musicians

Chapter 15: Cat and Dragon

"I'm glad you were able to persuade Henry to leave," Mozzie said. "How would you have explained Sara coming over?"

"That might have rung the death knell to the Clueless con," Neal admitted. Sara was due to arrive any minute. He and Mozzie were waiting in June's living room at the end of a day filled with friends and familiarity.

"You can't end the con now! I'm just getting started. You wouldn't want to deprive the matchmakers of the entertainment they'd receive by attempting wits with me."

Sara had told Neal how Mozzie unmasked their scheme. His participation could add a new dimension. But the most important benefit from Neal's perspective was that Mozzie and Sara would have a chance to become even closer. "Sara told me you're quite content with your character of Reverend Green."

"Pastor of the Chapel of Love? It's the natural role."

When the doorbell rang, Mozzie leaped up first. "Allow me." A minute later, he strolled in with Sara. "I hope you don't mind if I leave you two alone."

Thank you, Reverend Green!

"Janet has tickets to the Broadway show Wicked," he added. "It may inspire thoughts for the con." Mozzie turned to Sara. "Gracie, would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to spend the evening with Neal?"

She sighed theatrically. "I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

"Excellent. If you decide to spend the night, you needn't bother about putting a sock on the door. I'll call before I return." He gave an exaggerated wink and headed off, chuckling all the way.

Neal grinned. "I feel like a teenager with our parents out of town. Whatever will we find to do to entertain ourselves?"

"You can leave that to me," Sara said, giving him a smile indicating their minds were thinking alike.

A full moon shone over the terrace when they went upstairs to the loft. This was the first time for them to be alone there since they'd been a couple. He'd no sooner opened the door than she was in his arms.

Sara had made him promise not to cook, and he'd kept his word, but that didn't prevent him from planning a special evening. The table was lit with candles. There were fresh flowers. He'd bought pate, cheese, and bread, and had prepared a composed salad.

But dinner could wait.

* * * * *

Eventually some of the food was eaten, but mainly they feasted on each other. As the night lengthened, they lingered over the last of the wine in bed. Sara was wearing one of his pajama tops. The midnight-blue silk did little to conceal her curves. He had the bottoms on. They were hidden from the world in the seclusion of his loft. Nothing outside its four walls seemed very important.

Sara raised her glass to his Da Vinci painting which was now displayed on an easel in the corner by the couch. "Your painting is beautiful. She looks like she was meant to be there. But won't she serve as a reminder of what you endured?"

He draped his arm over her shoulders and fingered a lock of her hair. "In my mind, you were the one I was painting. You were what kept me sane. I was able to ignore the flashing images by shrinking my world to where it was just you and me in our own inner space."

She put her glass down and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "Then I want you to always keep her near at hand. She'll be my proxy when I'm not here."

Neal had never noticed so clearly the golden highlights in her eyes. They pulled him inside her, dissolving the fear and confusion. Thoughts of the past week unraveled and disappeared. His world turned to emerald and gold.