Blaze of Winter: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance by Elisabeth Barrett Page A

rumbled approvingly. Avery blushed. “Thanks. It was fun.”
    “That’s probably enough of that piece for tonight,” Luke said. “We can work on it more next week. For now, I think we should move on to the Tchaikovsky Allegretto in E Major. This one’s perfect for you, Avery.”
    She tipped her head. “Why?”
    “It’s light, but it’s got a depth to it.”
    She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply nodded and studied the music while Royce packed up his bass.
    “Same time next week, guys,” Luke said. “We’ll be doing the Mendelssohn, so prepare for that.”
    “Will do. Catch you at the Nail.” Royce and Andy left.
    For the next hour, the remaining players practiced the Tchaikovsky—a rousing, passionate piece—and a few more modern pieces by Frank Bridge. Avery was delighted with the selections. It was nearly ten by the time they’d finished, but Avery felt fresh and clear-headed. As they packed up their instruments, Luke approached her.
    “So,” he said, his hands behind his back. “You interested in coming back next week?”
    She didn’t hesitate before responding. “Absolutely. This was one of the most fun evenings I’ve had in a long while.”
    He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. Here.” He handed her a stack of sheet music. “This is what we did this week and what we’ll be doing next week. I’ve also included some Christmas music. We always do a holiday performance Christmas week. We’d be pleased to have you. That is, if you’re going to be around.”
    Avery blinked. She’d been taking her stay in Star Harbor week by week. With a start, she realized it was early December and she hadn’t thought through where exactly she would bespending the holidays. For a split second, she had the sensation of feeling oddly detached from her old life, and not quite entrenched in the new. Was this her new life? She was on leave from her job and almost everything she owned was back in her apartment in Boston. All she’d taken with her to Star Harbor was a suitcase of clothing and her car. And her violin. Even though she hadn’t played in so long, for some reason she’d wanted to take her instrument with her. It was part of who she was, even if she couldn’t find the time to play.
    Luke must have sensed her uncertainty, because he held up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me now. Why don’t you just take the music home, practice, and you can tell me in a week. Sound fair?”
    “Sure. I’ll do that.” She tucked the music into her bag. “Thanks again for letting me play with you.”
    “Believe me, the pleasure was all ours,” Luke said. “Now, it’s a tradition for us to get a drink after practice at the Rusty Nail. Andy and Royce will be waiting. Care to join us?”
    “I’d love to,” she said with a smile.

CHAPTER 8
    Theo stretched in the uncomfortable wooden chair and glanced at his watch. Ten P.M. He pushed his glasses onto his head and rubbed his sore eyes. After leaving the LMK that evening, he’d stared at old, blurry copies of newspaper articles on microfiche and ancient, dog-eared tomes about pirating and shipwrecks off the Massachusetts coast for the better part of an hour. The scanned copies of the oldest continuously published newspaper, the Boston News-Letter , were fascinating, but they were murder on his eyes. Still, he couldn’t complain too much. He’d made more progress on plotting his new novel in the last day than he had in a month back in California.
    Branford Weld, president of the Star Harbor Historical Society, had done him a solid favor, allowing him to use the records room in the old building way past regular hours. In fact, he was pretty sure the Historical Society wasn’t even open on Thursdays during the winter. He made a mental note to buy Bran a drink or two at the Nail sometime soon. In fact, he sure could use one himself. Closing his worn leather-bound notebook, he organized the stacks of books and papers he was using into