MustLoveMusic by Jennifer Dunne Page A

number fourteen. The baker’s wife, number
thirty-two. The witch, number five.”
    Gayle didn’t hear the rest of the casting announcements. All
she could think of was that she’d scored her favorite part in the show. And
that she couldn’t wait to tell Rikard.
    As soon as she got home, she called him.
    “Hello, Gayle. How’d it go?”
    “I got the part! The witch. I got it!”
    “That’s fabulous.”
    “I’m so excited. I’m sure it’s because you helped me with
the audition song. Would you like to go out and celebrate?”
    Rikard paused. “Now?”
    “Well, no, it doesn’t have to be now. It’s late, and
tomorrow’s a workday. But later this week.”
    “Okay. You can come here tomorrow night, and I’ll make you a
celebratory dinner. Then we can have a…private celebration. Unless you have
rehearsal tomorrow?”
    “No, rehearsals don’t start until next week.”
    “Fine, then. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.” His voice
dropped to a low, seductive purr. “Congratulations, Gayle. I knew you could do
it.”
    * * * * *
    Wednesday night, Gayle went straight from work to Rikard’s
house. She didn’t wear anything special, since her tropical-print circle skirt
and teal blue microfiber blouse were both comfortable and flattering, and she’d
thought this would be more of a friendly celebration than a sex date. So she
was surprised when Rikard answered the door wearing his leather mask and pants again,
although this time coupled with a black tunic top that laced up the chest.
    “Did I misunderstand? I thought it was going to be just
Rikard tonight, not Master Rikard,” Gayle asked.
    “But it was Master Rikard who helped you with your song.”
Rikard captured her hand in his gloved one and drew her into the house.
“Besides, you deserve to be spoiled and pampered for your success, and Master
Rikard is far better at that than just Rikard.”
    His lips curved, and good humor laced his voice, as though
he found speaking of himself as two separate people extremely amusing. Then he
led her into the kitchen, and all thoughts of protest evaporated.
    Tray after tray of tapas covered the glass tabletop. Some
fillings were pinkish, some golden brown, some a deep russet. Then there were
the small bowls filled with hot sauces in every shade from bright red to dark
brown, sour cream, and a green chili paste.
    “You must have spent all day cooking!”
    “It was for a worthy cause.” Smiling, he held out a chair
for her.
    She sat. He offered her a crisp damask napkin, snapping it
open and holding it out for her. Disappearing behind her, he returned carrying
two goblets and a bottle of white wine. Then he took his own chair, opened his
own napkin, and gestured to the expanse of food on the table.
    “What would you like to try first? Seafood? Beef? Chicken?
Vegetarian?”
    Gayle shook her head, overwhelmed by all the possibilities.
“You choose.”
    He selected a neatly rolled white-and-pink offering, and
held it to her lips. “Try this. Crabmeat.”
    She relaxed and let him feed her, enjoying the complete
pampering of delicious food and exquisite service. All of the tapas were good,
but some prompted her to close her eyes and groan with pleasure as she savored
their flavor. She worried at first that she was taking advantage of Rikard’s
generosity, but his soft smile and the gleam in his blue eyes proved he was
enjoying the meal as much as she was. The final offerings, combining cinnamon
and a rich chocolate sauce, were positively heavenly.
    “That was wonderful. You’re a marvelous cook.”
    “Thank you. It’s good to have an appreciative audience.”
    “Have you always enjoyed cooking?”
    “No, it’s a recent hobby. I used to have the typical
bachelor diet of takeout food and pizza. But I spent far too long drinking all my
meals from a straw, and began to obsess about all the foods I couldn’t have. I
vowed that once I could eat solid food again, I would make all my future meals
memorable