to avoid sucking air. She knew he was watching her specifically, and Kerry had a feeling he also knew she was the featured soloist of the choir, even though she had no idea how me might have gained that knowledge. She'd talked to both her father and O'Dell about Cavanaugh's prior guest conductor experiences, trying to get details without making it look like she was prying, but neither had known much of anything, much to her disappointment.
When Kerry was finally able to look up, she instantly locked onto Cavanaugh's eyes, which of course were a steely blue, the kind she'd never been able to resist. Somehow she managed to keep from hyperventilating, and she returned his gaze, keeping her expression as emotionless as possible, to let him know right away that she wasn't overmatched.
His eyes held hers for what seemed like a moment too long, the grin playing at the corners of his mouth, until finally he looked away and took in the rest of the choir, as if something normal had just taken place between them. Even though Kerry was sure he knew as well as she did that what had just happened was anything but normal.
As Cavanaugh looked over the choir, Kerry got a chance to check him out as well. He was tall and thin, the jeans hugging his lithe form, and Kerry found herself hoping he would turn around so she could get a nice rear view of him as well. She was also dying to see if he would take off the jacket, but he left it on, and for once Kerry found herself damning the air conditioning in the church, which had saved them from many a sultry, smothering rehearsal.
Even as she kept looking, though, Kerry found herself drawn back to his eyes, again and again. The more she looked, the more she realized there was something different about them, something she couldn't quite place or identify.
It was almost as if they had gray highlights, tiny flecks of a metallic gray color that almost seemed unnatural in the way it made it impossible for her to look away once her gaze made contact with them. That was impossible, though, it simply had to be her imagination, even though Kerry literally had to tilt or nod her head to pull her eyes away from his every time she got caught up in them.
Chapter 2
A Song to Learn
Cavanaugh looked over the choir, then went back to fussing with the contents of the file, saying nothing, his silence creating a giant pregnant pause that seemed to hold the choir in suspense. It took forever for him to arrange the music, along with the rest of his papers, the program or whatever it was he was getting in order. Normally this would have provided a gap for the group to start talking, but no one said anything, it was as if he held them in a trance, and Kerry wondered if she was the only one being effected so strangely by the man's eyes.
She also found herself wondering exactly how old Cavanaugh was. He was definitely older than her, but it was hard to tell by how much, and Kerry could feel the calculator in her brain clicking and whirring, trying to gauge the age difference and what implications it might have.
He was definitely over thirty, she knew that for sure, and her best guess put him between 30 and 40, although Kerry wasn't sure about that at all. He might even have been over 40, but there was a translucent quality about his light, fair skin that made it impossible to tell. She played with all the different possibilities in her mind -- 30, 35, 40, 45 -- then finally decided she didn't care and that it didn't matter. Not one single little bit.
Then, finally, in the midst of Kerry's reverie, he was done. He looked up from the papers, seemingly ready, and blinked a couple of times, until finally he spoke.
"I'm sure you've heard things about me," Cavanaugh began. "I've worked with several choirs in the area, and I know how things are done in these parts."
He paused and reached down, shuffling some papers, and Kerry imagined what he'd sound like if it was just them, face to face, alone, in
When Kerry was finally able to look up, she instantly locked onto Cavanaugh's eyes, which of course were a steely blue, the kind she'd never been able to resist. Somehow she managed to keep from hyperventilating, and she returned his gaze, keeping her expression as emotionless as possible, to let him know right away that she wasn't overmatched.
His eyes held hers for what seemed like a moment too long, the grin playing at the corners of his mouth, until finally he looked away and took in the rest of the choir, as if something normal had just taken place between them. Even though Kerry was sure he knew as well as she did that what had just happened was anything but normal.
As Cavanaugh looked over the choir, Kerry got a chance to check him out as well. He was tall and thin, the jeans hugging his lithe form, and Kerry found herself hoping he would turn around so she could get a nice rear view of him as well. She was also dying to see if he would take off the jacket, but he left it on, and for once Kerry found herself damning the air conditioning in the church, which had saved them from many a sultry, smothering rehearsal.
Even as she kept looking, though, Kerry found herself drawn back to his eyes, again and again. The more she looked, the more she realized there was something different about them, something she couldn't quite place or identify.
It was almost as if they had gray highlights, tiny flecks of a metallic gray color that almost seemed unnatural in the way it made it impossible for her to look away once her gaze made contact with them. That was impossible, though, it simply had to be her imagination, even though Kerry literally had to tilt or nod her head to pull her eyes away from his every time she got caught up in them.
Chapter 2
A Song to Learn
Cavanaugh looked over the choir, then went back to fussing with the contents of the file, saying nothing, his silence creating a giant pregnant pause that seemed to hold the choir in suspense. It took forever for him to arrange the music, along with the rest of his papers, the program or whatever it was he was getting in order. Normally this would have provided a gap for the group to start talking, but no one said anything, it was as if he held them in a trance, and Kerry wondered if she was the only one being effected so strangely by the man's eyes.
She also found herself wondering exactly how old Cavanaugh was. He was definitely older than her, but it was hard to tell by how much, and Kerry could feel the calculator in her brain clicking and whirring, trying to gauge the age difference and what implications it might have.
He was definitely over thirty, she knew that for sure, and her best guess put him between 30 and 40, although Kerry wasn't sure about that at all. He might even have been over 40, but there was a translucent quality about his light, fair skin that made it impossible to tell. She played with all the different possibilities in her mind -- 30, 35, 40, 45 -- then finally decided she didn't care and that it didn't matter. Not one single little bit.
Then, finally, in the midst of Kerry's reverie, he was done. He looked up from the papers, seemingly ready, and blinked a couple of times, until finally he spoke.
"I'm sure you've heard things about me," Cavanaugh began. "I've worked with several choirs in the area, and I know how things are done in these parts."
He paused and reached down, shuffling some papers, and Kerry imagined what he'd sound like if it was just them, face to face, alone, in
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