A Day in the Life of Guy Thornton-North
Chapter Three
After dropping LeQueen off at the Savoy, a short while later Guy pulled up in a quaint street lined with old houses that had been turned into particularly expensive shops. He strode along the street until he reached a small window, filled with beautifully restored instruments, and paused for a moment to admire the display before slipping inside.
The shop?s owner, Ophelia Fettlecini was not having a good day and had retired to the shop?s kitchen area to make herself a large cup of coffee in the hopes it would wake her up somewhat. A scientist by profession, Ophelia had given up her career for a life less ordinary as mistress of the little music shop, after falling in love with Elgar?s cello concertos. Standing at the counter, Guy was transfixed by Ophelia, a tall, brunette with the curves of a vintage Stradivarius.
Ophelia sensed someone watching her and turned round to acknowledge the tiresome individual who was about to interrupt her much needed caffeine fix. Instead, the sight of Guy, his eyes lingering in places they really probably shouldn?t, woke her up more than any cup of Gold Blend ever could.
?I have a cello to collect,? he stated, his soft baritone reverberating around the perfect acoustics of the little shop, ?I dropped it off for tuning last week? It?s under the name of Thornton-North.?
Ophelia realised that he must have been in on her day off last week. She was damn sure she?d have remembered the chiselled jaw, piercing blue eyes, and nearly-black hair, just long enough to be tousled, if she?d dealt with this particular customer.
?I think it must be out the back,? she said, softly, ?Would you like to come through, I?m just making coffee??
Guy followed her to the back of the shop. Down one side was a row of cupboards and worktops with all the accoutrements of a typical kitchen. On the left hand side was a row of various instruments in their cases, neatly labelled with their owner?s details in Ophelia?s delicate script. The centre of the room was dominated by a large scrubbed pine kitchen table, littered with sheet music.
Whilst Ophelia made the coffee, she watched Guy remove his instrument from the soft leather casing.
?You don?t mind if I give it a try do you?? he smiled, ?Important performance later.?
Ophelia smiled her approval and perched on the edge of the table as he took the only seat in the room, carefully positioned the cello between his lean, muscular thighs and began to play.
The soothing notes of Elgar?s Cello Concerto in B minor filled the air and Ophelia felt all the mornings stresses disappear as she closed her eyes to concentrate on the evocative sound. Guy?s bow caressed the strings whilst he watched her, so closed when he had first entered the shop, soften and become somehow more alive as she absorbed each and every note he played.
Guy knew he wouldn?t be able to complete the full 13-minute concerto with Ophelia in the room. He stroked the strings ever more gently so the notes became quieter and quieter until eventually he stopped playing and moved silently across the room to where she sat, eyes still closed on the edge of the table.
When Ophelia opened her eyes she was staring in to Guy?s own blue eyes. Their shared love of the cello was the connection between their very souls and she felt his breath on her face as he lowered his mouth slowly to hers. The anticipation was so intense she almost didn?t want their lips to meet, but eventually she felt his, hot on her own mouth, and conceded defeat as he pushed her gently backward onto the scrubbed pine?