Claiming His Baby. Rebecca Winters

the audience, causing Raul to look up from his program. Everyone’s concentration had centered on the winner of the Bacchauer—a young woman in black whose femininity made an impact even at the back of the hall.

      She moved across the stage with a consummate grace that was stunning to watch. His gaze dropped to the program once more. The picture didn’t do justice to her Nordic coloring. She seated herself at the concert grand and began her performance with a little known work of Rachmaninoff, which was one of Raul’s favorite pieces.

      The haunting composition was technically difficult and incredibly beautiful. Raul was secretly thrilled she’d chosen that particular work. He knew the music intimately and found himself listening for certain passages.

      Her interpretation was marvelous. He felt her passion. She was doing everything right. It sent chills up his spine. Again he consulted the program.

      Madre de Dios. A twenty-five-year old piano student from Juilliard and she could play like that!

      She would only have been fifteen years old when he was finishing up his residency.

      Evan handed him the opera glasses he and Phyllis had been sharing. Raul lifted them to his eyes. The moment the young pianist had made her appearance onstage he’d been inordinately curious about her, wondering if he’d imagined the perfection of her face and figure.

      Perhaps it was a trick of light and the long black dress she was wearing, but her shoulder-length hair looked like a spray of gossamer, as if it had an inherent ability to shimmer.

      Her well-shaped head was bent over the keyboard so he could only perceive small glimpses of the total person—the hint of high cheekbones, a generous mouth and softly rounded chin.

      Moving lower, he noticed her hand span was not excessive because she wasn’t a tall woman. But her fingers were strong, her touch, eloquent. He didn’t want to give up the glasses when Phyllis reached for them again.

      She began her second number, Tchaikovsky’s Second Piano Concerto, a lesser known work than the First. So many pianists failed at this particular piece, but she revealed a depth of emotion and power that transcended the mere mechanics and ended up giving a sterling performance. Raul found himself holding his breath.

      When the last note had been played, there was a reverent pause before the audience burst into applause. Raul got to his feet along with Phyllis and Evan. The clapping reached a crescendo with shouts of bravo. It didn’t end despite the several graceful bows she made.

      Someone thrust a bouquet of flowers in her arms. The conductor held her hand high for the audience. Another thunderous ovation continued for several more minutes. Even without the benefit of opera glasses, he felt the radiance of her smile.

      “Give me your keys,” Raul murmured to Evan who was plainly ecstatic over his goddaughter’s performance. “While you go backstage to congratulate her, I’ll bring the car around in front of the concert hall and pick you up.”

      “Come with us.”

      Raul shook his head. “Not this time. Take as long as you want.”

      Evan dropped the keys in his outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said in a thick-toned voice and hurried down the aisle after his wife.

      This was one time Raul didn’t want to intrude on their private moment. In truth, he had no desire to meet Heather Sanders for the simple reason that she was the embodiment of everything he found attractive in a woman, not only physically, but emotionally.

      That kind of complication he didn’t need in his life. Coming to Salt Lake had been a necessity. On Monday he’d be flying back to South America. The sooner he left, the better.

      But in his heart of hearts, he couldn’t deny that something of tremendous significance had happened to him during her performance. Though it had only been a moment out of time, he was already feeling unmistakable stirrings. The type that needed to be repressed at all costs.

      Heather heard her dad’s beeper go off while they were in the car driving home from the symphony. As soon as he started talking on the cell phone, she knew it was a patient who’d gone into labor. Before he clicked off, he told the woman to meet him at the hospital.

      There went any hope of spending her last evening with him for at least a month. Being an obstetrician’s daughter, she was used to him leaving for the hospital at a moment’s notice. But tonight she needed him.

      Despite her performance, which she felt was the best she’d ever given, she felt emotionally drained. She wanted to talk to him about her life and her concerns. Yet at the same time she was nervous because she didn’t know how he would react. The last thing she would ever want to do was hurt him or cause him grief.

      “Honey?”

      His voice jerked her from her torturous thoughts. She turned her head in his direction. “I know. You have a patient who needs you.”

      “I’m sorry. Hopefully I won’t be long. You heard Phyllis. She asked us to come over, so I’ll drive you there right now and join you later. I don’t want you to be alone, not after the fabulous performance you gave tonight.”

      Heather didn’t know what she wanted.

      “It was a good thing I stayed in the wings,” he continued, unaware of her turmoil. “I was able to break down without anyone noticing that your old dad was the proudest father on the planet. A lot of important people were there tonight. Everyone gave you rave reviews. I could have told them you’re an incredible daughter as well as a pianist.”

      “The feeling’s mutual, Daddy. I don’t know how I was lucky enough to be born to you and Mom. You both gave me a beautiful life.” Her voice trembled.

      He reached across to pat her hand. “Honey—you sound like everything’s over when it’s only just begun. That must be your exhaustion talking.”

      Maybe it was.

      Maybe that was what was wrong with her.

      She needed sleep and lots of it.

      Now that the pressure of performing in her own home city was over, she would probably be able to let go of her anxiety.

      “Heather?” her father prodded.

      “You’re right, Daddy. I am tired.”

      “Tell Phyllis you need to lie down and put your feet up.”

      “That sounds divine.”

      A few minutes later he turned into the Dorneys’s driveway. She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Hurry back.”

      “You know I will.”

      She got out of the car and dashed up the steps of the house. Phyllis already had the door open and drew Heather inside.

      “Oh, no!” she cried when she saw the car drive off.

      “There was an emergency. Daddy said he wouldn’t be long.”

      “How many times have we heard that?”

      They smiled at each other in total understanding before Phyllis shut the door. “So—what does the newest and brightest star on the concert stage want to do first?”

      “Would you mind terribly if I just lie down for a while?”

      Phyllis eyed her with concern. “Do you even have to ask? Can I bring you something?”

      “No. Nothing. But thank you so much anyway. Where’s Evan?”

      “He had to stop by the office to look over some X rays, but he’ll be here shortly. You go on in the study and make yourself comfortable on the couch.”

      “Thank you, Phyllis. You’ve been wonderful to me.”

      “You’re like the daughter I never had. I’m the one who’s lucky.”

      Fighting tears, Heather gave her a hug, then headed for the study. As at home