"Mostly yours," she snapped. "If you want to resign as my manager, I don't have a problem with that."

Lisa took a step back. "No. That's not what I mean." She cleared her throat. "Claire, dear. I had no idea you were so upset. Of course you must have time with your family. I shouldn't push you."

It was amazing how Lisa could play both sides of good cop, bad cop and never miss a step.

Claire hated this. Hated having to disappoint people, hating not being able to play. But that's where she was right now-trapped with a talent she couldn't use. She was bone tired and not willing to get back onto the treadmill that was her life. She was tired of making decisions based on what everyone else wanted. What about what she wanted?

An excellent question, if only she had an answer.

"It doesn't matter if you push me," she said. "I'm not changing my mind. I'm here until Nicole is better. I might stay longer, I don't know. I'm not willing to make any commitments for the fall or any other time. I won't be pushed. So you need to just back the hell off."

Lisa stared at her for a long time. "All right. I can see you're not ready to come home. That's fine. I'll wait. You know how to find me."

Claire nodded but didn't speak. She stayed where she was until Lisa had left, then collapsed onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands.

"Impressive," Nicole said. "You really stood up to her."

"I did, didn't I?" Claire dropped her hands to her lap. "I'm shaking."

"That'll pass. She's really your manager?"

"Has been since I was twelve."

"She's scary."

"Tell me about it. But she's also the best. There are a lot of talented musicians out there who haven't had half the opportunities I have."

Nicole settled into a chair across from the sofa. "She talked about your concert dates, the practice, fittings, media interviews. Is that a regular day?"

Claire leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. "Pretty much. There isn't a lot of free time. Sometimes I feel like those hamsters in a cage, running on a wheel. You go and go, but you don't get anywhere and the view never changes. I will say it's gotten easier. I know a lot of the music. When I was younger, I had to learn everything. That was a nightmare."

She paused, then braced herself for the sarcastic attack to follow. Nicole wasn't one to walk away from a good comeback.

But her sister only said, "It sounds tough."

Claire opened her eyes. "Are you feeling all right? Do you have a fever?"

Nicole shifted in her seat. "No. I'm fine. It's possible that after talking to Lisa I've come to see that maybe your life isn't as princessy as I'd first thought. That there might be actual work involved."

"Oh, really." Claire sat up and smiled. "Which would mean you're..."

"What?"

"You know. Say it. If you're not right, you're..."

Nicole shook her head. "Forget it. We're not going there. I'm saying I might have been misinformed. That's as good as you're getting."

"Wrong," Claire told her. "The word you're looking for is wrong."

"Never. So you stayed to have dinner with Wyatt?"

"Uh-huh. We went out. Amy's great. I really like her a lot."

"How do you feel about Wyatt?"

Claire had the sudden sense of stepping into dangerous territory. "He's a great dad. Patient and caring. Those two obviously love each other."

Nicole studied her for a long time. "They do. Amy's his world."

"I can really tell. He, uh, isn't seeing anyone, is he?"

Nicole stood. "Why do you care?"

"I don't. I just wondered. He's really nice and it seems like he would have remarried again."

Nicole's expression hardened. The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. "I can't believe it," she yelled. "You're attracted to him? No way. You are so not dating him. You can just forget it. He's my friend. Mine. Do you hear me? It's bad enough that Jesse slept with Drew. There is no way in hell you're going to sleep with Wyatt." With fists clenched, Nicole made an abrupt about-face and left the room.

CHAPTER TEN.

CLAIRE HAD NEVER BEEN on a construction site before. She got out of her car and looked for the trailer Wyatt had described. She saw it off to one side, but instead of heading directly toward it, she paused to look at what was going on.

The huge space had been cleared of most of the trees, although there were still several in what she guessed would be backyards. A few of the houses were already framed, while others were little more than stakes pushed into dirt. Big, loud equipment dug out foundations and moved soil.

She'd never thought about all the effort that went in to building a house. Or several houses. It looked complicated, and almost miraculous. How could someone create a house from nothing? How did anyone know what to do first, then second and so on until it was finished? Who figured all that stuff out?

Not a question she was going to get answered just standing here, she reminded herself and walked toward the trailer.

She was about halfway there, when a tall, thin man with a mustache stopped her.

"Aren't you the prettiest thing I've seen all morning," he said with a smile. "I'm Spike. Who are you?"

Spike? She'd never met anyone called Spike before. She took in the tattoos on his arm, his University of Washington T-shirt and the big smile that seemed to welcome her. She appreciated his friendliness.

"I'm Claire. I'm looking after Wyatt's daughter. He forgot to sign a permission slip so I brought it by."

Spike looked her over. "You're one of those fancy nannies?"

That sounded a whole lot better than an out-of-work, panic-filled piano player. "Sort of."

"It's nice to meet you, Claire."

"You, too."

"I haven't seen you around here before."

"I've just started looking after Amy. I'm new toSeattle."

"Need someone to show you around?"

Was this flirting? Was he flirting? She wished she knew more about men and women and how they interacted with each other. She didn't want to say the wrong thing or feel stupid.

"I have a GPS system," she told him. "I'm doing okay."

Spike chuckled. "You're doing better than that, darlin'."

Oh, my. Not sure how to respond, she smiled. "I, ah, need to get this to Wyatt, then back to the school. It was nice to meet you."

"You, too. We could get a drink sometime."

She froze in the act of taking a step. Had Spike just asked her out?

She turned back to him. Would it be a date? A real, live date? "That would be nice," she said, and continued toward the trailer.

Okay, so she wasn't desperately interested in Spike. At least going out with him would be practice, so she could do a better job when she met someone she really liked. Besides, he seemed nice enough. Maybe she was judging him too quickly.

As she approached the trailer, the door flung open. Wyatt stood in the opening, glowering at her.

"Why were you talking to Spike?" he demanded.

"What? I don't know. We were just chatting."

"It looked like more than that."

"You're right. We were planning our elopement. We're going to have to wait until his day off."

Wyatt stepped back and motioned for her to enter the trailer. "You're not good at sarcasm."

"Give me time, I'll get better."

He stared at her; his dark eyes seemed to see into her soul. "Did he ask you out?"

Why was Wyatt acting like this? "He mentioned getting a drink."

Wyatt closed the door behind her. The trailer wasn't huge and most of the space was filled with desks and filing cabinets. Blueprints had been pinned up on the wall, showing the different floor plans. At least she thought that's what they were.

Wyatt stood close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. He didn't look happy.

"You don't want to date Spike," he told her.

Which was true, but she hated being told that by him. "Because you say so?"

"Because he's only been out of prison a couple of months. He's a good worker, but he was convicted for assault. He's on probation now."

Claire swallowed. Prison? As in incarceration? Okay, then. "I'm sure everyone deserves a second chance," she said primly, suddenly relieved she hadn't given Spike her phone number. Not that he'd asked.

"He's also married."

"What? Are you serious? Married?"

That was so unfair, she thought, suddenly furious. Not that she was all that interested in dating Spike, but married? At this rate she was never going to have a relationship, never going to have sex. She was a freak on too many levels, she thought as she stared at her hands. Why couldn't she be normal, like other people?

"You sound upset," Wyatt told her. "Is his wife going to get in the way of your plans?"

"Don't be mean," she said, suddenly feeling defeated. "I'm not interested in Spike, which you probably could have guessed. I don't care that he's married, it's just..."

This was so her life, she thought sadly. Where had she gone wrong? How was she going to make things different?

"It's just what?" he asked.

She shrugged. "He was interested. Maybe. That was nice."

"You enjoy ex-convicts coming on to you?"

"Of course not. It's just no one ever asks me out. Even for a drink. I managed to go through life with men looking the other way."

She braced herself for his scorn, or maybe an explanation of what was wrong with her.

Instead he folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah, right."

"It's true. I don't date. Ever. I'm rarely home. I don't travel with an orchestra so I don't meet a lot of guys there. Besides, most of them are total players or gay. The good ones are already married. Anyway, when I'm on the road, I'm going from event to event. I don't have time to meet anyone let alone form a relationship. The person I see the most is Lisa, my manager, and believe me, she's not my type."

He stared at her, not speaking. She sighed.

"I'm not making this up," she said. "If I do manage to meet someone seminice or normal, he's usually completely intimidated by me. It's the fame or the money or whatever, I'm not sure. But it's terrible. It's not like I'm not trying, you know. I want to meet a great guy. I want to be involved." She glanced toward the door. "Maybe not with Spike."

"You think?"