âI donât think thatâs funny,â Elle said.
âI need to know your rules for this situation, Signor Corelli. You have rules for everything else. So let me have them.â
Dominic cleared his throat. âAll right, I make it a rule never to get romantically involved with anyone Iâm working with. In my opinion it adds an unwanted level of stress to the workplace.â He turned and bent low to whisper in her ear, âBut in your case Iâm willing to make an exception.â
Dominicâs mouth descended upon hers and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Their mouths hungrily devoured each other and the ache that both of them had been suffering for the past two and a half hours finally eased.
Never in his wildest dreams had Dominic thought a kiss could be this powerful. And he considered himself somewhat of an expert on the subject. It was so intense that as he was kissing her he found that the longer their mouths were locked in the act, the more he wanted. He could go on kissing her and never get enough.
Dear Reader,
Some friendships last a lifetime. Temptationâs Song is the first of what Iâm calling the Temptation Books, a trio of books about three friends who met at Juilliard, a performing arts school in New York City. In three different disciplinesâElle Jones in voice, Patrice Sutton in theater and Belana Whitaker in classical danceâthey were not in direct competition with each other, but they were always there to support and lean on one another through times both good and bad. Be sure to look for Temptationâs Kiss and Temptationâs Dance in the coming months.
If youâd like to write to me you can do so at [email protected], or visit my Web site at www.janicesims.com. You can also find me on Facebook, and I have a reading group on Yahoo. If youâre not online yet you can write me at P.O. Box 811, Mascotte, FL 34753-0811.
Best always,
Janice Sims
Dominic Corelli sat in a balcony box at Teatro alla Scala, brooding. The room was dark, as he had requested. No one in the theater could see him, but he could hear and, when he stood, see everything going on below.
The opera house in Milan, Italy, had undergone several renovations since its opening in 1778 and today was one of the worldâs most famous theaters. Maybe, Dominic thought, his mind roaming because the singer auditioning for him was performing badly, the architects were too good. Thanks to the wonderful acoustics in the auditorium he could hear every off-key note she was warbling.
âGrazie!â he exclaimed, denoting heâd heard enough.
The mezzo-soprano onstage, a petite Italian woman in her midthirties, realizing her time was up, abruptly stopped singing and smiled in the direction of his voice. âGrazie, Maestro,â she said before exiting the stage.
Because her voice had not been up to par, Dominic didnât rise from his seat to get a glimpse of her. When auditioning singers, he preferred them to sing a cappella, and to be hidden from his view. To him the voice was everything. Lately the opera world was becoming as shallow as other forms of theater by showing favoritism to physically attractive performers. He remained true to the art form by hiring gifted singers rather than those who were easy on the eyes but possessed mediocre talent.
True, the role these singers were auditioning for was that of Adama, a woman who was so desirable that she could tempt Satan himself to give up his throne in hell for her. But in the story the devil had first been drawn to her singing, so Dominic was looking for a singer with a truly remarkable voice.
Yet, after three days of auditioning every mezzo-soprano in Europe, it seemed, Dominic hadnât heard that voice.
His cell phone rang. Seeing that the caller was Roberto Ribisi, a La Scala employee who was assisting him during the auditions, he answered, âRoberto?â
âItâs nearly lunchtime. Do you want to break now, and continue at one-thirty?â
âHow many more have we to go?â Dominic asked.