Free [Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain by Tracie Peterson

looked up at this. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You worry too much. Folks around here hardly care that you fell into the harbor. They care more about the fact that you’re all right and suffered no ill effects. Sure, it gives everyone something to talk about for a time, but so what? It’s not like they can go to the opera for entertainment.” His face held a mischievous grin, and his expression almost dared her to contradict his comment.
    “Well, I don’t like to make a spectacle of myself.” She frowned. “But I seem to have a proclivity for it.”
    “Then it would be best to learn to laugh at yourself, don’t you think?”
    She gazed into his eyes and momentarily forgot what she was going to say. All Phoebe could think about was how much she wanted to touch his face. Instead, she forced herself to turn away.
    “I was hoping to ask you about the orchestra,” she said, brushing nonexistent lint from her sleeve.
    “What about it?”
    “I wondered if your mother was in charge. I mean, it appeared to me that she was leading the group.”
    Dalton nodded. “Mother has always had a great passion for music. She said her violin has been the friend she’s known the longest.”
    “I can well understand. I play the flute and feel the same.”
    “My father and I play guitar. You probably saw him among the musicians.”
    Phoebe remembered the man, although she’d never met him.
    “Yes. I was very impressed with the quality of their performance.
    Especially with so few members. Do you suppose your mother would be at all interested in attaining another musician?”
    Dalton chuckled. “She would be delighted. She always bemoans the fact that there are so few people with an interest in such things.
    You should definitely approach her about it. They practice whenever time permits and are generally asked to play at every gathering.”
    “Well, that would certainly excuse me from dancing,” Phoebe said without thinking.
    “And why would you want to do that?” he asked. “I thought you were quite skillful at it.”
    Phoebe shot him a glance. “You saw me?”
    “Of course. Yuri and I were discussing your arrival and decided you were by far and away the prettiest addition to the party.”
    His statement took her off guard. It wasn’t that Phoebe hadn’t heard men boldly speak their minds before, but she somehow hadn’t expected it from Dalton Lindquist. She quickly changed the focus of their conversation.
    “Who is Yuri?”
    “He’s my friend. I work with him and his father building boats.”
    “Was he the tall blond man?”
    “So you noticed him, eh? Now I’m jealous.”
    “You needn’t be. I couldn’t help it. I . . . uh . . . well, I was looking at your mother and the orchestra, and then you went up to speak to her. Later, after you left, you were talking to the blond man.”
    “Oh, so it was me you were watching.”
    She felt her cheeks warm again. “I . . . well . . .” What could she say?
    “Come on, the dancing is about to start up again,” someone announced behind Phoebe.
    Other people rushed past Dalton and Phoebe as the melody of a familiar waltz began. Phoebe didn’t know what to do. If she headed back inside, she would have to continue dancing.
    “Shall we join them?” Dalton asked.
    “What?” Phoebe wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying.
    “Would you like to dance—with me?”
    Phoebe felt as if she’d swallowed her tongue. All she could do was nod and accept Dalton’s arm as he led her back into the building. She trembled as he pulled her closer. She placed her hand on his shoulder and marveled at Dalton’s firm muscles.
    He said nothing as he maneuvered her around the room, weaving in and out of the other dancers. Phoebe wanted the moment to go on forever but knew it wouldn’t. Even now, Dalton’s friend Yuri was approaching to take her away from the only man with whom she wanted to dance.
    “My turn,” Yuri said, tapping Dalton and stepping into his place.
    Phoebe took hold