In the Heat of the Spotlight

‘That’s just one article. There will be others.’

‘Does that bother you?’

She handed back the tablet, a furrow between her eyes. ‘It doesn’t bother me, not the way it used to, when I felt defined by what people wrote or said about me.’ She let out a slow breath, and he knew this kind of emotional intimacy was still new for her, still hard. ‘It doesn’t bother me because I have someone in my life who knows who I really am.’ She offered him a tentative smile. ‘I never had that before.’

Luke reached for her hand. ‘I’m glad you have it now.’

‘But I don’t want a comeback. I don’t want to be famous again.’

‘You don’t?’

She shook her head. ‘Singing in public again was more for me than the audience. I wanted to...to vindicate myself, I suppose. But I don’t want to be Aurelie again, not in any incarnation. I’ve had enough of fame to last several lifetimes.’

He twined his fingers with hers. ‘And what if these concerts catapult you back into the spotlight?’

‘The spotlight will move off me in a few weeks or months or maybe even days, when I refuse to give them what they want. More concerts, more tabloid-worthy moments. I’m done with all that.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ She glanced up at him, worry shadowing her eyes, darkening them to slate. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Mind? Why would I mind?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The fame thing, it’s kind of big.’

‘To be honest, I’d have a harder time following you around on a concert circuit, but I’d do it if that’s what you wanted.’

‘And what about what you want?’

‘I’ve got everything I want.’ He smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘You sing this afternoon, and then we have two days until Tokyo. Let’s go away somewhere, just the two of us.’

Her eyes widened, her mouth curving in anticipation. ‘Where?’

‘I’ll surprise you.’

He chose an incredibly exclusive resort on a tiny island off the coast of Hong Kong, the kind of place reporters or paparazzi could never find. The kind of place where he could pamper Aurelie all he wanted and they could revel in each other, in long, lazy days on the beach and long, loving nights in their bed, or the hot tub, or even on the beach again. Everywhere.

The night before they were to leave for Tokyo they lay in bed, the sliding glass doors open to the beach, the ocean breeze rustling the gauzy curtains. Moonlight slid over the rumpled covers, their twined legs. Aurelie was silent, one slender hand resting on his bare chest, over the steady thud of his heart.

Luke brushed his lips against her hair. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked quietly, because he sensed something from her that was thoughtful, maybe even sad.

‘Just how I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to go back to real life.’

‘I’m not sure I know what real life is any more.’ He paused, thinking to say more, then decided not to. He hadn’t told her he loved her yet, and she hadn’t said it, either. He wasn’t afraid of saying those three little words, but he wondered how Aurelie felt about hearing them. This was all still so new, and maybe even fragile. There would be time enough later to figure out how this—them—was going to work.

On the plane to Tokyo he reluctantly refocused on work. He hadn’t given Bryant’s or business a single thought in forty-eight hours, which had to be a record for him. Now he checked his phone and groaned inwardly at the twenty-two texts he’d been sent. Most of them, fortunately, concerned minor matters, but one was a tersely worded command from his brother Aaron.

Wait for me in Tokyo.

Irritation rippled through him. Was his brother actually going to fly all the way to Tokyo to boss him around? No doubt he’d seen some of the press about Aurelie and the openings and wanted to throw his weight around, as he always did.

‘What’s wrong?’ Aurelie asked quietly, and Luke glanced up. Over the last few days they’d become amazingly attuned to one another. Aurelie knew him as well as he knew her.

Not quite.

The thought slid slyly into his mind. She might have completely unburdened herself, but in many ways—crucial ways—he was still buttoned up as tight as ever. He still had secrets, and ones he had no desire or intention to share. She had enough to deal with; she didn’t need his remembered pain. He slid his phone into his jacket pocket, glanced away. ‘Just work stuff.’