Her Secret Life

So, slipping into Doria, she spun for him. “I’m in costume.”

“You’re also Kacey,” he told her, his glance changing, growing...real. And serious. “This is the you I’ve seen in pictures. And I’m honored to be your escort for the evening.”

“Well, if we’re going to be all serious, I have to say, you’re stunning, too, Michael.”

Truth be known, she was more than just slightly off her mark. She couldn’t stop looking at him. And finding him...attractive.

“You cut your hair.” She’d noticed instantly but had wanted to keep things light. And here she was, feeling so much more than she should. He wasn’t hiding his face.

“I...thought it was time,” he told her, just standing there in the evening’s waning sunlight. “I’m matching you courage for courage. I know that putting yourself back out there—as Kacey—is looming as a potential fall point in your mind, and you know how I feel about this—” he pointed to his scarred jaw “—out in public, so I figured, the way I support you is to show the same kind of courage. We’re in this together, right?”

Tears filled her eyes.

“No, don’t cry!” Michael looked worried. “You’ll ruin your makeup and we’ll be late if you have to go back in and redo all that...”

She laughed. Real laughter. There and gone. But it felt so good. “It’s waterproof,” she told him, linking her arm in his—just as she had on the beach. “How do you think women cry on TV all the time? If our makeup ran every time we shed a tear, it would be a filming nightmare with makeup repairs!”

“Great, so now we know just how blind I am walking into this shindig.” He opened the passenger door for her, helping her in. “Good thing I’ll be on the arm of the brightest light in the room.” He shut the door on any reply she might have made.

He needn’t have bothered. She was tearing up again. It had been a corny thing to say. So unlike Michael. And yet...just what she’d needed.

Even if she was dark inside, she could still shine for others. That was her job tonight. To shine for Michael as he put himself out there on her behalf. Tonight wasn’t about her. It was about him. And supporting Steve. It was about being unselfish.

It was about getting over herself.

She smiled at him as he got in the car beside her, bringing his clean musky scent with him. He smiled back. A manly smile that was in his eyes as much as any place else.

A smile that warmed her in places she hadn’t been warm in a very long time.

* * *

BO WAS NOT at the evening’s celebration. Kacey didn’t say why. She just leaned in as they were shown to their table to let Mike know that she’d just been told her ex wasn’t going to be there. He hoped it was an omen that the night would turn out better than he was expecting.

But then, he’d never been one to believe in omens.

In some ways it was as bad as Mike had known it would be. He hadn’t been poor me–ing when he’d told Kacey why he stayed out of the public eye. For those who didn’t know him, his face was...unexpected.

The startled glances hardly bothered him anymore. They felt like a part of his life. And they usually were replaced with compassion.

It was the outright shock that got to him. Tonight it was followed by hand-covered whispers from those sitting close by. The woman on his left didn’t even look in his direction when the star of their table, Kacey Hamilton, who was seated on his right, was speaking to her.

He didn’t blame her. If he’d been anyplace else, with anyone else, he’d have excused himself for the duration of the meal. As it was, he focused on Kacey. And hoped that his presence didn’t embarrass her. Catching himself repeatedly tapping his thumb against the table, he stopped. Started again. Stopped. When he found himself starting a third time, he removed his hand from the table.

The fact that he’d tried to warn Kacey that she wouldn’t want to be seen with him wasn’t enough consolation to make the evening palatable. He felt her hand suddenly slide onto his knee under the table. There was nothing sexual in the gesture. She wasn’t coming on to him. She was offering him support. And to show her that he understood, he covered her hand with his own. Gave it a squeeze.

And then

tried to pretend that he wasn’t a man at great risk of falling in deep lust with the stage persona of the woman at his side. Doria—the sex object. If nothing else, the predicament distracted him from the odd glances he and Kacey were getting.

“Everyone just wants to know who you are,” she whispered. “You’re the man of the hour because no one has seen you before. They’re all thinking, Is he a producer, considering her for a lead role?”

“They’re wondering if I’m richer than God, because how else would you possibly be with me,” he said back, only half teasing. But gave her hand another squeeze. Since she’d left it on his leg and was managing to eat her meal one-handed, he figured he should do the same.

They were each other’s mutual support society.

And for the rest of the dinner, and the presentation and speeches afterward, they continued to regale each other with possible conversations going on around them about them, each one growing more ridiculous than the last.

When, during a particularly long round of applause, Kacey said, “Leftie—” as they’d nicknamed the woman on his left “—just asked her husband if he had a crush on you,” he laughed out loud.