In the Heat of the Spotlight

Disappointment and frustration blazed through him. This wasn’t what they’d agreed. Why had she changed their deal? Was it fear—or some kind of twisted revenge?

The song ended, and Luke heard the familiar mixture of catcalls and cheers. Nothing had changed. So much for the ultimate reinvention. Aurelie walked off the stage, and even though there were several local dignitaries waiting for him to escort them through the store, Luke turned and walked away from it all.

He found her in the break room she’d been using, just as before, to change. Her back was to him as she put her guitar away, and under the flowing top he could see the knobs of her spine, the bared nape of her neck as she bent her head. Desire and anger flared inside him, one giving life to the other.

‘You didn’t play your song.’

She turned towards him, her face completely expressionless. ‘Actually, I did.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘It wasn’t going to work. I warned you, you know.’

‘You didn’t give it a chance.’

‘I could tell. Honestly, Bryant, you should be thanking me. I just saved your ass.’

‘You saved your own,’ he retorted. ‘What happened, you chickened out?’

‘I prefer to think of it as being realistic.’

Frustration bit at him. ‘I didn’t hire you to be Aurelie all over again.’

‘Oh?’ She raised her eyebrows, her mouth curving in that familiar, cynical smile, innuendo heavy in her tone. ‘What did you hire me for?’

He shook his head, the movement violent. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t,’ Luke ground out, ‘make this about sex.’

‘Everything’s about sex.’

‘For you, maybe.’

‘Oh, and not for you? Not for the saintly Luke Bryant who said he had a business proposition for me and two hours later was in my bed?’

Luke felt his fists clench. ‘You wanted me there.’ At least at the start.

‘I’ve never denied it. You’re the one swimming down that river.’

His nails bit into his palms. This woman made him feel so much. ‘I’m not denying anything. I never have.’ He let out a long, low breath, forced himself to unclench his fists. To think—and react—calmly. ‘Look, we obviously need to talk. I have to go out there again, see people—’

‘Do your schtick?’ She gave him the ghost of a smile, and Luke smiled back.

‘Yeah. I guess everyone has one.’ For one bittersweet moment he felt they were in agreement, they understood each other. Then Aurelie looked away, her expression veiled once more, and Luke felt the familiar weary frustration rush through him. ‘But we are going to talk,’ he told her. ‘There are things I have to say.’ She just shrugged, and with a sigh Luke turned towards the door.

* * *

Aurelie let out a shuddering breath as she heard the door close behind him. She put her hands up to her face, felt her whole body tremble. Why had she done that? Acted like Aurelie, not just to a faceless audience, but to him?

She’d been reacting again, she knew, to the rejection. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Nobody would let her change, so she wouldn’t. It was, she knew, a pretty pathetic way of trying to stay in control.

And clearly it wasn’t working because she didn’t feel remotely in control. She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of an abyss, about to fall, and she didn’t know what waited darkly beneath her.

Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake. Trying to change. Wanting to be different. The audiences weren’t going to accept it. Her. And, no matter how he fussed and fumed, neither was Luke.

Drawing another deep breath, Aurelie reached for her bag. She’d fix her make-up, and then she’d go out and mingle. Smile and chat. She’d get through this day and then she’d tell Luke she was going home. She was done.

* * *

Four hours later the opening was over and Aurelie was back in her suite at the Mandarin, exhausted and heartsore. She’d managed to avoid Luke for the entire afternoon, although she’d been aware of him. Even as she chatted and smiled and laughed, nodded sympathetically when people told her they didn’t really like the guitar or the jeans, she’d been watching him. Feeling him.