Duncan nodded. “That was awesome, Mickey. You sing like that every night from now on, we might actuallymake it in this business!”
“What do ya’ll say to going out for a few drinks, to celebrate?” Ray drawled.
Michelle extracted herself from their possessive huddle. “Sorry, guys. There’s someone here I have to talk to. You go on without me, okay?”
Duncan seemed about to protest, but Josh shot him a warning look and he subsided. “Sure, Mick,” Josh said. “We’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Right!” Michelle turned and pushed her way through the crowd, slowed by questing hands and hails from many of the club’s patrons.
Nicholas was sitting at a tall table in a dark corner, an empty stool across from him. Michelle took the seat without asking, then leaned forward. “So. What did you think?”
Nicholas avoided her gaze, apparently absorbed with watching the people dance. “I thought the songs were frivolous. Forgettable.”
Michelle quelled the angry retort which rose to her throat. “Hmmmm,” she drawled. “That’s funny. I guess our fans follow us from club to club because theyforget we’re sofrivolous .”
Nicholas turned, pinning her with his piercing blue eyes. “They’re technically adequate, I’ll admit. And marketable, I suppose.” He took a sip of his drink. “But in my opinion, the only worthwhile music is music of the soul. Music that comes from the hidden depths of one’s emotions.”
Michelle raised her eyebrows. “Andjoy isn’t a valid emotion?
Nicholas leaned forward, frowning. “Not when it’s letting you hide. Not if it isn’t real. The music you played for me the other night—that’s real. That’s what makes you a musician, instead of just another cheap entertainer.”
“You’re a cynic,” Michelle accused.
“I’m a realist,” he retorted.
Michelle shook her head. “I don’t understand this. Why are we arguing?”
Nick frowned. “Because music is very important to me. It’s been themost important thing in my life since I was a child. It’s not something I like seeing trivialized by popular performers.”
Michelle narrowed her gaze. “Not everyone likes classical music, Nick. There are all kinds of musical genres and styles. Not everyone can compose world-famous symphonies for full orchestra.”
“I’m not talking classical music, Michelle. I’m talking music from the heart. There are great songs in every musical genre, right. But they’re the ones that speak to something primal in all of us. Something under the skin. The ones that come from a private place that only we have the nerve to bare to the world.”
“I can’t do that, Nick,” Michelle gritted. “I’m not ready. I’ve only just begun to deal with Angela’s death. I’ve only just given myself permission to feel happy again. I’m not ready to share my demons with the rest of the world yet.”
Nick shook his head, frustrated. It was hypocritical, he knew, accusing her of hiding who she really was, when he had secrets of his own that he might never reveal to her. But everything about him was there to be found, if anyone were to look closely enough. In his music. His soul—hislife —was in his music. He didn’t know why, but to see Michelle up there making music that meant nothing—it grated.
Michelle stood abruptly. She’d been a little uncomfortable around Nick lately. A little uncomfortable with their closeness. A little uncomfortable with the thought of being in love again. “Look,” she said, striving to keep her voice calm and steady. “Maybe we’ve been together a little too much these last few weeks.” Inside a voice was cryingNo!, but she forced herself to continue. “Maybe we should take a little break.”
“A little break,” Nick repeated in a monotone.
“I think so.”
Nick slid off his stool, glaring. “So, the first time we disagree, you decide we need to quit seeing each other.”
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Michelle shook her head angrily. “That’s not what I said, Nick. And it’s not just the argument. Things have happened pretty quickly for us, and I just want us both to take a little breather and step back so we can gain some perspective. Make sure this is really what we both want.”
Nick gazed at her in dawning suspicion. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”
Michelle swallowed convulsively. “What do you mean?”
“That’s it.” Nick began nodding. “You’re scared. We said we loved each other, and that made it real. And now you’re afraid of it. Afraid of making another commitment.”
Michelle fought back tears. “I—I j-just don’t know if I can weather another failure, Nick.” She gazed down at floor, fists clenched. “If this doesn’t work, I don’t know if I can bear it.”
Nick wrapped his arms around her. Given his strange situation, it was wrong for him to imply there was nothing for her to worry about, but he couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not yet. “Don’t be afraid, Michelle. Please.”
“I just—” She pulled away. “I just think we should take a couple of days, Nicholas. That’s all. Please.”
Nick’s chiseled features were unnaturally pale, the muscle at the corner of his jaw quivering. He pushed past Michelle roughly and strode away into the crowd.
* * * * *
Nicholas moved away from the sheer curtain. It had only been three days since his disagreement with Michelle, but here he was, standing in the window, watching for herto pass by. He should be thankful. He never should have become involved with Michelle in the first place. He’d been wondering where it was going to go; how he was going to tell her the secrets she wouldhave to know, in order for the relationship to continue for any length of time. She’d done him a favor. Now he didn’t have to worry about it. He could return to a normal life. Normal for him, at any rate. But his hand strayed to the curtain again, and he peered out, searching for a familiar figure along the tree-lined avenue. Irritated with himself, he decided on the spur of the moment to call for an escort and go out for the evening. Maybe he’d been wrong about the two of them. Maybe itwas just a physical thing, and he was simply experiencing some unusually intense sexual frustration. It made sense, in light of the amount of satisfaction he’d been receiving in recent weeks. A competent lay might put these uncharacteristic feelings to rest. He picked up the phone.
A few hours later, he closed the front door as the cab holding the willowy blonde who had been his companion for the evening backed out of the drive. Despite her killer figure and classic good looks, Nick had found himself only mildly aroused. The one satisfying thing about the evening had been their meal at the restaurant. When they had arrived back at the house, after some forced small talk and a desultory session of groping in the parlor that had resulted in a half-hearted climax on her part and positively no relief for him, Nicholas had admitted defeat and sent her on her way. Disheartened, he climbed up the stairs to his bedroom.
As he undressed, he cursed himself for ever disturbing the orderly pattern of his life. For inviting Michelle into not only his home, but his heart. He crawled into bed, unable to rid his mind of the vision of her as he’d first seen her—rapt, limned by the russet tones of the setting sun. Finally, he made himself close his eyes, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Nick was in the ballroom of a magnificent house. Potted poinsettias dotted every flat surface, the chandeliers and balconies festooned with gold ribbons. A large Christmas tree dominated one corner, decorated with Victorian ornaments in shades of bone white, silver and mauve. His gaze swept over the partygoers from his vantage point in the shadows at the top of the stairs. One of the dancing figures arrested his attention. Tall, with dark curls cascading down her back, in a silver flapper dress. She and her partner were doing the Charleston, the fringe at her hips swaying enticingly as she stepped lively. Nick made his way down the stairs, working hard to ignore the fascinated stares and low murmurs that followed his passage.
When he reached the bottom, the woman noticed him. She excused herself from her partner and hurried over to meet him. Nick’s body vibrated at the touch of her hands on his arm, as she guided him through the room. She introduced him to several people, all of whom were studiously polite to his face, then began whispering behind his back as they moved on. But something wasn’t right. This wasn’t his Elly. His Elly had short, straight blonde hair and a carefree disposition, with laughing eyes. This woman had dark, somehow dangerous looks, a serious demeanor, and sad eyes, full of longing. He pulled away, searching for Elly in the crowd. He spotted her near the foot of the stairs. Relieved, he made his way determinedly through the milling throng.
Finally reaching her side, he took her hand in his. Elly turned, a look of irritation swiftly replaced by calculating appraisal. “Michael, you’re here,” she said. “I’ve been ever so impatient for you to arrive.” Nick knelt on the floor, there in the ballroom. Her gaze narrowed. “Michael, what are you doing?” Nick smiled, removing a velvet box from the pocket of his jacket. Elly’s eyes widened as he opened the lid, displaying a very large diamond solitaire. “Oh, Michael. Thank you. But it’s so extravagant, for a Christmas gift!” She reached out and grabbed the ring, slipping it onto the ring finger of her right hand. She stared into his eyes challengingly.
Nick shook his head, “But, Elly—”
She tried to pull him up off his knees. “Come on,” she insisted, “Dance with me.”
Nick refused. “Elly, it’s an engagement ring. I want you to marry me.”
At that moment, the song the band was playing finished. The dancers near the stairs turned and waited to hear Elly’s answer. She looked at Nick with pitying eyes. “Good God, Michael. Youcan’tbe serious!”
Nick frowned, wondering why she kept calling him Michael. “But I am, Elly. I thought— Don’t you love me?”
Elly threw back her head and laughed. Each hysterical peal was like a dagger through Nick’s heart. “Love you? How could anyone loveyou?” She turned her cold, empty blue eyes on him. “You’re hideous, Michael.”
Nick shook his head, disbelieving, his arms and legs frozen in place. Elly eyed him, amused. “I admit, you’re very pleasant in bed, Michael.” The watching crowd gasped. Elly’s eyes gleamed with triumph. She lived to shock people, adored being the scandal of high society. The scandal every woman wanted to name friend; the one every man wished to be seen with. To bed. A scandal whose legendary parties no one would ever, ever dare to miss. “With the lights off. And I’ve very much enjoyed spending your money.” Some of the people in the surrounding audience snickered. “But I would never, ever marry you, Michael, although I have to admit, your net worth would make it almost bearable. Not just because I don’t love you, but because I could never bear waking up to the sight ofyouevery morning. And the idea of bearing your children-” She shuddered. “I can’t believe you actually thought—”
Nick finally thawed, letting his hands drop. He stood, searching frantically for a way out. Laughing faces surrounded him, hard eyes and false smiles gleaming. Heart pounding, he pushed them out of the way, running up the stairs. At the top, the woman from before was waiting, holding out her arms to him. “Wait, Nick, don’t go!” He rushed past her, running from Elly, running from himself, into the white December night.
Nick woke, soaked in sweat and trembling with rage. He hadn’t dreamed about Elly since…well, he couldn’t remember the last time. He sat up in bed, buried his face in his hands and waited until the tremors passed. To dream of her now…he had to do something about this. He pictured Michelle as he had seen her in his dream, beautiful and kind—reaching out to him. Not rejecting him, the way Elly had. He groaned. AndMichelle had been the one worried about handling rejection. He was whole, finally. Healed. No woman now would ever reject him the way Elly had; at least, not for the same reason. He was at the peak of this particular career, tremendously successful. There was absolutely no cause to dwell on the past, and no reason to be afraid of the future. He certainly didn’t need Michelle.
But his heart ached, and other parts as well. For the third time in as many nights, he had a persistent, painful erection. Nick waited until it became clear that his body was going to demand some type of satisfaction this time. Finally, he reached down and pumped his cock, picturing his Michelle as he had seen her in the dream—in a silver flapper dress, hips shimmying from side to side—until he finally exploded.
(An entertaining musical piece made up of several short movements)
Michelle eyed herself in the mirror critically. Shaking her head, she pulled off the loose skirt and tossed it onto the bed. Rummaging in her closet, she pulled out another garment and slipped it on. The tight, short skirt looked good with the cream-colored knit shirt she was wearing. She tucked the blouse in. The aureoles of her naked breasts were visible as dark shadows beneath the thinly woven fabric. Michelle smiled. Perfect for what she had in mind.
Michelle went down to the living room and grabbed her purse. She’d already loaded her car with the necessary items. She ran her hands through her hair nervously. It had been six weeks since she had told Nick she needed more time. Six weeks of anguish. How could she have stayed away so long? She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep; waking often, drenched with sweat, trembling with desire and unable to bring herself any relief. She had thought her physical need for him would fade, but it seemed to have grown in Nick’s absence.God, I hope this works, she thought.
Nick had not contacted her at all. She hadn’t really expected him to. He was too proud. He would be waiting for her to make the next move. Hopefully. Unless he had already forgotten her and moved on to someone else. Michelle shook her head as she climbed into the car. She couldn’t let herself think that way. She had to be confident, seductive. Besides, Penny had been keeping an eye on him via her contacts in the music world, and she said he had become even more reclusive than ever of late. Refusing all interviews, avoiding after-concert parties, throwing himself into the final renovations on the McMurtry house.
Michelle had thought she was doing the right thing. Given Nick’s obvious reluctance to commit, she had thought it best to break it off sooner rather than later. Her willingness to do anything he asked—anything—had begun to frighten her. She had imagined that, given time, those feelings would fade. After all, he was the first man she had slept with in such a long time. Perhaps it was just infatuation. But thoughts of him began to consume her every waking moment. She missed him desperately. The companionable silences, their shared interest in music, the stimulating conversations. The way he gave her every ounce of his attention when she spoke.