by Abby Green
The tiger seemed to be looking at her reproachfully. She rolled her eyes. It was a toy, for goodness’ sake. Inanimate. Stuffed. The reproachful look deepened.
‘Oh, all right, then.’ She stomped over to it. ‘Stop making me feel so guilty.’ She picked him up, fingers automatically smoothing his fur. ‘Don’t think you’re sleeping in my bed, though.’
The nights started to blur together. After the excitement of the opening, the thrill of the first reviews, they settled into the performances, tried not to get stale. And the reality of her new life hit her.
She was lonely. The show lasted nearly two hours. The applause lasted maybe ten minutes at the most. There was no real contact or interaction with the audience. The cast and crew were fabulous, fun. They were a kind of family. But she couldn’t quite get into it. Why was it that things were never quite how you imagined they would be?
Early in the mornings that followed, she snuggled deeper into her bed, hugged Tiger that little bit closer, and dreamed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS the matinee performance and Bella was taking the lead for the first time. She swallowed her nerves, but found they got stuck in her throat. So she stood in the wings and remembered the fierce look on Owen’s face when he’d told her she had to believe in herself.
Believe. Believe. Believe.
As the opening music started she closed her eyes, whispered it to herself one more time and then stepped onto the stage. Looking on it afterwards, the whole thing was a blur. But backstage everyone was effusive in their congratulations and support. Even the director was pleased and told her that if she kept up like that she’d be getting bigger parts very soon. Bittersweet success flavoured her mood as she tripped down the corridor to the dressing rooms.
She stopped. Owen was leaning against the wall outside her door.
She stared. Looked him up and down and up and down and again. Put a hand out to balance herself against the wall because her legs had gone lifeless.
At her dumbfounded appraisal his grin was boyish. ‘My mother taught me to dress for the theatre.’
‘Even the eleven a.m. matinee show with all the audience aged either under ten or over sixty?’
‘It’s still the theatre,’ he said smoothly.
She took a step closer. The tuxedo was devastating. The jacket fitting so well across his broad shoulders and tapering into his lean hips it just had to have been tailor-made.
Finally her heart started beating again—loud, painful thumping. ‘What are you doing here?’ She couldn’t believe it.
‘You were great.’ He’d lost the grin and was now serious and not quite meeting her eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ She strained to focus. She had to know.
‘You really were amazing on that stage.’
He spoke so softly, she almost wondered if he was talking to her or just himself.
‘Are you listening to me?’ What the hell was going on?
‘You have a real gift.’
She couldn’t handle any more of this madness.
‘I’m getting changed.’ She stalked straight past him, into the dressing room, and shut the door. She whipped off her costume, climbed into her usual skirt and top, and wiped off as much of the make-up as she could in thirty seconds. Then she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Had she just imagined that encounter? Was she finally going nuts?
Taking a deep, supposedly stabilising breath, she opened the door. He was leaning against the jamb right in front of her. The tux was no less magnificent. Her brain went fuzzy.
He straightened. ‘Can we go somewhere to talk?’
She searched his features, wanting him to meet her gaze. ‘Why are you here?’
He looked at her then, blue eyes blazing. ‘Why do you think?’
She expelled a sharp breath as everything inside quivered. She fought the sensation, tensing up—that look wasn’t enough. She wanted to hear it. Wanted to know—because what he was here for might not be enough for her. Anger and uncertainty and fear ripped through the delight in seeing him. ‘Are you ready to define us yet, Owen? Or are we still not applying labels?’
He glanced away, down the corridor, and she realised he too was tense all over. ‘Just give me a minute, Bella.’
‘You’re kidding,’ she snapped. ‘How much time do you need?’
‘Listen to you.’ His sharp smile flashed. ‘You really have got your act together.’
‘Don’t you patronise me.’ Frustration trammelled through her. She was ready to slam the door again—in his face.
But in a swift movement he put his hands on her hips and jerked her out of the doorway towards him. ‘Never.’
One arm snaked hard around her waist, pulling her home, while his other hand lifted, holding her head up to his as his mouth descended. Her body thudded into his as their lips connected and just like that her fight against him was gone, overtaken completely by desire and ultimately by love.
She was holding her head up all by herself and his hands were all over her, pressing, pulling her closer to his heat and strength. And still it wasn’t close enough. Shaking, she threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him, clutching at him, reaching up on tiptoe as her mouth clung to his—giving, seeking, taking, wanting more and more. Pure energy, electricity, sent sparks through her where they touched. She moaned into his mouth, feeling his response—harder, fiercer, deeper. The madness was back and she wanted it to last for ever.
He was the one who eased them out of it. His large hands taking her wrists, lowering them as he slowly lifted his head. For a second she strained up to follow. And then she heard it—the cacophony, the riot. She glanced to the side.
Oh, God, the entire cast and crew were in the corridor, watching them, catcalling and wolf-whistling and cheering.
She turned back and tried to tug free from his grip. She knew her cheeks were scarlet.
‘I did ask you to give me a minute.’ He grinned at her, but his hands were still tight, keeping her close. ‘To get us some privacy. But now I’m not letting go.’
‘My flat,’ she muttered. ‘It’s only a few minutes away.’
He guided her out of the theatre, holding her hand firmly. Still flushed, she could hardly summon a smile for her colleagues as they called goodbye, wished her well and made the odd laughingly crude comment.
‘And there was me thinking you liked an audience,’ Owen said dryly as they got outside. He opened the door to the waiting taxi. She didn’t question, just got in and gave the driver the address. Owen slid in the back seat beside her, reclaimed her hand and passed the time chatting to the taxi driver about the rugby.
But he said nothing as, trembling, she unlocked the door and led the way in. And when she turned in the tiny room and saw him behind her, looking at her with those brilliant eyes, the loneliness and heartache that she’d tried so hard to bury resurfaced in a crashing wave, crushing her. She couldn’t believe that he was here. And what if he still couldn’t give her everything she wanted? She couldn’t settle for less, but she had no choice. She was so bound to him, had such need for him, it terrified her. She blinked as her eyes stung, but still the world went blurry.
‘Ah, Bella.’ Husky, he reached for her, took her into his arms, wrapping them around her—strong and secure. ‘I’m sorry.’
She burrowed her face into his broad chest, gripped his lapels, a bundle of tension and fearful need.
But he said nothing more. For long moments he just cradled her gently, stroking his hand down her rigid back in a long, slow rhythm, until at last she felt her warmth returning, and could relax into him. His arms tightened.
And then she was the one who spoke. ‘Vita and my dad came to the show.’
‘I know.’
‘Opening night.’
‘I know.’
‘They’re coming again, when I’m the lead in Auckland.’
‘I know.’
More tears leaked from her eyes. It had all been him. ‘It means a
lot to me.’
‘I know.’
She took in a deep breath, shuddered with it. ‘Thank you.’ It was muffled, into his shoulder.
His fingers slid up, into her hair. His mouth moved on the top of her head. ‘They loved it. They love you.’
‘I know.’
‘He just wants you to be happy.’
‘Yeah.’
‘He thought that what made them happy would be the same thing to make you happy. But you’re different, Bella. You’re you. And you had to work it out for yourself.’
She nodded. ‘But what I thought would make me happy hasn’t.’
He lifted her chin, frowning at her tear-stained face. ‘You’re not happy?’
She shook her head. ‘Owen, I’m such a mess.’ Another tear spilt. ‘I thought I wanted all this, but I don’t.’
He looked deep into her eyes. ‘What do you want?’
You. She was sure he could read her answer. But she refused to say it; it sounded so pathetic. And he wasn’t all she wanted. She still wanted everything. ‘I’m not going to do the Australian leg of the tour. I’ll do New Zealand, but that’s it. It’s not what I want to do.’
His frown returned, bigger than before. ‘But, Bella—’
‘I miss the kids,’ she interrupted, wanting to explain before she lost the nerve. ‘I miss the direct contact. It’s make-up on, bright lights, but I can hardly see the audience. It’s a big theatre but it seems lonely. They applaud, they leave. By the time I’m scrubbed and changed, there’s no one there. There’s no interaction.’ She lifted her chin, determined to take pride in her decision. ‘I know being a children’s entertainer isn’t exactly the most highly rated job there is, but I’m good with them. I enjoy it. I’m going to go ahead and find my own venue and set up a business like you suggested. It was a good idea.’
He smiled then, a warm, encouraging smile. ‘Bella, that’s wonderful.’
Pleasure washed through her as she heard and saw his support. He believed in her and how she loved him for it and suddenly nothing else mattered. She’d take whatever he had, for however long, it would be enough—because she loved him.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he suddenly begged. ‘I’m not kissing you again until I’ve said what I have to say.’
She leaned that little closer into him and he groaned.
‘I’m coming on tour with you.’ He blurted the words out.
‘What?’ She jerked upright again.
‘I’m coming with you. Sorry if that’s not what you want, but that’s what’s happening.’ He spoke even faster. ‘I’m not spending another night apart from you.’ He bent his head. ‘Ever.’
She gasped at the rush of exhilaration. This kiss was even hungrier and more desperate than the one at the theatre. They clung, fierce, fevered. But again slowly, reluctantly, he drew back. He gripped her hands, stopping their frantic exploration, making her listen.
‘I can work with my laptop and mobile. I’ll have to fly to meetings every now and then, but I’ll be back for the night. Every night.’
She couldn’t stop the smile spreading as the glow inside grew stronger, becoming a solid flame of joy. ‘OK.’
‘And another thing,’ he continued after another crazy kiss, his hands failing to stop their own exploration this time, ‘the next family wedding you’re going to is your own.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.’ She gaped. ‘That it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on.’
‘You remember every stupid thing I’ve ever said, don’t you?’ he asked ruefully.
‘Some of it wasn’t so stupid.’ He’d changed her life, made her see everything so much clearer. And now her whole body seemed to be singing.
‘I want to marry you,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll never want anyone but you. But I need you to tell me if you’re not happy and I’ve not noticed.’
‘You’ll notice,’ she assured him. ‘You notice more about me than I do myself.’
‘But if I’m buried in work …’ He stopped, then almost whispered, ‘I don’t want to fail you.’
‘You won’t.’ She raised her hand to his cheek, gently smiling. ‘And if you do, I can always send you an email.’
‘You’d do that?’ He chuckled. ‘For me?’
‘I’d do anything for you,’ she quietly admitted, knowing he already knew that.
His arms tightened. ‘I never thought I could love anyone the way I love you.’ At last she saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he wholly opened up. ‘I want to be everything for you.’
‘You already are.’
He shook his head. ‘I want to do everything with you. I want to give you everything.’ He drew in a shaky breath. ‘I want you to have our children, Bella. I want your children.’
At that she closed her burning eyes tight, pressed them hard against his jacket again. ‘Me too,’ she said, and then drew a deep breath. ‘But maybe not for a while? I want to make the business work first.’ And she wanted to have some time just with him, to broaden their foundations before they had their family.
‘OK. You just say the word. When you’re ready, I’ll be ready.’
He was going to be there for her, for everything.
She reached up, pulled him down for her kiss and walked backwards, leading him to her tiny bedroom. He glanced around and she melted at the mix of relief and desire in his face. Her legs stumbled and he scooped her up.
‘Do me a favour.’ He lifted his mouth from hers for a moment.
‘Anything.’ She pulled it back to her.
‘When we get home, can you put on that bridesmaid’s dress?’
She paused then. ‘It’s hideous.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s beautiful.’
She undid his tie. ‘Your eyesight is dodgy from all that staring at screens.’
‘You have no idea the number of fantasies I’ve had involving that dress. All these long, lonely nights where I’ve had nothing but those pictures.’ He stole another quick kiss. ‘You have no idea how much I regret missing that wedding. I totally fell for you the minute I saw you in that bar—it was like nothing else. I should have held onto you then and there. Never let you go.’
She melted more. ‘It happened right. You were right. I needed to stand up and try. To discover what it was I wanted.’
‘And so did I.’ He turned and leaned back, landing them both on her bed. But he didn’t kiss her; instead he reached behind him, sliding his hand under the sheet and pulling out … Tiger.
Owen’s whole expression softened, the lights in his eyes warming, mouth twitching. ‘So you got him.’
She nodded. ‘He usually comes to the theatre with me but the others were joking about him and I was worried he’d go wandering.’
‘Well, sorry, tiger, there’s no room in here any more.’ He bent his arm back, about to throw him.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Bella scolded, taking the toy from him. ‘He’s been a good friend to me these past few days.’
‘Have you been cuddling him?’
‘Maybe.’ She tried to play it cool.
He grinned and took the toy from her. ‘What a good little tiger, keeping her arms occupied and scaring off any interlopers.’
‘As if I’d do that.’
‘It wasn’t you I was worried about,’ he teased. ‘It was all these showbiz boys and crew and groupies. They’ll all be panting after you.’
‘Half of them are gay.’
‘And half of them aren’t. I wanted tiger here to be the only thing in your arms. And you did a good job, didn’t you, boy? Well, I’m back now and you can go sleep somewhere else.’
He stood up and put the tiger on an armchair, facing away from the bed, slung her cardigan over him.
‘Happy now?’ His eyes were twinkling.
‘No,’ she answered—all tragedy—but she couldn’t hide the happiness any more. It burst out of her. ‘Not until you’re back here.’
He vaulted onto the bed, kissed her
and their passion, too long denied, erupted. As he rose, his strong body braced over hers, she spread her fingers wide across his chest and marvelled. She simply couldn’t believe she was going to have it all.
‘How did I get so lucky?’
‘It isn’t luck, Bella,’ he muttered as he pushed home. ‘It’s what you deserve.’ He drew closer still. ‘You deserve everything.’
She arched, reaching to meet him, wanting to give him as much as he was giving her, so that together they would have it all. And, as his murmurs of love melded to her moans, and the feeling of bliss between their bodies grew, she knew.
She’d succeeded.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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EXOTIC NIGHTS © Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l 2013