“You can't just—”
They both jumped when someone pounded on the door. “Rhys! Melina. Open up. We've got trouble.”
It was Max. Melina jumped to her feet as Rhys answered the door.
Max strode in. After taking in Melina's makeup and eyebrow-raising outfit, as well as their grim expressions, he shook his head. “Great. I can see things are going swell in here, too.”
“What is it?”
Max eyes radiated regret. “Someone got into the theater after practice. I came back because I'd forgotten to lock up and…”
“And what?” Rhys prompted.
“And the Metamorphosis rack's been destroyed.”
Melina gasped and immediately covered her mouth with both hands.
“What?” Rhys whispered. He dropped into the chair that still sat prominently displayed in the center of the room. He saw Melina move toward him, then stop. That hurt more than what Max had to say next.
“Someone took an ax to it. It's in pieces. There's no way you'll be able to fix it. Not before the show tomorrow.”
* * *
Two days later, Melina was in her lab, trying to focus on her current experiment. It was a little tough when her eyes kept tearing up and she had to excuse herself yet again so she could cry in private.
She'd called Max first thing this morning, and he'd told her that Seven Seas had decided to book the Salvador brothers as their permanent act. When Melina had asked about Rhys, Max had laughed bitterly. “Rhys's gonna be fine, Melina. He'll bounce back with something that will make Seven Seas come crawling back to us on their knees, I guarantee it. Recovering from what you did to him isn't going to be quite so easy.”
She'd stiffened at the censure in his tone. “Me? I didn't—”
“You couldn't get away from here fast enough, could you? The moment you weren't needed for the act, you left.”
“I talked to you and Rhys. I asked you if you needed me for anything, and you both said no. Rhys wouldn't even talk to me.”
“He was upset, and when he's upset he withdraws. That's just how he is. He told me what happened in your room before I interrupted.”
She sucked in her breath, appalled. Rhys had told Max about her corset and crop? The handcuffs? She nearly moaned in horror, but Max kept talking.
“He told me he asked you to stay with him. That he loved you. And that you threw it back in his face.”
“I-I didn't,” she protested. “I did no such thing. I just…I just didn't have a chance to answer. You came into the room and everything was a mess and—”
“And you got on a plane and flew home. That was your answer, Melina. And Rhys knows it.”
By the time she'd hung up with Max, Melina had almost been paralyzed with doubt. She'd only wanted to get home so she could think, but had getting on the plane been her answer? Wasn't she entitled to think things through before she changed her life so drastically? She was still questioning herself, what she'd done, and what she wanted when she returned to the lab. Instead of work flying by like it normally did, the hours passed painfully slow, and even then she'd gotten next to nothing done.
When she got home, she had a message on her machine. Her heart beating fast, she played it back, hoping it was Rhys. It was her mother, telling her to call her right away.
Melina picked up the phone and dialed the number her mother had left.
Her mother answered the phone.
“Hi, Mom,” she said.
“Hi, honey. Thanks for calling me back. We'll only have access to a phone for a couple of days until the Vietnam tour starts.”
“Vietnam? I thought you were still in China?”
“We left China days ago, dear. Now, tell me, how are you?”
Melina swallowed hard and tried to answer calmly. Instead, she released a ragged, pain-filled sob.
“Oh, no. Honey, what's wrong?”
It all poured out of her. Her feelings for Rhys. The challenge Grace had thrown down. Max’s set up with the rooms. The lake and the incredible sex and the way Melina had alternately felt welcomed and alienated once they'd arrived in Reno. By the time she'd stopped talking, her voice was raspy. There was only silence on the other end of the line.
Melina covered her eyes with her hand, appalled that she'd just unloaded on her quiet, reserved mother, especially when she was so far away and couldn't do anything to help anyway. “It's okay,” she reassured her. “I'm okay. I just need to accept who I am and what I want. You did that. That's why you left acting, isn't it? Because you were more suited to the type of life Daddy led.”
“Oh, please, Melina,” her mother said. “You don't really believe that, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I did not leave acting because that life didn't suit me. I left it because I thought that’s what I needed to do in order to keep your father. His parents were very conservative and didn't approve of acting. To them, it was the same thing as being a whore. I wanted their approval almost as much as I wanted your father. So I gave up my passion for acting and was fortunate to be blessed with a different kind of passion.”
“Passion again,” she murmured. Her mother was describing exactly what Melina had told Lucy didn't exist. Inside her, hope fluttered its wings like a butterfly just emerging from its cocoon. “So that's what I should do? I mean, you're obviously happy. You don't have regrets—”
Her mother laughed. “Honey, I have plenty of regrets. And I'm certainly not telling you to follow in my footsteps and give up your life just to be with Rhys.”
“So you're saying I was right to come back?”
“No.”
“No,” Melina echoed. Frustration made her next words harsher than she intended. “Well, what are you saying, Mom? Because I need to know what's the right thing to do.”
“There is no right or wrong answer, Melina. Things will be what you demand they be.”
Pulling the phone from her ear, she stared at it, certain a foreign creature must have inhabited her mother's body. Her mother didn't talk like that. Rhys did.
Walking into the living room, she put the phone back to her ear. “I don't understand,” she breathed. She picked up the picture of Max and Rhys with their dates, the one she'd focused on before propositioning Max. “I'm looking at a picture of Rhys and Max after they won their award in Vegas. They're with their dates, and I…I'm having a hard time picturing myself with them.”
“That's because you're looking at the wrong picture. You've got tons of pictures with just you and Rhys. Pull those out and look at them. Ask yourself what you see.”
“I know what I'll see. Me. As plain and boring as ever.” But she wasn't a dominatrix either, at least not one who liked to wear leather and use a crop. Not when Rhys wasn't into it. Even now, she winced at how she'd treated him, acting cold because she'd wanted him to feel as vulnerable as she did.
“If that's what you see, you're focusing on the wrong person. Instead of focusing on yourself, focus on Rhys. Then ask yourself what you see.”
“But Mom—”
“I'm sorry, sweetie, but I have to go. I love you.”
Her mother hung up, leaving Melina to ponder her final words. She put down the framed picture of Rhys and Max, and pulled out the boxes of loose photos she kept under her bed. Then she laid a bunch out, pulling out the ones that showed her with Rhys. Since she'd known him for years, there were enough to cover her queen bedspread. She walked around the bed, studying them, trying to ignore her own image and whether she looked fat or was having a bad-hair day. She focused on Rhys, on the expression on his face, on the way he was often looking at her rather than at the camera lens.
And she saw exactly what her mother had wanted her to see.
She saw the difference between the Rhys in her photos and the one in the frame in her living room. She saw the difference in his expression. She saw the happiness that she brought to him. The same happiness that he'd always made her feel.
She called her mother back immediat
ely.
“Mom, I know you have to go, but can I just say one thing?”
“Sure, honey.”
“I'm a fool.”
Her mother laughed. “All scientists must eventually face that which eludes them. Usually, that's right before a grand discovery changes their lives.”
“Do you regret giving up your acting for Dad?”
“Yes. But do I regret my life with your father? Not at all. I shortchanged myself, and in doing so I shortchanged your father. You certainly don't need to do the same. I'm sure you can find a way to make your lives mesh into something you'll both be happy with.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dalton's Magic Rule #14: Reveal all the cards in your deck and be willing to make a fool of yourself.
With the stage lights shining down on him, Rhys smiled and moved fluidly through the act's closing number. He didn't miss a beat, and the audience was right there with him, a sea of smiling faces that, at least for the night, wanted to believe that life was more than what could be rationally explained. On the inside, he was on autopilot. There was no kick. No rush of adrenaline. No pride that he'd invented over half the tricks in the show.
All he could think about was Melina. He winced inside every time he thought of that last night. She'd done exactly what he'd asked her to do—taken a risk and tried to please him. Yes, she'd gone too far, and she'd been motivated by fear more than desire, but he should have been more careful in pointing that out. Instead, he'd done exactly what her former boyfriends had done—made her feel inadequate. Granted, that hadn't been his intent, but he'd screwed up so bad it's no wonder she'd ignored his declaration of love and gotten on a plane the first chance she got.
Max signaled to him from the right wing, indicating it was time to call the final volunteer from the audience. Rhys nodded, grateful that the end was near. Once the crowd was gone, he'd tell Max what he'd decided. If Melina couldn't stomach living in his world, then he'd have to live in hers. It might be tough at first, but Max was a great magician. If he needed Rhys's help, he'd be there for him, but he was through with touring. He'd already told his parents, who'd offered only their support and well wishes.
He loved Melina. If he had any chance of winning her back, that's what he was going to do.
With Amanda and Tina backed into the shadows downstage, he moved upstage. “Now, for my final trick, I'm going to need the assistance of someone from the audience.” Half the audience raised their hands, and Rhys smiled naughtily. “Actually, I should have been specific. I'm going to need a volunteer who’s wearing a skirt.” Three-quarters of the hands went down. Rhys grinned. “Let's narrow that down even more. A female volunteer who’s wearing a skirt.”
Several men laughed and lowered their hands.
Max walked into the audience, approached a dark-haired woman, and began leading her toward the stage. “Ah, lovely. Please step right up here, ma'am.”
They moved closer, and Rhys narrowed his eyes, straining to see past the glare of the stage lights. He sucked in a startled breath when he recognized Melina. “Melina?” he said, forgetting he was wearing a mic. Her name echoed throughout the theater.
“Yes, it's Melina, everyone.” Max helped Melina up the stage steps, then used his own mic to introduce her. “Melina has volunteered to place herself in Rhys's capable hands, so let's give her a big round of applause.”
Rhys could only stare at her. Her eyes were like saucers, and her pale skin was flushed a splotchy red. Her legs were bare, and she wore the same high heels she'd worn with the corset, but her light, pale-green coat covered what she wore. With two hands, she gripped the coat closed, as if she feared he was going to rip it off her.
“Honey,” Rhys said, no longer caring who heard him. “You don't have to—”
Max led Melina to the center of the stage and, with a flourish, indicated Rhys should get started. When he hesitated, Max sidled up to him, covered his mic, and gritted, “The sooner you do the damn trick, the sooner you can get her off stage. You might want to do that before she passes out.”
“Why—”
But Max walked off, and Rhys stepped closer to Melina. She looked at him, her mouth trembling. Then she lifted her chin and smiled, a sweet, brave smile. He reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. “Do it,” she whispered.
Snapping out of his daze, Rhys pulled out his scarves. They weren't the same ones they'd used in Lake Shasta—he'd retired those to his dresser drawer. He showed the audience two white scarves, then knotted them together. Then he turned to Melina. “Ma'am, can you tuck these under the edge of your skirt, please?”
Melina took the scarves with one hand, keeping a death grip on her coat with the other, and awkwardly tucked them under the bottom of her coat. Stooped over, she looked up at him questioningly. Rhys cleared his throat. “Good. Now, can you tell me what color underwear you're wearing?”
Melina's eyes got even wider. “W-why?” she stuttered.
Rhys smiled and turned to the audience. “Smart woman. Always ask questions before you tell a strange man anything about your panties.”
The audience laughed, and Melina just stared at him, frozen and silent. They'd never rehearsed this particular trick in front of her, so he told her so she wouldn't be nervous.
“If you tell me what color your underwear is, I'm going to make a scarf of that exact same color magically appear, tied between the two scarves you've got under your skirt.”
She smiled. “Really? You can do that? That's amazing.”
“I can do a lot of things with my hands that would amaze you.”
The audience laughed, but he barely heard them. He and Melina smiled at one another, and for the first time in days, the tension eased out of him.
Things were going to be okay.
Melina straightened, letting the tied scarves flutter to the floor. “Instead of telling you what color my underwear is, can I show you?”
Rhys's eyes rounded. He laughed nervously and jerked his head at the crowd that had suddenly gone quiet. “Honey, I know I tend to make a woman forget where she is, but we've still got an audience here.”
“I know,” she said. “But I'm making a point.” She grasped the edges of her coat.
Rhys reached out to stop her. “Melina, don't—”
She whipped her coat off and dropped it on the floor.
The audience went wild.
From downstage, Amanda and Tina whistled.
From stage right, Max whooped and pumped his fist.
Rhys just stared.
He knew that when he died, hopefully only after a long, full life with Melina, he'd picture her at this exact moment—scared out of her mind, but holding her own, her shoulders back, her chin up, and a challenge in her eyes daring him or anyone else to respond less than positively to her bikini-clad body.
Her smoking-hot, he-wished-they-were-alone-so-he-could-jump-her body.
Damn, he was good, he thought, noting that the black and red polka dot bikini hugged her curves in all the best places.
The audience quieted, and still Rhys didn't move or speak.
Melina narrowed her eyes and peered more closely at him. That's when he realized Melina wasn't wearing her glasses.
“Where are your glasses?”
She frowned. “In…in my coat.”
Rhys snatched up the coat and searched the pockets until he found her glasses. Carefully, he slipped them on her nose. She blinked at him. He grinned.
“When you want to make a point, you go all out, don't you?”
“Being in love with a professional magician isn't going to be easy. I have to upstage you every now and then.”
“So you're in love with me?”
Melina nodded. “For years.”
“Love, as in love, love?”
“Love, love,” she echoed.
He dipped his head and kissed her, a reverent meeting of lips that drew an “aww” from the audience. Throwing her arms around him, she buried her face in his chest
. “Can we get off stage now?”
“You bet.” Rhys turned to Max. “Can you take over here?”
Max strode up to them, hugged them, then turned to the audience. “Talk about a tough act to follow. Now, ladies, who's wearing something that can compete with that bikini?”
The audience roared as Rhys helped her into her coat and off the stage. He ushered her into his dressing room before sweeping her off her feet and twirling her around. His hands immediately wandered inside her coat, and hers followed suit, tugging off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt faster than he thought possible. She was working the fly of his pants when she suddenly stopped. “Wait. I forgot something.”
Rhys groaned. “Can it wait? I'm right in the middle of a performance here.”
She giggled and stroked him through his pants, delighting in his groan of pleasure. “It'll just take a second, I promise.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“I'm ready to answer the pop quiz now,” she said.
Rhys laughed. “Okay,” he repeated.
“What would I do to have you?” she reminded him. “That's what you asked me.”
“I haven't forgotten. So what's your answer?”
Reaching into her bikini top, she pulled out the small booklet she'd tucked against her breast.
He stared at it. “It's your passport.”
“That's right. Now open it.”
He did. Stuck in between the blank pages was the paper lizard he'd given her so long ago. “You kept it.”
“I didn't answer you before, and I'm so sorry about that. I love you. If you still want me to, I want to be part of your life. I can't travel all the time because I know that won't make me happy. But I don't think that's what will make you happy either.”
“So what are you proposing?”
“I propose that we put our heads together and do what we do best.”
“Tell me,” he whispered.
“What else? We're going to make magic,” she whispered back.
Epilogue
Dalton's Rule of Magic #15: The show must go on.
Melina looked up as Rhys walked into the house. He sighed as he put down his briefcase and loosened his tie, everything about him radiating exhaustion. Concerned, she strode toward him. He smiled when he saw her. “Hey, Ladybug.”
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