by Sarah Morgan
She found him sitting on a stool by the bar, and everything inside her seemed to lurch as she looked at him. He wore a slightly rumpled suit, his tie loosened, and in the glint of the bar’s dim lighting she could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw. His head was bowed and he held a half-drunk tumbler of whisky in his hand. She stared at him almost as she would a stranger, for he looked so different and yet so much the same. So sexy.
Then he glanced up and as he caught sight of her it was as if that sexy stranger had been replaced by a mannequin. His face went blank, his eyes veiled even as his lips curved in a meaningless smile and he crossed the patio towards her.
‘Aurelie.’ He kept his gaze firmly on her face, that cool, professional smile in place. He didn’t offer her a hand to shake or touch her in any way. Stupidly, she felt his chilly withdrawal like a personal rejection.
No, she would not let this be personal. This was her chance at a comeback, and to hell with Luke Bryant.
‘Luke.’ She nodded back at him, tried to ignore the painful pounding of her heart. This didn’t hurt.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Just sparkling water, please.’
Luke signalled to the bartender and ushered her towards a private table tucked in the corner, shaded by a palm tree.
‘Trip all right?’ he asked briskly. ‘Your suite?’
‘Everything’s lovely.’
‘Good.’
The bartender came with their drinks and Aurelie sipped hers gratefully. She had no idea what to say to this man. She didn’t know this man. And she knew that shouldn’t be a surprise.
‘So everything is set for tomorrow,’ he said, still all brisk business. ‘I have a staff person on site, Lia, who will tour you around the store, get you sorted for the performance at three.’
Aurelie stared at his blank eyes and brisk smile and thought suddenly, You’re lying. So much for honesty. This whole conversation was forced, fake. A lie.
Yet she had no idea what he really felt. Was he disgusted with her, with who he thought she was? You’re Aurelie.
Or could she dare hope that some remnant remained of the man who had smiled at her with such compassion, such understanding, and seemed to believe she was different?
No, she didn’t dare. There was no point.
‘That all sounds fine,’ she said, and he nodded.
‘Good.’ He hadn’t finished his drink, but he pushed it away from him, clearly done. ‘I’m afraid I have quite a lot of work to do, but I’ll probably see you at the opening.’
Probably? Aurelie felt her throat go tight and took another sip of water. Somehow she managed a breezy smile. ‘That sounds fine,’ she said again, knowing she was being inane, but then he was too. This whole conversation was ridiculous. And a desperate part of her still craved something real.
‘Fine,’ Luke said, and with one more nod he rose from the chair. Aurelie rose too. She hadn’t finished her water but neither was she about to sit in the bar alone. So that was it. Yet what had she really expected?
Even so, she could not keep a sense of desolation from sweeping emptily through her as Luke strode away from the bar without a backward glance.
* * *
That went well. Not. Luke tugged his tie from his collar and blew out his breath. He knew he didn’t possess the charm of his brother Chase or Aaron’s unending arrogance, but he could definitely have handled that conversation better. He’d been trying to keep it brisk and professional, but every time he looked at her he remembered how she’d felt in his arms, how much emotion and desire she’d stirred up in him, and business went right out of the window.
Maybe it wasn’t actually Aurelie who was doing this to him. Maybe he was just out of practice. He hadn’t had sex in a while, and he’d always been careful with his partners. A relationship came first with him, always had, because he’d never wanted to be like his father, going after everything in a skirt and ruining his mother’s life in the process.
But maybe if he’d indulged in a few more flings, he wouldn’t be feeling so...lost now. He’d gone over their encounter—was there really another word for it?—far too many times in his mind. Wondered when it had started to go wrong, and why. Had Aurelie been setting him up, the way he’d believed? Proving her damn point that he’d only come there to get into her bed? It seemed obvious, and yet a gut-deep instinct told him it wasn’t the whole story.
He remembered the raw ache in her voice when she’d spoken to him. I like how you say my name. The way her fingers had trailed down his cheek, eager and hesitant at the same time, the tremble of her slender body against his. She’d felt something then. Something real.
And then she’d gone so horribly still beneath him and he’d felt as if he were...attacking her. He’d never felt so repulsed, so ashamed.
The best thing to do, he told himself now, the only thing to do, was to avoid her. Easier for both of them. He’d only suggested this meeting as a way to clear the air, draw a firm line under what had happened. And that at least had been accomplished, even if he still felt far from satisfied in any way.
As he headed back up to his suite, Luke had a feeling the next ten days were going to be a whole new kind of hell.
* * *
Aurelie stood to the side of the makeshift stage in Bryant’s lobby and tried not to hyperventilate. A thousand people mingled in the soaring space, all modern chrome and glass, so different from the historic and genteel feeling of the New York store.
She’d spent the morning with Lia, touring all ten floors of the store on Ayala Avenue and then running through sound checks and getting ready. And trying not to think about what lay ahead.
What was happening now, with the crowd waiting for her to walk out and be Aurelie.
Fear washed coldly through her, made her dizzy. At least she’d checked her blood sugar. If she passed out now, it would simply be from nerves.
‘Thirty seconds.’ The guy who was doing the sound nodded towards her, and somehow Aurelie nodded back. She was miked, ready to go—and terrified.
She peeped out at the audience, saw the excited crowd, some of them clutching posters or CDs for her to sign. They were, she knew, expecting her to prance out there and sing Take Me Down or one of the other boppy, salacious numbers that had made her famous. They wanted her to sing and shimmy and be outrageous, and she was going to come out in her jeans, holding her guitar, and give everyone an almighty shock.
What had she been thinking, agreeing to this? What had Luke been thinking, suggesting it? It wasn’t going to work. It was all going to go hideously, horribly wrong, for the store, for her, for everyone, and it was too late to do anything about it.
She closed her eyes, terror racing through her.
I can’t do this. I can’t change.
She wished, suddenly and desperately, that Luke were here. A totally stupid thing to want considering how cold he’d been to her last night, but just the memory of his voice, his tender, gentle look when he’d said her song was amazing gave her a little surge of both longing and courage.
‘You’re on.’
On wobbly, jelly-like legs she walked onto the stage. Considering she’d played sold-out concerts in the biggest arenas in the world, she should not be feeling nervous. At all. This was a tiny stage, a tiny audience. This was nothing.
And yet it was everything.
She felt the ripple of uneasy surprise go through the audience at the sight of her, felt it like a serpent slithering round the room, ready to strike. Already she was not what anybody had expected.
She sat on the stool in the centre of the stage, hooked her feet around the rungs and looked up to stare straight at Luke. He stood at the back of the lobby near the doors, but it was a small enough space she could make out his expression completely.
He looked cold, hard and com
pletely unyielding. Their gazes met and, his mouth thinning, he looked away. Aurelie tensed, felt herself go brittle, shiny.
‘Give us a song,’ someone called out, impatience audible. ‘Give us Aurelie!’
Well, that was easy enough. That was who she was. Drawing a deep breath, she started to play.
* * *
Luke stood in the back of the lobby waiting for Aurelie to come on, battling a disagreeable mix of anxiety and impatience. He’d been deliberately avoiding her since their drink together last night, had convinced himself that it was the best way forward. Yet, standing there alone, he felt an irritating needle of doubt prick his conscience.
Avoidance had never been his style. Avoidance meant letting someone down, and that was something he never intended to do again. He’d worked hard all his adult life to exorcise the ghosts of his past, to earn the trust and respect of those around him.
Even Aurelie’s.
He didn’t like the thought of her getting ready for this performance on her own. He knew this had to be pretty terrifying for her. He should have sought her out, offered her—what? Some encouragement?
He knew where that led.
No, it was better this way. It had to be. And it wasn’t as if Aurelie actually needed him.
Luke heard the ripple of uneasy surprise move through the audience as she walked onto the stage. She looked vibrant and beautiful in a beaded top and jeans, her hair loose about her shoulders. Then she looked at him, her eyes so wide and clear, and a sudden, sharp longing pierced him. He looked away.
Someone called out, and Aurelie started to play. It took him a few stunned seconds to realise she wasn’t singing the song he’d heard in her house back in Vermont. She was singing one of her old hits, the same boppy number she’d sung in New York, but this time to acoustic guitar. She glanced up from her guitar, gave the audience a knowing, dirty smile. A classic Aurelie look, and one Luke already hated. Everyone cheered.
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.
He looked so serious when he talked to people. He frowned too much. He stood stiffly, almost to attention. Yet, despite all of it, Aurelie knew he was being himself. Being real.
Something she was too afraid to be.
She’d been resigned to giving up the rest of the tour and going back to Vermont. Staying safe. Being a coward. Yet four hours later Aurelie resisted the thought of slinking away like a scolded child. Never mind what Luke thought, what anyone in the audience thought or even wanted. She needed to do this for herself.
Yet the realisation filled her only with an endless ache of exhaustion. She didn’t think she had the strength to go on acting as if she didn’t care when she did, so very much.
Wearily she kicked off her heels and stripped the clothes from her body. She needed a stingingly hot shower to wipe away all the traces of today. She knew Luke had said he wanted to talk to her, but the last time she’d seen him he’d been in deep discussion with several official-looking types. He’d probably forgotten all about her and the things he supposedly needed to say.
Fifteen minutes later, just as she’d slipped into a T-shirt and worn yoga pants, a knock sounded on the door. Aurelie sucked in a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair, still damp from her shower. A peep through the eyehole confirmed her suspicions. Luke hadn’t forgotten about her after all.
She opened the door and something inside her tugged hard at the sight of him, his hair a little mussed, his suit a little rumpled. He looked tired.
‘Long day?’ she asked and he nodded tersely.
‘You could say that. May I come i
n?’
He always asked, she thought. Always asked her permission. Strangely, stupidly, it touched her. ‘Okay.’
She stepped aside and Luke came into the sitting area of the suite. She saw his glance flick to the bedroom, visible through an open door, the wide bed piled high with silken pillows.
Then he turned back to face her with a grim, iron-hard resolution. ‘We need to talk.’
With a shrug she spread her hands wide and moved to sit on the sofa, as though she were actually relaxed. ‘Then talk.’
He let out a long, low breath. ‘I’m sorry about the way things happened back in Vermont. I didn’t want it to be like that between us.’
He looked so intent, so sincere, that mockery felt like her only defence. ‘Us, Bryant?’
‘Don’t call me Bryant. My name is Luke and, considering we almost slept together, I think you can manage my first name.’
She tensed. ‘Almost being the key word. That doesn’t give you some kind of right—’
‘I’m not talking about rights, just common civility.’ He sat across from her, his hands on his thighs, his face still grim. ‘I’m being honest here, Aurelie—’
‘Sorry,’ she drawled, ‘that doesn’t score any Brownie points. I already know you can’t be anything else.’
‘Just stop it,’ he bit out. ‘Stop it with the snappy one-liners and the bored tone and world-weary cynicism—’
‘My, that’s quite a list—’
‘Stop.’ He leaned forward, his face twisting with frustration or maybe even anger. ‘Stop being so damn fake.’
She stilled. Said nothing, because suddenly she had nothing to say. She’d defaulted to her Aurelie persona, to the bored indifference she used as a shield, but Luke saw through it all. He stared at her now, those dark eyes blazing, burning right through her. She swallowed and looked down at her lap. ‘What do you want from me?’ she asked in a low voice.