Shadows in the Limelight

by Sandra K Rhoades

  She held her breath as she waited for him to answer.

  ‘I would love to,’ he responded, and she could breathe again.

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ She was unaware that he had heard the relief in her voice and had started to grin. She cleared her throat. ‘Mmm ... I don’t have a car, so will it be OK if you meet me there?’

  ‘Why don’t you let me pick you up at your apartment?’ he suggested, and then reading her next thought, added, ‘And I’ll be taking care of the bill, by the way.’

  ‘I couldn’t let you do that. I—’

  ‘Don’t argue ... I won’t come otherwise.’

  ‘Oh ... in that case...’

  ‘Fine. Seven o’clock at your apartment?’

  ‘I’ll see you then,’ she agreed. She was still smiling long after she had gently replaced the receiver in its cradle.

  ‘You look very lovely tonight, Cat,’ Kent commented after the waiter left to fill their order.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled warmly at him, her eyes glowing in the candlelight. She was happy, happier than she could ever remember having been in her life before. She had been out to dinner often with Kent in the past month and every time she saw him, she fell a little more under his spell as he charmed her into forgetting her misgivings about being seen with him. It was only when she was alone that doubts surfaced. And these she refused to think about. Just as she refused to examine her own feelings towards him.

  ‘Cat, I’ve something I want to ask you,’ Kent said a moment later. ‘Peter Castle is giving a small dinner party tomorrow night and I’d like you to accompany me.’

  ‘Tomorrow night?’ she asked cautiously, her smile flickering.

  ‘That’s right. It’s mainly a social evening, though I can’t guarantee that we won’t talk some business. Some of the people who will be there are quite influential politically and I’ll be trying to gain their support for my candidacy in the next election,’ he said frankly, studying her intently. ‘I want you to come with me.’

  ‘Tomorrow night?’ Catherine repeated, stalling for time. ‘That isn’t much notice ... I really don’t think I can make it.’

  ‘You’re busy?’ Kent asked sharply, his eyes narrowing, though she sensed he wasn’t surprised by her answer.

  ‘Well, I’m very behind at the shop. I—I ... the bills. I have to send out the bills day after tomorrow. I’ll need to work on them tomorrow night.’

  Catherine looked at Kent, trying to gauge how effective her excuse had been. She saw a flash of impatient anger cross his face and knew it hadn’t been very well received. Kent was growing more irritated as time went on with her thinly veiled excuses for refusing to be seen anywhere with him where they might encounter the press or his friends. Her adamant refusal to discuss the past didn’t help matters, either.

  ‘You never can make it, can you, Cat?’ he said softly, his voice terse with anger.

  She attempted to divert him. ‘I don’t know what you mean. I do have a business to run and I have to attend to it.’

  ‘Look, Cat,’ he said abruptly, ‘let’s stop playing games. I want to know what’s going on.’

  Catherine shook her head, knowing she was being backed into a corner. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. This is the third time I’ve asked you to accompany me somewhere when we’ll be with a group and every time you’ve come up with some excuse. Why?’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that maybe I’m just not interested in standing around talking politics all night?’ she asked defensively.

  ‘Is that it? I don’t think so. There’s something else. I don’t know what it is, but I sure as hell would like to. Last week, when we were having dinner and Todd Black the reporter walked in? I wanted to take you over to meet him and suddenly you developed a violent headache, so I had to take you home instead.’ His eyes pinned hers.

  ‘Are you saying I didn’t have a headache? That I lied?’

  ‘Well, did you? I get the distinct impression that you don’t want anyone to know that you’re Cat Devlin.’

  Catherine knew she had paled and only hoped Kent wouldn’t notice in the dim lighting. ‘Don’t be silly, Kent,’ she prevaricated, forcing a light laugh past her tight throat. ‘Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?’

  ‘Is it ridiculous?’ he asked, studying her. ‘That first time I saw you, I noticed you seemed angry with your friend Nancy when she told me who you were. At the time, I just thought maybe you were embarrassed because I walked in when you were singing.’

  ‘Well, I was embarrassed,’ Catherine seized on the excuse he had given her. ‘I mean, my career as a singer is finished and I don’t think it’s necessary that everyone knows what I used to do for a living.’

  ‘But is that all it is? When I introduced you to Peter Castle as Cat Devlin, you jumped about a foot. Since then, you’ve made darn good and sure I don’t have the opportunity of introducing you to anyone else. Every time I ask you out, you give me the third degree before you’ll accept!’

  ‘I thought you understood why I can’t accept every invitation you extend. My business doesn’t run itself. It’s only natural that I’m sometimes too busy to go out with you.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ he continued stubbornly. ‘Every time I bring up your former career, you choke me off. You’ve told me all about your business, your friends, but never your singing career—or anything that happened before then, either. It’s like you were born in that flower shop!’

  ‘I don’t like raking over the past.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m a florist now, not Cat Devlin the singer. I had that life, and I left it. People seem to think because you have a career on stage, they have a right to know everything that you do off stage. But I don’t live in the limelight anymore and now I can demand my right to privacy.’ Catherine ran her hand over her forehead, before looking back at him. ‘I loved my brother, but Casey’s gone, he’s dead. As far as I’m concerned, Cat died with him. I’m content with my life now: I don’t want to dredge up what happened five years ago.’

  Fortunately, the waiter arrived with their salads just then and they leaned back to allow him to serve them. For several minutes, they ate in tension-filled silence. Although the salad was delicious, Catherine had to force herself to eat it.

  After a few minutes, Kent pushed his plate away. ‘I can accept that you would prefer not to discuss your past, but that doesn’t explain why you continually refuse to meet my friends or accompany me to any functions when there’s a chance our relationship might be publicised.’

  Catherine sighed unhappily, knowing she would have to give him some sort of explanation. Finally, she said, ‘I don’t accept your invitations because I know you’ll introduce me as Cat Devlin. As soon as people find out who I am, they want to know all about my career, my brother, my whole life, and I’d rather avoid all that.’

  ‘Are your memories of that time in your life so painful?’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ Catherine said flatly.

  For several moments Kent remained silent, studying her. Nervously, Catherine toyed with her cutlery, wishing he would just drop the whole thing. He reached out his hand, covering hers as it fingered her spoon. ‘Catherine, look at me,’ he commanded gently, and she was compelled to look up at him. ‘If your memories are painful, running away from them won’t make them go away. You gave up a very successful career five years ago, but it didn’t bring your brother back. Refusing to acknowledge that part of your life now isn’t going to do it either. It isn’t natural. It’s time you came to terms with your past. Pretending the Devlins didn’t exist doesn’t solve anything.’

  She gave her head a helpless little shake. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t explain, but my past, my brother ... it's better to just forget all that.’

  ‘No, it isn’t better,’ he persisted. Catherine made a denying gesture and tried to extract her hand, but his grip tightened. ‘I’m tr
ying to help you get your life into perspective.’

  ‘I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is,’ she asserted impatiently, managing to free her hand. ‘I don’t want to get it into “perspective”.’

  Irritation settled on his face, his lips drawing into a fine line. Finally he broke the silence. ‘I’m going to put my cards on the table, Cat. I like you, I want to keep seeing you, but dammit, I have a lot of social commitments in my life. I need a woman at my side when I attend these affairs, and I want that woman to be you.’

  Catherine remained silent, her emotions a curious mixture of misery and joy. Kent wanted her at his side, but how could she be there? If Rick ever found out he would hound her into finishing her contract with him. And that she could not face—not Rick, not performing, ever again. As far as she was concerned, as she had told Kent, Cat Devlin was dead. That way she did not have to face up to the pain of betrayal by those she had loved and trusted.

  Kent studied her lowered head for several moments, then said softly, ‘I thought you felt something for me, that we’ve been growing closer over the past few weeks.’

  ‘I—I am fond of you, Kent,’ Catherine replied. She looked up suddenly, smiling slightly. ‘If I agreed to go to these places you want me to, couldn’t you introduce me as Catherine Delaney?’

  ‘Wouldn’t that just be avoiding the issue, the way you’ve avoided it for five years?’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. You are Cat Devlin,’ he said forcefully. ‘It’s time you stopped pretending that you aren’t.’ When she stayed silent, looking away from him, he tried a different tack, ‘You say you’re fond of me. Haven’t you ever considered how much you could help me?’

  'What do you mean?’

  Kent hesitated briefly, then said, ‘The name of Cat Devlin is still remembered in this town. It would be good publicity for my career to have it known that I’m seeing you.’

  ‘I ... see,’ Catherine said slowly, wishing she didn’t. She felt the dull thump of her heart as his words penetrated her numbed mind. Suddenly the conversation had taken on a completely different complexion. It had been a long time since someone had dated her just because she was Cat Devlin, singer. It used to be an accepted part of her life, just as she had dated men she didn’t particularly care for, because they were good for her image. But Kent she had cared for. She felt a coldness deep inside her as she began to take in how much she cared for him—despite the fact that he had just admitted he only saw her as a useful prop—a publicity stunt. Catherine concentrated on her wineglass, rolling the stem between her fingers, watching the pale liquid sparkle in the candlelight, as she realised just how often Kent called her Cat instead of Catherine. All the doubts she had refused to face rushed into her mind. She was being betrayed again. As much by her own delusions as by the man sitting opposite her. But it hurt.

  Kent reached across the table and took her fingers. ‘Do you, Cat?'

  She neatly extracted her hand, giving him a cool smile that masked all feeling. ‘I understand perfectly. You’re far from the first man to take me out to further his image.’ She took a swallow of wine, her throat dry.

  He muttered something under his breath, then said, ‘That isn’t what I said. Try to understand. My political career is very important to me. I’ve invested a lot of myself in it, but so have others. I’ve had a lot of support from my family and friends. Wouldn't you like to make your contribution?’

  ‘As Cat Devlin?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kent said firmly. ‘It will do you as much good as it will me. If the past is painful for you, you should face it.’

  Catherine studied him intently, her hurt turned to anger. ‘You hypocritical bastard! You must think I’m a complete fool. You couldn’t care less about me, whether I “get my life into perspective”. All you want is to trade on the name of Cat Devlin. Unfortunately, Mr. Latimer, I don’t intend to let you. I can see absolutely no benefit to be derived from continuing to see you,’ she said contemptuously.

  Dark crimson crept up his face as a muscle in his jaw twitched. Catherine saw him clench his fist and she unconsciously moved back in her chair. For all his charm, Kent had a well-defined streak of arrogance in his make-up. She had been deliberately insulting, and Kent wasn’t a man to take kindly to insults. Suddenly he smiled—if the cruel twist of his lips could be called a smile. His eyes mocked her as he said, ‘Can’t you? I got the impression that you enjoyed our ... love-making,’ he jeered.

  Catherine blanched, hating him for bringing that up. She had been helpless to mask her response to his touch. That their physical relationship had been confined to kisses and light petting was due only to his restraint and not hers. She thought he respected her, wanted to—Digging her nails into the palms of her hands, she felt she had never been angrier with herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised she had been expecting him to ask her to marry him ... that he was waiting for their wedding night. Fool! Just how far had she deluded herself?

  She glanced up at the man sitting across the table from her, noting the arrogant set of his jaw, the faintly cynical expression in his eyes. She blanched as the truth hit her. She was in love with him! Frantically she told herself it was only infatuation—purely and simply physical attraction. She held on to that thought as she took a deep anguished breath to help pull herself together. She lowered her eyes and when she looked up again, her face was composed.

  ‘Perhaps I’m as good at acting as you are, Kent. Why shouldn’t I have pretended to enjoy your mauling?’ she said smoothly. ‘City aldermen do have a certain amount of influence. It can be very useful having one on your side if you’re in business.’ She gave him a tight little smile.

  ‘So there is a benefit in seeing me,’ he said softly. She saw then how careless her remarks had been. She quickly shook her head. ‘Not any longer, Kent. Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked out. You see, I’ve realised that you aren’t quite as helpful as I thought.’

  ‘Ah ... but I haven’t really been trying to help you.’ He smiled with satisfaction. ‘I can, you know. That flower shop means a lot to you, doesn’t it? I could do a lot to help you. As you say, I have influence. Many of the people I’ll be introducing you to are just the sort of clients you want. They buy a lot of flowers. Who knows, you might even find you’re so successful you want to open another shop, or expand. Aldermen can be very helpful in cutting through the red tape of business licences and building permits.’

  ‘I’ve managed to do quite well on my own. I don’t think I need your help.’

  He looked at her and laughed. ‘Darling, you have a lovely little shop, but I doubt it does little more than pay the bills at this point.’ His eyes swept over her dress, and she knew he was assessing its cost. Granted, it wasn’t a designer creation, but her temper rose as he dismissed it as being cheap. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be seen in the right places, to dress in the right clothes. I’ll buy you a roomful of clothes if you like. And jewellery.’ His smile grew slightly condescending as they rested on the pearls at her throat and she suddenly realised he assumed they were fake. For some reason, she felt upset. The pearls and the other jewellery she had retained from her years as a singer would realise a small fortune if she cared to sell them. She was hardly a candidate for the poorhouse, as he seemed to be implying.

  ‘You were a celebrity, you can’t tell me you never miss it,’ he continued on a slightly different tack before she could find the words to counter him. ‘In fact, you might even decide you want to resume your career once you get over this fixation you have against people knowing who you are.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Catherine asserted, annoyed at his constant misreading. ‘I’ll never sing professionally again.’

  ‘I didn’t say you have to,’ Kent assured her, eyeing her curiously. ‘I enjoy going out with you, I enjoy your company. But, Cat, you won’t let me take you anywhere but out to dinner for just the two of us. M
y career demands I lead a little more varied social life than that. I want to include you in that social life, that’s all. In exchange, I’ll do what I can to help your business.’

  She took a deep breath. He made it sound so simple, so reasonable. He just couldn’t understand how much he was asking of her and she couldn’t tell him. She sat in silence, studying Kent thoughtfully. In the flickering candlelight, his face was relaxed, only his eyes betraying that he was waiting for an answer. Although she found the prospect of reassuming her identity as Cat Devlin upsetting, she was wavering. She knew with certainty that if she refused his request, she would never see him again. And she couldn’t face that. Yet she would be an absolute fool to continue seeing him.

  But she couldn't silence a small voice within her. If she went along with him, what harm would they be doing anyone? It was not as if she disagreed with his political philosophy. She certainly wouldn’t be the first entertainer to lend support to a politician. As long as she didn’t sing, Rick could have no hold over her. It wasn’t likely that he would even find out that she was seeing Kent—Vancouver was a long way from Las Vegas. Besides, it was possible that she would cure her infatuation for Kent faster by continuing to see him than by cutting him out of her life altogether. And then she could drop back into obscurity again, with no one any the wiser. She’d done it before, she could do it again.

  ‘Cat, is what I’m asking such a hardship?’ Kent asked softly. ‘Surely after all these years you should be able to handle a few questions about your singing career?’ He reached across the table and took her hand. Standing up, he pulled her to her feet. ‘Dance with me. We’ll talk later.’

  Reaching the dance floor, Kent swung her easily into his embrace. Gradually she found herself relaxing, enjoying the feel of being in his arms. The orchestra was playing a moody Barry Manilow number and Kent pulled her closer. The wine earlier, the soft music, the spicy scent of his aftershave were weaving a spell around her. She leaned her head against his chest, resting it in the hollow just below his shoulder. Her hair stirred slightly as his lips brushed it gently. She suddenly felt close to tears.