บท 3: FML!
THE SHOW WASN'T GOING GREAT, and she was well aware of it. She just hoped the audience wasn't as aware as she was. And it wasn't entirely because of the upsetting news she'd heard that morning. No, that was only part of it; the rest was the man who sat motionless at the back of the crowded room, every table in the lounge empty except the one he sat at, the three other chairs around the table conspicuously empty.
She hadn't noticed him at first, having entered the stage wearing the glittering gold gown that made her hair look like flame as it swung straight down her back, and had already gone through the first two bouncy numbers before the steady consistency of that green gaze prickled an awareness down her spine, until she began to search for the only man who had ever physically managed to reach out and touch her across a room.
She'd stumbled a little in the middle of a song when she finally found him seated alone at that table at the back of the room. He'd changed little, maybe a little more grey in his dark hair, a few more lines on his handsome face, but he was still the Raphael Mcklerin she'd fallen in love with five years before. Their meeting had been very similar to now, except that Raphael had been on a cruise with Hugh, and Sophia had been one of the people hired for the cruise season's entertainment. He'd gone to one of her shows, his piercing gaze attracting her attention, and when she was invited to join him for a drink after the show by one of the staff, she eagerly accepted. He didn't seem like the other Romeos she'd met so far on this season's cruises; he seemed reserved and withdrawn. After all, what could he possibly do to her on a crowded cruise ship?
He'd stood up as she approached, her face free of stage make-up, her cream Victorian-style high-necked lace gown a perfect foil for her long gleaming hair at the time.
'You're younger than I thought.' He had frowned, and he was clearly in his early to mid-thirties.
'Does it make a difference?' Her eyes had glowed with excitement at the prospect of spending time with this handsome man.
He'd given a shrug. 'I'm not sure,' he confessed ruefully. 'Perhaps I should start by telling you that my wife recently divorced me, that I'm on board with my very confused and hurt five-year-old son and his nanny, and that I'm only interested in a transient relationship at best.'
'Whew!' She had a self-conscious laugh. 'That's honesty for you!'
'Yes,' he sighed.
Sophia had sat forward to cover his hand with hers, a long hand, strength in the lean fingers, his entire body full of ripcord muscle that the elegant black evening suit couldn't hide. His expression
His eyes were deeply green, his nose long and straight, his mouth a thin line, his jaw square and firm, power etched into every pore, and he was startlingly attractive rather than strictly handsome. And Sophia knew she wanted him with startling clarity!
'Perhaps we could start as friends,' she had suggested in her breathy voice.
Her voice had a natural huskiness to it that added such quality to her singing. 'And we'll see what happens.'
What had happened was that she had spent every evening after her show with him, and if she wasn't working in the evening, she had dinner with him as well.
Sophia knew she was in love with him by the last night of the cruise, and the thought of leaving Raphael in the morning was depressing. He had respected her decision to be friends, perhaps too much so, his good-night kisses too fleeting to appreciate, their times on the dance floor the only real occasions when she was in his arms. But she had been determined the night before that they should not part on such a casual note. And Raphael seemed to feel the same way, molding her body to his as they danced, her slender frame dwarfed by his six feet and more. It contributed to her delusion that she was a child, which was not what she wanted him to think of her. Her suggestion of a moonlit walk had been made with only one goal in mind: to be in his arms, truly in his arms.
It was a cool evening as they approached England, and Sophia's wrap couldn't keep the cold wind at bay.
Raphael had felt her shiver as he wrapped his arm around her waist. 'I'd invite you back to my suite for a nightcap, but we might disturb Hugh or Ruth,' he had said quietly.
She recognized Ruth as Hugh's nanny after seeing the plump middle-aged woman with them at the pool. But it was the first indication Raphael had given that he wanted to be completely alone with her, and she wasn't about to pass it up. 'My room is small,' she had stated. 'However, we wouldn't be disturbed there.'
Raphael had looked at her for a few minutes, and whatever he saw in her candid brown eyes had made him nod his agreement, allowing her to take his hand in hers and lead him to her room.
She'd been a little cramped for space with all her stage costumes and regular clothes, but she'd made the room comfortable and personalized, and she'd sensed Raphael's approval as he turned back to her after looking around the room, chuckling as something behind her had caught his attention.
He'd walked across the room to retrieve the battered doll from her dressing table. 'Now I know how young you are,' he mocked.
'What you see here is all I have,' she had quietly told him. 'I don't have a permanent home; my venues are too varied for that, so my home, such as it is, travels with me.' The doll was given to me by my mother when I was a child.' She'd told him about her parents' death when she was young, about growing up in an orphanage, and about his own privileged upbringing, silently pleading with him to understand why she clung to that tattered doll.
'I apologize, Sophia.' When she flew into them, he dropped the doll and held out his arms to her, resting his head on top of hers. 'I'm really not worried about a nightcap.' With darkened blue eyes, he had moved back to look at her. 'Are you ok?'
She had no illusions that they would become friends this time, knowing that it was the one thing they could never be. Raphael's cold contempt in his eyes as he continued to stare at her seemed to indicate that he had lived through the same memories—and reached the same conclusions.
But five years hadn't changed the shock of recognition she felt when she saw him again, or the desire she felt to be in his arms. She realized, all of a sudden, that she had only been half alive for the previous five years, and that her heart still belonged to this man. How could she have been completely alive if she didn't have a heart, she wondered hysterically.
For her, the rest of her early evening show flew by in a blur of singing automatically. It had all become mostly routine for her over the last few years, but she usually enjoyed herself; tonight, she needed to get away from the steady contempt in her narrowed blue eyes as her voice slowly deteroriated.
She was constantly on the lookout for Raphael's every move. He didn't say anything, his glass was automatically replaced when it was empty, and his gaze never left her. She was a nervous wreck by the time she stepped gratefully off the stage and away from the spotlights, unsure whether she could go back on in an hour and do another show, shutting herself away in her dressing room.
'What's the matter, Sophie?'
As Rod, her agent, walked in unannounced, she looked up wearily. 'Don't call me that,' she snapped impulsively. 'What are you doing here?' she asked, frowning.
'Kat said you didn't seem yourself today.' He shrugged, a tall blond-haired man with a face and physique that should have landed him a role in Hollywood, but he preferred to be the man behind the stars rather than one himself. 'So I decided to come and see for myself.'
Kat grimaced as she followed him into the room. 'I'm sorry,' she said, pleading for forgiveness.
Sophia smiled tiredly at her. 'It's a good thing I adore you both.'
'What's going on out there, Sophie?' Rod was unfazed by her outburst earlier at his shortened version of her name.
'Not much, couldn't you hear for yourself?' She sighed, a little shakily.
'You weren't your usual chirpy self—'
'I was terrible,' she admitted flatly. 'And everyone is aware of it.' Including the man with the deplorable blue eyes!
'Hey, you're a professional,' Rod reassuringly said. 'You don't give bad performances; you just give ones that aren't as good as they could be.' Besides, half of those people wouldn't recognize talent if they heard it.'
Her brightly painted red lips curled into a smile. 'I think I've just been insulted,' she sneered.
Rod made a hurried motion. 'You haven't taken a break in years,' he defended, frowning as he realized the truth.
After five years, Oh, she'd had the occasional day or few days of 'resting,' but they hadn't been chosen. When she got off the merry-go-round of shows, she had too much time to think, to ruminate on the man she had loved and who now despised her with a vengeance. The fact that she had intended for him to despise her didn't make her feel any better when she realized he did.
'My life is one big vacation,' she said quickly. 'Last month, I was in Germany, and the month before that, I was in Las Vegas.' I'm always in some glamorous location.'
'Working,' Rod stated emphatically.
'It's what I'm good at,' she said, shrugging.
'It's what you do, period,' he said with a frown. 'Perhaps I should have insisted on you taking a break—'
'You just happen to be my agent, Rod,' she sneered. 'Not my boss!'
'You need to manage—'
'Rod, I only have forty minutes before my next show; I'd like to shower, change, and possibly have some dinner,' she stated emphatically.
'Are you going back on?'
'Of course,' she replied. 'By then, the gruffness will have faded. 'After all, I'm a professional,' she reminded herself dryly.
Rod made a funny face. 'You most emphatically are. 'All right,' hesaghed. 'However, if you change your mind about taking a break, just let me know and we'll make it happen.'
'I won't,' she said flatly, knowing she'd crumble if she ever sat back and considered the next thirty to forty years without Raphael. She lived her life day by day, never thinking about the future; it was the only way she could keep going.
'Leave it on the table,' she told the waiter as she heard him bring in her sandwich, wrapping a towel around herself as the door closed behind him, intent on fastening it at her breasts as she re-entered the room.
'What are you leaving on the table?'
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