Once In A Blue Moon. Kristin James

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СКАЧАТЬ grass a tangy scent in her nostrils and the heat of Michael’s body lying only inches from her as his smooth voice rolled out the lines of the play, the Shakespeare on his tongue as intoxicating as wine. There hadn’t been a time, before or since, when she had felt as alive as she had that summer.

      “Mercutio! I would have figured Romeo was more like it, the way he looks.” Amanda fetched up a grandiose sigh.

      “As I remember, he liked the part better. It suited him, anyway—charming and cynical.” There had been something dark and mysterious about him. It was intriguing that his charm had a slightly rough edge, that he was not the familiar Southern boy that she’d grown up with, but a Yankee, and one with a sad history, as well. He had been orphaned at thirteen and had been bounced from foster home to foster home for a few years. His love of acting had been the thing that had saved him from following some of his New Jersey friends into a criminal life.

      Isabelle had fallen for him hard. To give him credit, he had tried to ignore her, but she had been determined to reach him. She had arranged accidental meetings and flirted and schemed. It had been two weeks before he broke down and invited her out to coffee one afternoon. It had been even longer before he had finally kissed her. After that, though, they had become inseparable. Eventually, inevitably, they had come together in a cataclysmic night of lovemaking.

      Three weeks later, Michael had gotten a call from his agent in New York. There had been a part in an off-Broadway play for him. He had, of course, taken it, leaving the last week of playing Mercutio to his understudy. Isabelle had been away that weekend, visiting her parents at home, and she had returned to be told by her roommate, in a tone of mock sympathy, that Michael had gone back to New York. He had left her a letter.

      Isabelle would never forget the chill that invaded her being as she read that letter. He had told her of the part and said that he must leave. He loved her, the note had gone on to say, but there was no future for them. He was sure that before long she would forget all about him.

      Isabelle had been too numb for tears. Those had come later, as had the saving fury, the scorn at her own naiveté. She had played the fool, she had realized; she had given her heart to a man who had wanted nothing beyond a summer fling. His career was all that mattered to him; he wanted no entanglements. All the other girls at the theater were quick to agree; they had, they assured her, seen it coming. It had happened to most of them at one time or another, they told her, and nodded their heads sagely. That was life. She had learned a valuable lesson.

      Perhaps she had. But it had taken her a long, painful time to get over him. And she had always had a reminder of Michael and the pain: his daughter, Jenny.

      “...but of course she always claims to have the inside scoop on everybody,” Amanda was saying, giving Isabelle’s suit a last straightening twitch.

      Isabelle nodded vaguely and hoped she didn’t need to respond. She had no idea what the woman had been saying while her own thoughts had been wandering back ten years in time.

      “Well...” Amanda draped the suit over her arm and picked up the shoes from the counter where she had placed them. “See you Friday—you’re not scheduled tomorrow, are you?”

      “No. A day of rest tomorrow, thank heavens.” Isabelle smiled at Amanda. Whatever tendencies Amanda had toward gossip, she was always on top of her job. And she had unerring taste. Isabelle was grateful to her. After all, there were those costume designers whose chief objective seemed to be to make their actresses look frumpy or sallow.

      “Okay. Just wait till you see the green evening dress I’ve got picked out for you for the party next week. I’ll show you Friday. You’ll look like a million dollars in it.”

      “Wonderful.” Isabelle summoned up enough energy for a last smile at Amanda, then sank onto her chair in front of the vanity and began to take off her heavy on-camera makeup. She combed through her heavily sprayed and arranged hair until it was back into its normal loose style over her shoulders.

      Free of the makeup and elaborate hairdo, she felt better. She rolled her head from side to side, letting the tension of the day begin to drain from her. She thought about the fact that in a few minutes she would be home with Jenny—and there would be a whole day alone tomorrow to marshal her inner strength before she had to see Michael Traynor again.

      Isabelle slipped her feet into her ragged sneakers and grabbed her bag, heading out the door. She walked down the hall, nodding at the people she passed, and out the front door. The sun struck her like a blow, and she hurriedly dug in her bag for her sunglasses. She didn’t notice the knot of people standing on the sidewalk in front of the building until it was too late.

      Michael Traynor was chatting with two of the writers. Isabelle’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t been prepared to see him again. But she summoned up a smile and walked past them with a breezy wave and a “hi,” continuing toward her car in the parking lot without breaking stride.

      “Isabelle! Wait!” She glanced back and saw with an inward groan that Michael had peeled away from the others and was walking toward her.

      Two

      Isabelle hesitated. The nerves in her stomach were jumping. She didn’t have the strength to deal with Michael right now. She would have liked to turn and continue walking to her car. But her pride would not let her. She did not want Michael to think that he was able to affect her in any way. So she squared her shoulders and waited, putting a faintly questioning and impatient expression on her face.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling impersonally. “I was just about to leave.”

      Michael stopped in front of her. Isabelle was disconcertingly aware of his body, his charisma, the magnetism of his blue eyes. She fought a sudden surge of sensual memories—the warmth and strength of his arms around her, the delicious taste of his mouth, the shivers of delight his hands had roused on her body.

      “I’ve been hanging around waiting for you,” Michael began. “We need to talk.”

      Isabelle raised her eyebrows coolly, though inside, her nerves were jangling. “We do?”

      “Yes.” Michael frowned. “We’re going to be working together. I—It would be easier if things were straight between us.”

      “As far as I know, there isn’t anything ‘between us,’” Isabelle answered, pleased at the indifference she had managed to inject into her voice. It was difficult, considering the way Michael’s cobalt-blue eyes were boring into her.

      “There was once,” Michael replied seriously. “I don’t want that to be a problem.”

      “No problem,” Isabelle returned lightly. “I hadn’t even thought of you in years until Danny brought you in today.”

      “I could see that it was a surprise. I had assumed that they’d told you we were negotiating. I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to be a shock to you.”

      “Michael...” Isabelle made her voice crisp, using every acting skill she possessed to sound faintly amused. “I’m afraid you don’t have the power to shock me anymore.”

      His eyebrows rose lazily. “Ah...a direct hit.” He shrugged. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re okay with my joining the cast. I want to work with you without either one of us being submarined by a lot of things from the past.”

      “I’m not a teenager СКАЧАТЬ