a move on her and she slapped him or
pushed him away, it would give him the impetus to walk away and not
look back. Emboldened, he deepened the kiss, twisting his neck to
get a better angle on her lips and closed his eyes so he could
concentrate on the feel of his lips on hers – the full, gorgeous
lips he’d been dreaming about all week.
But if he was expecting resistance, it didn’t
come. Monica returned the kiss, seemed to have no intentions of
stopping it. He cupped her cheek with his hand and let his fingers
trail over her satin-soft face.
As a reward, he heard a faint moan come from
deep in her throat. The warmth their joined lips generated seared
through him, heating them in the midst of the brisk evening air.
She surprised him with her response – she wasn’t modest or shy. She
gripped his shirt with her gloved fingers, pulling him closer.
Still conjoined, she ripped off a glove and returned her bare
fingers to the spot where his shirt collar exposed his neck.
He shivered at the skin-on-skin contact and
broke his hold on her lips just long enough to place a kiss on her
cheek and her eyelid before returning to the sweet heat of her
mouth. She caressed his neck, her fingers moving softly over his
skin in small circles and a shot of heated desire plummeted
directly to his groin. He shuddered at the intensity of it and she
pushed his collar away and moved her hand further into his shirt to
caress his collarbone.
Now it was his turn to groan and the sound
seemed to encourage her to make the kiss deeper, reaching for more
contact, more warmth, more heat. He was not a stranger to kissing,
but this was no ordinary kiss. And no ordinary woman.
Suddenly, she gasped and pulled away. She
scooted back, her breath coming in ragged pants. She lifted her
hand – those same fingers that had driven him crazy with their
meanderings – and pushed the hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” she
murmured. “I don’t know …”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m not sorry at
all.”
She stood, her hands holding her head as if
to ward off a headache. “I can’t believe I … I didn’t mean …”
He jumped off the table and put his hands on
her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I started it.”
She looked away, avoiding his eyes. Luisa ran
up, ready to leave. Monica turned her back to him, put her arm on
Luisa’s shoulder and walked a few steps away.
So much for getting her out of his mind. No,
now she was branded there.
Chapter Four
The next night, Monica gathered her script,
along with her nerves, and emerged from the back to stand center
stage. Her pages, marked weeks ago with green highlights of prop
instructions were now enhanced with yellow highlights of Victoria’s
lines. Victoria, the lead female character. Victoria, Trina’s
part.
It was difficult not to put a great sense of
importance on this event – being named Trina’s understudy. A casual
edict from Dave, the director when she’d approached him, “Sure, we
need an understudy. Why don’t you do it?” belied the gravity of
what he’d granted her. It was a chance to follow her dream.
Her heart raced as she stood on the stage,
looking out over the hundreds of empty seats, all lined in neat
rows, ready to host a small army of theater-goers anticipating a
night of live entertainment, that amazing pleasure created by an
ensemble of actors combined with talent, preparation and magic. The
thought of failing terrified her. Lined up with the other actors in
the lobby after the show, she dreaded shaking hands as audience
members left, their looks of disappointment in her performance that
fell short.
It was easier to hide in the back, her props,
sets and the darkness rescuing her from public scrutiny.
Until now. Why now, did she talk to Dave and
reveal her dream of being onstage? Her pulse raced through her
veins, her breath coming shallower. A tingle of lightheadedness
invaded her.
Suddenly, the stage was bathed in bright
light, and
pushed him away, it would give him the impetus to walk away and not
look back. Emboldened, he deepened the kiss, twisting his neck to
get a better angle on her lips and closed his eyes so he could
concentrate on the feel of his lips on hers – the full, gorgeous
lips he’d been dreaming about all week.
But if he was expecting resistance, it didn’t
come. Monica returned the kiss, seemed to have no intentions of
stopping it. He cupped her cheek with his hand and let his fingers
trail over her satin-soft face.
As a reward, he heard a faint moan come from
deep in her throat. The warmth their joined lips generated seared
through him, heating them in the midst of the brisk evening air.
She surprised him with her response – she wasn’t modest or shy. She
gripped his shirt with her gloved fingers, pulling him closer.
Still conjoined, she ripped off a glove and returned her bare
fingers to the spot where his shirt collar exposed his neck.
He shivered at the skin-on-skin contact and
broke his hold on her lips just long enough to place a kiss on her
cheek and her eyelid before returning to the sweet heat of her
mouth. She caressed his neck, her fingers moving softly over his
skin in small circles and a shot of heated desire plummeted
directly to his groin. He shuddered at the intensity of it and she
pushed his collar away and moved her hand further into his shirt to
caress his collarbone.
Now it was his turn to groan and the sound
seemed to encourage her to make the kiss deeper, reaching for more
contact, more warmth, more heat. He was not a stranger to kissing,
but this was no ordinary kiss. And no ordinary woman.
Suddenly, she gasped and pulled away. She
scooted back, her breath coming in ragged pants. She lifted her
hand – those same fingers that had driven him crazy with their
meanderings – and pushed the hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” she
murmured. “I don’t know …”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m not sorry at
all.”
She stood, her hands holding her head as if
to ward off a headache. “I can’t believe I … I didn’t mean …”
He jumped off the table and put his hands on
her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I started it.”
She looked away, avoiding his eyes. Luisa ran
up, ready to leave. Monica turned her back to him, put her arm on
Luisa’s shoulder and walked a few steps away.
So much for getting her out of his mind. No,
now she was branded there.
Chapter Four
The next night, Monica gathered her script,
along with her nerves, and emerged from the back to stand center
stage. Her pages, marked weeks ago with green highlights of prop
instructions were now enhanced with yellow highlights of Victoria’s
lines. Victoria, the lead female character. Victoria, Trina’s
part.
It was difficult not to put a great sense of
importance on this event – being named Trina’s understudy. A casual
edict from Dave, the director when she’d approached him, “Sure, we
need an understudy. Why don’t you do it?” belied the gravity of
what he’d granted her. It was a chance to follow her dream.
Her heart raced as she stood on the stage,
looking out over the hundreds of empty seats, all lined in neat
rows, ready to host a small army of theater-goers anticipating a
night of live entertainment, that amazing pleasure created by an
ensemble of actors combined with talent, preparation and magic. The
thought of failing terrified her. Lined up with the other actors in
the lobby after the show, she dreaded shaking hands as audience
members left, their looks of disappointment in her performance that
fell short.
It was easier to hide in the back, her props,
sets and the darkness rescuing her from public scrutiny.
Until now. Why now, did she talk to Dave and
reveal her dream of being onstage? Her pulse raced through her
veins, her breath coming shallower. A tingle of lightheadedness
invaded her.
Suddenly, the stage was bathed in bright
light, and
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