“And there’s a nice thick lock on the spa door,” Rafe continued. He looked up and met her gaze in the mirror, his dark eyes smoldering. “What do you say, mon ange? I can’t afford to have you tense tonight. That reporter from Entertainment Weekly has said he’ll be here. That’ll be huge coverage for you.”
“Even if he does do a feature, it might not be a positive one. He could hate the show,” she said dryly.
“Impossible. You’re incredible. You have the richest vein of talent I’ve ever known. And the world is about to discover you.” He clutched her shoulders tighter. Again, she flinched. Rafe didn’t seem to notice this time. He just pressed his mouth to her neck again. “I can’t think of a better way to relax, can you?”
“It might be a little too relaxing, not to mention dehydrating,” she teased, to defray the topic.
He growled deep in his throat and lifted his head. He smiled at her wryly in the mirror. “I think I just struck out again, as you Americans would say.” She laughed. Rafe had lived and worked as a club owner and artist manager/promoter in the United States for ten years, so he was pretty Americanized. Nevertheless, she’d learned recently that he’d never experienced baseball. So she’d taken him to a Cubs game.
“I’m sorry,” she said, grinning. “I’m just not picturing it in the sauna. Not for . . . you know.”
“Our first time?” he asked gruffly, planting one last kiss on her neck and standing. Laila swallowed thickly and nodded, watching him in the mirror. Relief swept through her when he finally removed his hands.
Snap out of it. What’s wrong with me?
Maybe she’d never been in a rush to get into bed with Rafe, but she’d always enjoyed his touch before. Asher’s reentrance in her life, and then his impersonal rejection of her this afternoon, had rattled her, whether she liked it or not. No, it had done more than rattle her. It had hurt her. Badly. It felt like there was a place deep in her chest cavity that had been rubbed raw. She couldn’t ignore it. The sting only grew worse by the minute.
“At least I got you to admit there will be a first time,” Rafe said, interrupting her ruminations. “I’ll leave you to find relaxation in your own way, then.” He straightened his tie while watching her in the mirror. “And I’ll just go on imagining the day when I can relax with the most beautiful, talented woman on the entire planet.”
She shook her head in amusement at his shameless flattery. He planted one last kiss on the top of her head and walked out of her dressing room. She stared at herself sternly in the mirror.
Get over yourself. You didn’t lose anything today that hadn’t been lost years ago.
Her self-lecture, a muscle-melting stint in the dry sauna and a long, hot shower helped her regain her equilibrium a little. It lasted until about an hour before showtime, when there was a knock at her door.
“Yes?” Laila called, setting down a bottle of lotion on her makeup table. A blond woman stuck her head around the door. “Hi, Phoebe,” Laila said, startled. No one but Rafe, and occasionally one of the musicians from her band, ever came to her dressing room. She’d met Phoebe briefly a few times when she’d ventured up to the kitchen before or after a performance, to get a cup of tea or a bite to eat.
“Hi,” Phoebe returned. She looked behind her, seeming a little flustered. Laila stood slowly.
“Phoebe? Is everything okay?”
“Someone wants to see you,” Phoebe blurted out. She gave Laila an apologetic look before she opened the door wider. Laila froze when she saw the tall man standing behind her in the door. He seemed to tower over Phoebe. His appearance was made all the more intimidating by an opened black overcoat. Beneath it, he wore a pair of jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt.
She straightened and lifted her chin, recognizing his formidability. He’d shaved. Seeing his lean, handsome face exposed made her experience her defenselessness like a knife’s edge pressing subtly against her skin. His face looked strangely vulnerable, due to the lack of the beard, and yet harder than stone all at once.
“He said that he knew you years ago, and . . . well, I hope it’s okay that I brought him down.” Laila jerked her gaze off Asher Gaites and focused on a nervous-looking Phoebe. Had Asher bribed her to bring him down here? Was that why she was so anxious? Or was it just Asher’s good looks, seething sexuality and aura of power that had convinced her to break the steadfast club rule about guarding Laila’s privacy? Either way, Rafe would probably fire Phoebe on the spot if he found out what the waitress had done.
“It’s okay, Phoebe,” Laila said, her gaze flickering back to where Asher stood. “I do know him. Come in, Asher.”
Phoebe seemed relieved when Laila said his name. She backed out of the room.
“Phoebe,” Laila called. “You don’t have to tell Rafe about this.”
The waitress looked a little stunned, and then relieved.
Asher stepped across the threshold, and Phoebe shut the door. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other silently. She’d always thought her dressing room was relatively roomy, but he shrank it just by standing in it. She realized she was absorbing every detail about him, soaking up his image like a sponge even though her mind was blank as to what to say. It took her a moment to realize he was doing the same. Even though his face remained impassive, his eyes gleamed as they moved across her face and dipped down over her body. She self-consciously tightened the belt on her robe, the movement of the fabric amplifying the prickling sensation his gaze had ignited on her naked skin. She felt her nipples stiffen. It wasn’t the most opportune time to be caught wearing nothing but a robe.
“You changed your mind?” she said. She noticed his dark brows arching in a questioning gesture. God, he was just as beautiful to her as he ever was. More so. His body was as lean as it ever was, but his chest and shoulders looked a little broader. He’d grown harder with age . . . more distilled. Infinitely more compelling. “About seeing me,” she added.
Her anxiety ratcheted up when he didn’t respond immediately.
“I told myself I didn’t want to see you,” he finally said bluntly. A shadow of self-annoyance crossed his bold features. “But some things don’t change much, apparently. I told you once that I’d come whenever you could see me.”
Her smile was forced. “That was a long time ago.”
“You’re right. It was.”
The way he was studying her face made her jumpy. She couldn’t decide if he was angry or . . . hungry.