nearness.
A splash of cool water and fresh application of makeup in the upscale ladies’ room recaptured her clarity—if not her calm. Humming one of the play’s songs, Lexie returned to their secluded section.
He wasn’t there.
She shrugged off the sinking sensation in her middle and looked over the balcony to scan the theater below.
People talked, ate, drank, checked their phones, or looked at their Playbills in seats scattered throughout the orchestra and mezzanine sections. Nothing new or inspiring there in regard to her playwriting aspirations. She leaned forward, arms crossed over her chest. One day, she’d sit in a grand theatre like this, and watch people enjoying her imagination come to life on stage. Her stomach fluttered, and she had to catch her breath. She just needed to keep working hard, and it would happen.
The lights flickered to signal the second act.
Souvenir bag in hand, Matthew slipped between the curtains and into his chair. “Hey, got you something.”
“You didn’t need to.” She sank onto her velvet chair, staring at the mug she pulled out of the bag.
“I figure you for a coffee drinker, but if not, maybe use it as a pen holder.”
She smiled. He was so thoughtful. Did he have any idea how much he’d restored her faith in men with his unassuming generosity? A shudder ripped through her.
I trust him?
“Uh, thanks. For the mug, and for everything.” She’d kept her eyes open, and he’d proven he was a man who deserved a shot. She turned away for a moment to wipe at the corner of her eyes, then sat back in her seat.
Matthew was sipping a new cocktail, his eyes locking on hers, then he was setting down his drink and shifting closer, his arm wrapping around her as the theater lights dimmed. “Thanks for telling me about your dad,” he whispered, then rested his other hand on his lap, palm up.
Lexie reached out and completed their embrace, eyes on the stage but heart in her throat. She was on a precipice, and soon…there’d be no turning back.
Could she do it?
Curtain call forty minutes later found her smiling through happy tears, clapping until her hands were red and stinging. Without thinking, she turned toward Matthew and stepped into his embrace. And then she was thinking, but his arms were too warm, too soft, too inviting to resist. He felt so good, so strong and sure. “This was awesome,” she breathed, tilting her head back to gaze at his face.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that the Flying Monkey Punch talking, or you?”
She jutted out her chin. The evening had been pure, unadulterated fantasy. “What do you think?”
He squeezed her close, his head dipping toward hers…
“Meet and Greet time, folks,” their attendant announced, head popping in between the curtains.
Matthew jerked back. “Guess we should go.”
Lexie followed as they sped through a narrow hallway with black walls and floors, then past a doorway labeled No Admittance and into a flurry of color, movement, and excitement. Photos snapped and she fangirled, grinning the whole way through the actors’ reception line. The mega-production’s cast was out in full force. Then she was stepping onto the city sidewalk crowded with fans, and sucking in the cool night air. “Wow. My face hurts from smiling so much.”
“Kiss to make it better?” The softness in his voice added to the surreal quality of the night.
Cool lips pressed against her left cheek, then the other.
“Limo’s here,” he said. Smiling down at her, he held out his arm.
Ah, a gentleman. Lexie smiled and set her hand on his forearm. Romantic…moving to the curb…ducking down and into the toasty limo…sliding across the plush leather seat.
Alone at last. I’m ready for this. For us.
Rubbing excited goose bumps, she gazed back.
But he was stepping back.
What the hell?
The door closed with a click of finality, snapping her out of her sensual fog.
She jerked forward and powered down the window. “What’s going on? You’re not coming?”
Matthew’s voice floated in on the night air. “Had a wonderful evening. Tell the driver your address, and he’ll take you home.”
“What are you talking about? Don’t be silly. Get in the limo and—” She stopped. Had the alcohol clouded her judgment? It must have, or else she’d have caught on that he’d changed his mind somewhere between the balcony and the street about wanting to be with her? After getting caught up in her feelings for him, after throwing caution to the wind, she was going to end up watching him walk away from her anyway. This was