*
Sight and sound returned with considerable force and volume. She opened her eyes in the epicentre of a furious argument. Masculine voices snapped back and forth above her aching head, and she blearily tried to focus on who or what was responsible for the racket.
“I think I can manage to get her home without your assistance, thanks.”
She knew that biting sarcasm. Blinking, she raised her eyes and looked up at the underside of Richard’s stubbled chin. She was close enough to his skin that she could see the paint contouring on his jaw. She watched, fascinated, as her own finger came up and rubbed at the makeup, helping to blend in a smudgy line. That brought his face down to look at her, and his hand closed around her raised fingers, squeezing them.
His smile was grim—a thin, compressed slash in his bony face. She touched that too, feeling the smooth softness of his lips, testing their resilience. At her movements, the smile became a little more genuine and some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “You’re hell on wheels for my blood pressure, Tig.”
A muscle flexed under her shoulders. She became at least half-aware of her surroundings. Scenery flats towered above her, seeming far taller than usual, and there was a strong smell of paint. She was down on the floor backstage, on Richard’s lap and in his arms.
“Tig?” repeated an incredulous voice, and she rolled her head against Richard’s chest to look at Will.
He was looming above them, glowering down like an enraged genie. “She should be in bed,” he said between clenched teeth. “The doc said she needs rest and fluids. Not a cuddle on a damp floor.” He added snidely, “And being quite familiar with her bed, I’m happy to transport her there. I can also do it less conspicuously, in a car that doesn’t look like the Batmobile.”
Richard completely ignored him. He was still looking down at Lainie. With the pad of his thumb, he rubbed gently between her eyebrows, exactly where the worst of the pain was grumbling. “I know you were bowled over this morning, but this seems a bit extreme.”
She closed her eyes on a wave of nausea and snuggled her nose into his neck. “Prick,” she murmured.
“And on that sentimental note...” Richard rose to a standing position, still holding her. Even in her semi-comatose state, she was impressed that he accomplished the move with no visible staggering or hopping to keep his balance. It would have been a bit of an anticlimax with Will’s critical glare fastened on them.
Meghan drifted in and out of sight with her belongings, and Lainie felt herself being lowered into a car. Camera flashes went off, voices clamoured, and Richard snarled something over his shoulder. He kept his body angled protectively in front of the open door, keeping her out of range for decent shots. The interior of the car was spongy and warm—her old friend, the Ferrari, again. Lainie stroked the leather seat and drifted off to sleep.
She was lying on her own bed the next time she woke, which was such a relief that she almost cried. Wonderful, familiar hands were helping her into her pyjamas. She blinked up at her mother. “Mum?”
“Bonus of having such a notorious daughter.” Rachel Graham smoothed down Lainie’s vest top. “When she takes a nosedive onstage, I read about it online five minutes later.” She pushed back a lock of Lainie’s sweat-tumbled red hair and smiled down at her. “You never did do things in a small way, did you, darling?”
“Oh.” Lainie groaned and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m so not going to be happy about that when my head returns to normal size. Where’s Richard?”
Her mum’s eyebrows rose archly. “Your devoted swains are sitting in opposite chairs in the lounge, looking like thunder. I suspect words would be exchanged at some volume if it weren’t for my inhibiting presence. As it is, they’re quietly growling and snarling at one another like a couple of territorial bulldogs. You do lead an interesting life, poppet.”
“Will’s here too?” Lainie turned her cheek on the pillow, trying to find a cool spot. “Can you please get rid of him, Mum?”
“With great pleasure.” Like Sarah, Rachel had borne the brunt of Lainie’s initial reaction to the Crystalle situation. Without going so far as her husband’s threats of castration, her opinion of Will was short and brutal. She pulled the covers up, resisting her daughter’s attempts to kick them away. “In another five minutes, you’ll be freezing. That temperature is raging.” At the door, she paused. “And shall I also eject the other brooding presence?”