She finally summoned the courage to look at Richard. She had been a blatant coward for the past ninety minutes, not in the mood to sustain another encounter with the Ice Man. To her surprise, he was looking back at her. And the way he was looking at her kindled a cautious spark of optimism. Deep, searching intent. She couldn’t read exactly what he was feeling, but he was letting himself feel something. That was a step up from this morning.
He tossed his sword aside and started to walk toward her. Dispensing with the lethal weapon. Also a good sign.
Lainie checked to make sure Bennett was otherwise occupied, and met Richard halfway. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne—deep, spicy and masculine. There seemed to be new creases around his eyes and mouth. She wanted to put her arms around him.
Unsure whether he would let her hold him or if he’d just chuck her into the orchestra pit with Will, she refrained.
“Lainie—”
She interrupted him, spoke quickly to get the words out before he frosted over again or said something to provoke her. “Look, I just want you to know. When Will broke up with me—” she rolled her eyes “—well, indirectly broke up with me, I was embarrassed. I didn’t know about Crystalle. Other people did. A lot of people. I felt stupid, and really na?ve, and...and small. But I was no more upset about losing Will, as a person, than I was about my first boyfriend at school.” She winced. “Less, probably. I was a very emo teenager.”
“Lainie, you don’t have to—”
“Yes. I do. For a very short amount of time, Will made me feel like I was worth nothing. I won’t have him doing the same thing to you. Especially since you’ve made me feel like me again.”
The fierceness in Richard’s eyes gentled. He touched her then, lightly, his palm lifting to cradle her cheek, and her own eyes stung.
“Richard.” It was Margaret, looking harassed. “Sorry to interrupt. I need a word about the new set change.”
His fingers tightened, unintentionally biting into her jaw before he released her. He blew out a breath, tearing his gaze from her to acknowledge Margaret. “Yes. What is it?”
Aware of the hint of curiosity in Margaret’s side-glance, and in desperate need of some fresh air, Lainie went out the back door by the props room. It opened into a bleak little side alley, lined with discarded cigarette butts and crisp packets, but it was quiet. The wind whipped through her loose hair and down the front of her jumper. She crossed her arms and bounced a few times at the knees, trying to keep warm. And almost leapt out of her new ankle boots when the door banged open behind her.
The familiar scent and feel of Richard’s cashmere coat thumped over her shoulders.
“If you have to stand out here in five-degree weather, put on a bloody coat.” He spun her around, jerked up her chin and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Bennett’s blown his fuse again.” His breath was warm against her cold lips as he spoke. “Your presence is required.” He looked into her eyes. “We’ll talk later.”
He left her flushed, breathless and definitely not cold.
As kisses went, it wouldn’t make her personal top ten. For one thing, there was still an edge of temper under the surface, and angry snogging didn’t really rev her engine the way it seemed to for vintage romance heroines. He’d also caught her by surprise, and she’d bitten her tongue.
But, for the first time all day, she was smiling when she returned to the marginal warmth of the back hallway.
With Richard and Will effectively banished to the naughty step, the atmosphere onstage was a lot more relaxed. However, by the time she and Chloe had run through the same scene four times, to scant appreciation from Bennett, Lainie was equally ready to take refuge downstairs.
“You despise her!” Bennett sounded as if he was at the end of his rope. He gestured at Chloe in exasperation. “This is sheer bloody vengeance, ladies, not a frigging tea party.”
Casual sexism was rampant in the workplace.
Lainie frowned, Chloe put a sassy hand on her hip—and an ancient, supposedly defunct gas pipe exploded in the greenroom.
The actual blast wasn’t that alarming. It sounded more like a large car backfiring than anything else. There was a moment of blank surprise.
The tremendous crack and crash that followed ten seconds later shook the stage. The Metronome’s excellent acoustics carried the deafening rumble clear to the cheap seats in the back. It was as if an express train had taken a wrong turn off the Piccadilly line and rammed straight through the theatre. Lainie put out a hand and grabbed at the nearest support, which happened to be Chloe’s shoulder.
In the intense quiet of the aftermath, she heard a faint crackling and spitting sound through the wings.
Then the shouting began.
“What the hell was that?” The bemused question was spoken right near her ear. She wouldn’t otherwise have made out the distinct words above the rising clamour.
Bennett’s deep bellow proved useful for once. His voice cut through the chaos like a guiding foghorn in the mist. “Everybody out. Front exit. Gather in the street. Carson—roll call.”
“But—what’s happened?” Chloe sounded bewildered.