“Hi,” said Preston, still stunned to find himself suddenly standing in Elise Klassan’s dressing room after thinking about her non-stop for the past twenty-four hours.
It had been thrilling to see Mr. Durran offer her the chance of a lifetime—the way her eyes sparkled with excitement had made every atom of his body gravitate to her, want for her, hope for her. He’d fleetingly wondered what he wouldn’t do to make them sparkle like that again.
“Hi,” she answered, giggling softly as she looked down at the business card in her hands and then back up at Preston.
Her cheeks were pink and smattered with light freckles, but her lips were lush and full. Cute and sexy. A lethal combination.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” he said, wishing he sounded more witty and less stiff. He’d heard of men struck by a lightning bolt by love—or more likely, by a lightning bolt of instant and intense attraction. He’d always regarded such accounts as silly…until now.
Elise Klassan beamed at him before lifting her backpack and hefting it over her shoulders. Her bright eyes twinkled when she looked back up, waggling a finger at him in censure. “Not yet.”
“But you got an audition,” he said, grinning back at her.
She gestured to the open door and he walked through it, waiting in the hallway as she turned out the lights and locked her dressing room.
“Yes, but not the part.”
“Not yet,” he amended, mimicking her words. “But you will.”
She looked up at him, youthful giddiness lighting her face. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he answered, staring down at her from the opposite side of the narrow hallway.
She leaned against the hallway wall across from him, her soft, golden waves a lovely contrast to the drab concrete behind her. “How do you know Mr. Durran? Do you work together?”
He thought about lying. He strongly considered telling her that yes, he was an entertainment lawyer who regularly worked with Mr. Durran, because he wanted an “in” with her that badly. But he couldn’t bear lying to her. Something about the openness of her face made it impossible.
“The truth is, I don’t know him at all. We met last night…I mean, we chatted after the show, and then ran into each other again tonight.”
“Again?” She laughed softly. “Why in the world would you come and see He Loves Me Not again?”
“For you,” he answered simply, his voice low and gravelly in his ears. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling much younger than his twenty-nine years.
“For me?”
He nodded as his chest tightened with some unspecified emotion. Anxious for a breath of fresh air, he gestured to the hallway. “Shall we?”
She searched his face for an extra beat before turning to the left, and Preston followed her past several closed doors, waved goodnight to a crew member who told Elise he’d see her tomorrow, and stepped down three concrete stairs to a bright green door. Elise pushed it open, and Preston was surprised to find them on a dark, wet New York sidewalk.
Elise crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him, her face uncertain and her eyes cautious. “Are you making fun of me?”
Preston leaned away from her, taken aback. “Making fun? What are you talking about?”
“You came to a bad play two nights in a row to see me?” she asked, her eyes challenging. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does to me,” he said. “I came last night with my… I mean, I came to see the show, and I admit I didn’t get into it until the end, but all day I thought about you dying, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and so I…I don’t know, I came back to see the show again.”
Her face softened. “You’re serious.”
“Hundred percent,” he confirmed, nodding at her.
“And you don’t know Mr. Durran personally?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“So…who are you?”
“A fan of your work?” he asked, offering her his most charming smile.
“My work?” She chortled. “My excellent portrayal of Matilda?”
He sniffed. “You were better than the play. Like Mr. Durran, I’d like to see you in something good.”
She swept her suspicious eyes down his blue and white striped dress shirt, glancing briefly at his watch, skating down his designer jeans and resting on his expensive leather loafers before sliding back up to his face. His body tightened at her perusal, turned-on by her frank inspection.
“Are you a patron?” she asked. “Of the theater?”
He shook his head. “No. But the friend who brought me last night? She is.”
“She.” Elise took a deep breath and two spots of color appeared on the apples of her cheeks. “Girlfriend?”
“No,” he answered simply. Not anymore.
“I see,” she said, releasing the breath she’d been holding, the hint of a smile warming her lips. “So, are you really a lawyer?”
“I graduated from Columbia law school last June. I’m taking the bar, well, bars, in July.”
“Bars? I’m assuming New York and…”
“Pennsylvania.”