ONE NIGHT (Novella) (Superstars in Love Series)

by Diane Alberts

  His breath fluttered out over her head, tickling her ear. She closed her eyes, not wanting reality to intrude on them. She had gotten what she wanted. Justin and distraction from the world—wrapped up in one neat package. But … now what? She wasn’t exactly versed in the moments after a one-night stand. What was she supposed to do? Thank him and get dressed? Stay and spoon?

  She was freaking clueless.

  He gave a light laugh. “If I can guess correctly from your increasingly tense body … you’re now panicking.”

  She lifted up on her elbows, looking down into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Panicking? No. Questioning my sanity? Maybe a little bit.”

  He cupped her cheeks, tugging her down for a gentle kiss. It melted her heart, and made her wonder if she was worrying herself over nothing. “No questioning needed. Don’t over think it. People do this kind of thing all the time.”

  “Not me.”

  A loud boom sounded off in the distance, and they both turned toward the window. The fireworks had started. He was right. It hadn’t just been a line to get her back to his apartment. He had an excellent view of the sky.

  His arms flexed around her. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”

  “Funny. I thought we just had one ourselves.”

  He chuckled and hugged her close. She watched the burst of colors in silence, not moving. He seemed oddly still, too. It should have felt awkward being wrapped in his arms, naked and sweaty, watching the fireworks. She barely knew him, and yet she’d just had the best sex of her life in this very bed. She should be ashamed or feel something other than … content.

  Yep. She was perfectly content to stay here, in his arms, all night long.

  Resting her cheek on his chest, she let out a little sigh. After a second’s hesitation, his hands rubbed up and down her back, almost reverently. Once the show dwindled down to nothing, she gathered up her nerve and rested her chin on his chest.

  He smiled up at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You look confused. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t exactly do this kind of thing. I have no idea what happens next. I’m kind of out of my element.” And naked. Very naked. Suddenly, she needed to get dressed. She rolled off of him and grabbed her skirt, yanking it up her legs with trembling hands. Though she didn’t know what she felt right now, panic and pleasure were mixing and confusing the hell out of her. “I can’t find my shirt.”

  He sighed. “It’s over there. By the door. And what happens next is entirely up to you. You could go … or you could stay.”

  The way he said the word stay made it sound as if that’s what he wanted her to do. Or was she imagining things? She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. Once she was covered, she crossed her arms over her chest and faced him. As soon as she saw him lying there, still naked, she flushed. “Shouldn’t you get dressed now?”

  “I could, if you’d like.” He stood up and walked over to her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked deep into her eyes. Just looking at him calmed her rapid heartbeat down, and made her stop worrying. “I know you’re freaking out right now, but sometimes not knowing what’s going on is a good thing. Sometimes, it’s good to let go.” He rubbed his jaw. “To have no idea what’s coming tomorrow.”

  “For you maybe. Not me.” She bit down hard on her lip. “I don’t like surprises or not knowing things.”

  He paled. “No matter what you decide to do … if you need anything at all, I’m here for you. Whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or a night of forgetting, I’m here. Okay?”

  Lexi rolled her hands into fists. If she didn’t, she might touch him. And if she touched him, she wouldn’t be able to think straight. And if she couldn’t think straight, she might forget all about Hugh and jump into Justin’s arms without a second thought. And that wouldn’t be fair to Hugh’s memory. Or, to Justin.

  Her heart wrenched. “Okay.”

  He kissed her one more time, so soft and gentle he broke her heart again. His hands dropped from her shoulders, and she slowly opened her eyes. She almost didn’t want to. Almost didn’t want to remember. He was looking at her with a mixture of happiness and sadness, all rolled into one.

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m going to hit the loo. Are you still going to be here when I get back?”

  She nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Brilliant. We have to talk about, uh … something when I come back.”

  Talk? What did he want to talk about? “Okay.”

  He gave her a long, searching stare she couldn’t read, then headed for the bathroom door—still bare assed naked. Hot damn, the man looked good.

  While he washed up, she busied herself with putting the rest of her clothes on. How long did it take for him to clean up? She hadn’t heard a sound out of the bathroom since he went in it. If he hadn’t left her side, she wouldn’t be feeling so damn uncomfortable right now. Like an intruder in his home. Why did he have to leave? Didn’t he know how close she was to running away and never seeing him again?

  Then it hit her.

  Maybe she was supposed to leave. Perhaps the “talk” would be him giving her his rehearsed speech about not wanting commitment, or a relationship. What if he was biding his time in there, staring at his fingernails and tapping his foot, hoping she would get the point and leave before he came out? Before he had to give her the talk? Maybe she should leave before he came back and had to politely inform her he wanted her out of his home.

  In her defense, she had slept with two men her whole entire life. Two. Well, now three. How could she have done something like this? Swallowing back the rising panic, she scrambled for her purse, picked up her heels and rushed out of the bedroom. She didn’t stop running until she cleared the apartment and reached the elevator doors. Once she was safely inside, she stepped into her heels and leaned against the wall. Tears crept down her cheeks, and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. She’d acted so foolish and impetuously. She’d been completely out of character and out of her comfort zone. And worse yet?

  She wanted to stay that way.

  Chapter Five

  The next evening, when the door closed behind the make-up artist, Justin picked up his journal and opened it on his lap. He wished he had someone he could ring to reassure him he wouldn’t fail—besides Gary. He had been alone for so long he didn’t even remember what it felt like to have a family. To be loved. He wished he had someone … anyone … who cared enough about him to hang with him backstage and calm him down.

  But wishes were useless in the face of reality.

  Anyone who would have sat backstage with him was across the pond or dead. So instead he scribbled down a few words in his journal—words no one else would ever read—and closed the cover. Then he dropped his head between his knees and took deep, steadying breaths. Blast it all to hell, he would be on stage in ten minutes and all he could manage to do was sit here thinking of all the ways he could and would fail. Before last night, he hadn’t thought he could feel any more miserable than he already had.

  But he had been wrong.

  Before last night, Lexi hadn’t slept with him, thinking he was stage crew. Before last night, Lexi hadn’t run away from him while he was in the loo. He couldn’t have been in there for more than a couple of minutes. Just enough time to calm his racing heart and get up the nerve to tell her who he really was and beg her to stay despite his lies.

  Yet when he came out all signs of her ever being there were gone. Not even a note or a phone number left behind. She’d gotten her distraction, and then she’d left him. If not for the rumpled sheets and the scratches down his back, he would swear he imagined the whole affair.

  She couldn’t wait to leave him when he wanted to hold her close and never let her go. How ironic that the first girl he’d ever wanted to stay couldn’t wait to leave him. Maybe she had seen the way he’d been feeling about her in his eyes. He scared himself with the things she brought out in him—of course it would scare her away,
too. He sang about falling for someone at first sight in the show, but he didn’t really believe in it. Now here he was, unable to stop thinking about Lexi. Unable to let go.

  And he sounded absolutely pathetic. Enough of the pity train he’d boarded.

  Shaking his head, he forced his mind from her haunting eyes and bewitching smile. He couldn’t afford to think about her right now. He had spent his whole bloody day worrying about what her reaction would be once she saw him onstage. Trying to decide if she already regretted last night.

  Once she saw him up on that stage, she probably would—if she didn’t already. Not only did he lie to her, but she had already told him she didn’t like surprises. And him being Marius definitely fell under the “surprise” category. Right now he needed to focus on the show. He checked his cell and flinched. Three minutes.

  He better get off his arse and move.

  He took one final breath, then the door opened. It was the lead prostitute he thought he’d knocked down in the alley last night. “I just ran into Jenny. She asked me to tell you that it’s time for you to come out.”

  Jenny was the stage manager, so it made this all the more realistic. Time to go on stage. “All right. I’m on my way.”

  She sauntered inside his room, her hips swinging. Her low cut prostitute costume left little to the imagination, and she bent down to show him even more. Trailing a finger down his chest, she straightened his cravat for him. “Afterwards, we can get a drink to celebrate your success, if you’d like.”

  He fought the urge to tell her to bugger off. It wasn’t her fault he was in a foul mood. “I’ll probably just go home and sleep. But thank you.”

  She dipped her hand lower. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Justin halted her hand before it reached his waistband, but smiled at her to soften the blow. He hadn’t been interested before, and he definitely wasn’t interested now. She had the wrong hair color. He wanted blonde. Her eyes were blue instead of green. And she wasn’t a serious businesswoman who never seemed to be able to relax until he made her …

  Bloody hell, she wasn’t Lexi.

  “You go on ahead of me. I’ll be out in a jiffy.”

  She left him alone, a pout on her full lips. He checked the microphone taped to his forehead one last time, praying the nervous sweat wouldn’t wash it away, then stood. His eighteenth century collar dug into his neck, but he couldn’t loosen it. His costume designer would pitch a bigger hissy fit than a three-year-old leaving a candy store empty handed. Hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway.

  Showtime.

  ***

  Lexi settled into her seat in the first row and took a sip of her Merlot. They only allowed the expensive bar cups with lids into the theater, but she didn’t care how much it cost because she needed all the help she could get to survive this show. She almost skipped it, but then the image of her forlorn pregnant, bedridden sister popped into her head—and the guilt could not be denied.

  So she came despite the fear of running into Justin outside the theater again.

  She certainly didn’t come so she could search the shadows for Justin … even though she did exactly that right now. Not like it mattered, anyway. Even if he saw her, he would avoid her. They had a one-night stand and nothing else. They’d agreed on a night of distraction, and they’d both followed through with their end of the agreement.

  She was the one who imagined that it could be more, that he could be the one to fill that emptiness in her life, that he could be the one she could share her life with. Stupid imagination, swooping in and ruining it all.

  Scanning the area above the stage, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was up there somewhere, watching her. Even if he was, would he be able to see her from his perch? She wished she had thought to ask him where he worked. For all she knew, he was off to the left staring at her. Would he be happy to see her, or would he hide in the shadows to avoid an awkward confrontation?

  Someone sat beside her, and she scooted over, dropping her Playbill on the floor. Though she debated picking it up, she decided not to bother. She didn’t want to read it, and she would pick it up before she left.

  “You actually came?” a deep voice asked.

  Lexi choked on her drink, turning to face her brother-in-law. “Max? What are you doing here?”

  He slapped his Playbill facedown on his lap and sighed. “Jessie wanted me to keep you company today. She’s worried you’ll be lonely. And so am I.”

  “Lonely? Nah.” After all, last night she hadn’t been lonely. She’d been blissfully happy up until she left Justin’s side. Lexi laughed, smoothing her black skirt over her legs. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you?” Max raised a brow, searching her face. “You look tired, little sis.”

  She swallowed hard. He’d been around since she was ten, and he could read her way too well for her to bother with lying. “I am tired. And sad. And confused. But I’m fine.”

  “Why are you confused?”

  Of course he latched on to that part of her sentence—the one part she hadn’t really meant to admit. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra started up. Saved by the bell—er, show. She leaned closer and squeezed his knee. “I’m okay. Or, I’ll be okay once this torture is over.”

  He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Do you want to leave? I can watch this and get the signatures. Jessie will never know you didn’t stay. I’ve heard this one is a tear-jerker.”

  She should say yes. She should flee the scene and take the reprieve when she could—but then she might miss her chance to see him. “No, I’ll stay. How sad could it possibly be?”

  The orchestra started up, and she settled in to be bored out of her mind. However, not thirty minutes into the play, she realized she wasn’t bored. And it also turned out that a musical could be really damn sad. She swiped the tears off her cheeks and curled the tissue Max gave her into her fist. Jesus Christ, how much more tragedy could these characters take?

  How much more could she take?

  At one point, she couldn’t keep track whether she was crying or just sitting there in mind-numbing sadness. Max threw his arm over her shoulder and she snuggled closer, not ripping her eyes off the stage even once. When the scene changed and a new set of actors came out, she turned to Max and whispered, “This is actually good.”

  “It is.” He nodded, flipping the Playbill face up on his lap. Opening it, he found the actor’s page with their pictures. “Here comes the guy Jessie is half in love with. The whole reason you’re here. Justin Holloway, otherwise known as Marius. He’s quite the sensation in the UK.”

  A spark of dread washed over her, and she looked down at the book. No sooner did her eyes fall on his picture than he sang—and she knew. She knew who it was on the stage. Justin wasn’t stage crew. He wasn’t even a small part in the musical. He was Justin-freaking-Holloway … one of the biggest stars of the goddamn show.

  But he’d been wearing a stage crew shirt!

  And she was the biggest fool on the surface of the planet. As he sang about love at first sight, the same song he’d sang to her outside of the restaurant, she thought back on the time they had spent together. Had he ever actually said he was stage crew? Had he ever inferred he wasn’t? And more importantly, would he see her sitting in the crowd?

  She hunkered down in her seat more, trying to avoid that very thing. When he came within a few feet of her, his eyes scanning the crowd as he sang, she thought she would be busted. She swore his eyes fell on her—even stayed for a second or two. He even paled and messed up his lyrics. But then he looked away and kept singing.

  The curtains fell for intermission, and so did her guard.

  If he came out right now, he would see how uncertain she was about everything. Who was he really? And what did last night really mean to him? Had it all been a game? She grabbed her Playbill off the floor and scanned through his bio. No mention of family or anyone special in his life.
<
br />   At least that had been the truth.

  Her heart twisted, so she twisted the Playbill in between her hands. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Why do you look like you want to punch someone, cry, or both?”

  Lexi startled. “When did you get back?”

  “Just now.” Max handed her a glass of wine, which he’d gone out into the lobby to refill, and his eyes narrowed. “But I know the look on your face. It’s not a good sign.”

  She looked down at the book she’d crumbled up in her hand. Sighing, she opened it up and pointed an accusing finger at Justin’s face in the gray photo. “See him?”

  Max raised a brow. “Yeah, he’s been singing in my face. What about him?”

  “He lied to me.”

  “All actors lie.” He opened his mouth and closed it, seeming to be at a loss for words. “You realize he’s acting up there, right? And he’s not singing to you directly—even if he does keep looking at you. By the way, I think you have a fan.”

  “Oh my God, Max. Yes, I’m aware he’s acting—and he doesn’t keep looking at me.” Was he? “I met him last night.”

  “Wait, you know him?” Max leaned closer. “Jessie’s gonna flip. How did you meet him? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I didn’t know.” Her cheeks heated. “He let me think he was stage crew.”

  “He told you he was stage crew? Well that’s odd.”

  “Well … not exactly.” She tucked strands of hair behind her ear, knowing where this was going. “I assumed he was, and he didn’t correct me.” When he opened his mouth, she blurted out, “He was wearing a stage crew shirt!”

  “Ah.” He crossed his arms and smirked. She knew that look. The one that said he saw a loophole and would use it. “Then he technically didn’t lie. You assumed.”