A Diva in Manhattan

by Aubrie Dionne

  Apprehension grew inside him and the fire heated his skin until sweat beaded on his forehead. The truth was, he was falling hard for this woman, and she didn’t have a clue who he truly was.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Message

  Alaina woke up groggily to a room filled with bright sunlight. Where was she?

  The White Mountain Lodge.

  The Hayride.

  That monstrous margarita.

  Lance.

  She felt the other side of the bed. Damn. She’d never forgive herself if she’d been too drunk to remember the hottest night of her life. Her hands touched cold, unwrinkled sheets. Nope. She’d slept in this bed alone.

  Disappointment trickled through her.

  She sat up, scanning the room. Lance lay on the other side, sleeping on the love seat in a white T-shirt and blue boxers. His legs dangled off the end ridiculously. He must have carried her up from the fireplace and tucked her in. How sweet. He was such a gentleman.

  Unfortunately, in this case, she wouldn’t mind if he’d been a little bad and woken her up.

  Not wanting to wake him, she pulled herself out of bed and slipped into the shower. No reason for him to see her with make-up smeared across her face and knotted hair. Leave that to after they’d made crazy love together.

  Which would happen, she’d make sure of it.

  Alaina dressed in her new hiking clothes as Lance slept. One thing was for sure- it would take quite the alarm to wake him up. She pictured mornings sleeping in together, getting up late and making pancakes and coffee. She hadn’t thought about such normal, everyday things with anyone. They’d never appealed to her. Maybe she just hadn’t met the right guy. But then Lance had shown up at the auction, emanating rough masculinity which was something a lot of classical musicians lacked.

  She leaned over him, “Lance. Time to wake up.”

  “Who?” He blinked and rubbed his eyes.

  That was strange. “It’s me, Alaina.”

  “Alaina.” Recognition registered in his eyes. “What time is it?”

  She smiled. “Time for breakfast. It closes in fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh.” He sat up and studied her face. “You look lovely.”

  She loved a man who gave blunt compliments. “Thanks. The shower helped.”

  Lance stretched his arms. “A shower’s exactly what I need. Do I have time?” He stood and dug out some clean clothes from his suitcase.

  If only she could come and watch. “If it’s quick. I’m not missing my pancakes for anything.”

  Lanced laughed. “I’ll be faster than a speeding train.”

  She waved him away. “Ha ha superman, let’s go.”

  As he jumped in the shower, she noticed his wallet had fallen out of the pants he’d hung on the back of a chair. Better pick it up for him or he’ll lose it.

  Temptation lingered in her fingertips as she felt the smooth leather. What was in there? Pictures of Mrs. DeBarr? A zillion credit cards? A forgotten picture of his ex?

  Her conscience weighed heavily on her shoulders. She wouldn’t want him going through her purse and finding old tissues or her make-up. She may be a diva at times, but Alaina was not a snoop.

  She placed the wallet on the table. Only then did she notice the name inscribed on the back.

  To Brett, All my love, Dad.

  Brett? Who’s that?

  Did he steal someone else’s wallet?

  The bathroom door opened along with a wave of steam. Lance stepped out, looking like a Gillette shaver model, his face smooth and his hair slicked back. He smelled like fresh pine and mint, and she wanted to nuzzle up next to his neck and place kisses all over his freshly shaven face. She almost forgot about the strange name.

  He wiped a spot of shaving cream off his chin with a towel. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” She glanced away, not wanting to ruin the sexy moment.

  “No, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He smiled. “Pun intended.”

  His easy humor made her feel more comfortable. “I saw your wallet on the floor, so I picked it up for you. I didn’t want you to forget it.”

  He stiffened. “That’s fine.” Something strange in his posture made her push the issue.

  “Why does it say Brett?”

  His face slackened and he wiped the towel over it. When he brought it down again, he was composed and calm. “That’s my middle name. That’s what they called me growing up.”

  Lance Brett DeBarr? What an odd name. Sure, both names were nice by themselves. But together, it just didn’t flow right. Mrs. DeBarr had an odd choice of rhythm. Alaina raised both eyebrows.

  “What? You think it’s ugly, don’t you.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She grabbed his arm. What difference did it make if his middle name didn’t fit well with his first name? He was sexy as hell. “Come on, we’re don’t want to miss breakfast.”

  They exited the room and she checked to make sure the door was locked. Lance followed her down the stairs. “What’s your middle name?”

  Alaina shrugged. “It’s not important.”

  “Oh come on, Miss Judgmental. Let’s have it.”

  A colorful buffet lay on three tables in the center of the room along with a basket of Danishes. Alaina’s stomach gurgled. They found a seat next to the window with a great view of the valley. Fog from the upper foothills cascaded down the mountainside as the sun lit up the autumn leaves like fire below.

  The waiter came and filled their mugs with steaming, black coffee. After he left, Lance stared in apprehension. “So?”

  Alaina rolled her eyes, hoping he would have forgotten or been distracted by all the food. “Oh all right. I was named after my great grandmother.”

  “And…?” He drank his coffee black. Interesting. Manly.

  “Bertha.”

  Lance chocked, almost spitting out his coffee.

  Her neck and cheeks burned. “What? It’s an old fashion name, that’s all.”

  He smirked. “Okay, Alaina Bertha Amaldi.” He lingered on her middle name as if it was a jewel.

  “Oh stop it.” She threw her napkin at him. As much as he teased her, she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

  After a plate full of scrambled eggs and two pancakes, they walked up to the atrium to the gallery of the resident psychic. Perched at the summit of the hotel, the room had a sprawling view of the mountain. Potted ferns sat at each window, reaching toward the sun. It was the perfect place to sit and read or relax.

  “I hope she knows something about me.” Alaina directed them to the front row. She’d always wanted to attend one of these galleries ever since she saw one on television. She was hitting a lot of things on her bucket list these days- singing at the Met, going on a haunted hayride, falling in love. Well, hopefully that last one. She wasn’t sure if she and Lance would pan out just yet. Especially if he kept sleeping on the love seat and calling her Bertha.

  Lance pulled her back. “Let’s not sit up front.”

  “Oh come on. Don’t be such a skeptic.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. “Play along for me.”

  “All right.” He followed her to the front row. The audience filled up behind them.

  Lance leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Man, this lady is popular.”

  Alaina folded her hands in her lap, excitement and nervous anticipation building inside her. “Let’s hope it’s because she’s good.”

  She wasn’t sure what she was looking for: a prediction of an outstanding performance, how many kids she’d have, a message from…well, no one close to her had passed on. Her grandparents were still living. The closest family death was her great Aunt Matilda, but she’d only met her once at a reunion when she was three.

  A middle aged woman with long white hair wearing a light blue sundress and sandals walked in front of the crowd. Instead of calling their attention, she brought a wooden flute to her lips and played a solemn melody. Everyone quieted and turned toward the
front.

  ***

  Still reeling from Alaina’s discovery of his wallet, Brett couldn’t concentrate on what the psychic was saying. Sure, he’d covered it up, but that had come too close, and he hated lying to her. When he got back, he’d have to settle things with Mrs. DeBarr.

  The psychic turned in their direction and Alaina grabbed his hand and squeezed. The woman reminded him of someone who’d walked out of the seventies with her billowy sundress and free spirited frizzy white hair. Her eyes were a little too big and strikingly blue. She met his gaze, sending an unnerving jolt up his spine.

  “The month of April is significant.” The older woman placed her hand near her head twice. “I have two older people here…April keeps coming back to me. Does anyone know someone whose birthdays or deaths were in that month?”

  Brett shifted in his chair. Both of his parents were born in that month, almost exactly one year apart. His father was born on April seventh and his mother on April tenth. But that didn’t mean anything. A lot of people were born in April.

  The psychic touched her mouth with her fingers, moving them back and forth over her lips. “They died of smoke inhalation. I feel as though their deaths were sudden.”

  Brett’s stomach hollowed out. He placed a hand over his gut. Was the room getting hot? His collar pressed against his Adam’s apple, giving him the urge to choke.

  “I also feel as though they died before their time.” She glanced over them. “Anyone over here?”

  Alaina shook her head, her brow furrowed in thought.

  Pain crashed through Brett as sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked down, unable to meet the psychic’s gaze. Even if she was right, he couldn’t acknowledge it. Alaina couldn’t know about his real parents, not when he was pretending Mrs. DeBarr was his mother.

  Besides, this was ridiculous. He didn’t believe in ghosts. It was a train of coincidences. Nothing more.

  The older woman closed her eyes. “I have a clear message from them: she’s the one.” She opened her eyes and scanned the crowd. “Does that mean anything to anyone?”

  It meant something to Brett. His mother never approved of any girls he brought home. She always used to tell him she’d let him know when he brought the right one home.

  Why now? Why would she come through this hippy psychic lady to tell him that? Was Alaina the one?

  The walls pressed in on him; too many people in too small a space. They all stared at him, their eyes like lasers on his back. The room spun, and his breakfast churned in his stomach. He’d eaten too much and not gotten enough sleep. Brett covered his face with his hands.

  Alaina whispered beside him, “Are you okay?”

  “I need some air.” If he didn’t move, he’d throw up right into one of the potted plants. Brett stood and left the room. He pushed through the glass doors leading to the back porch and breathed with relief as the cool air of the mountain spread over him. Leaning on the railing, he tried to make sense of what just happened.

  The moment in the atrium seemed surreal, as if he’d dreamt it. There was no way his parents could communicate with him. They were gone.

  Alaina placed a hand on his arm. “Is everything all right?”

  Guilt weighed on his shoulders. He wanted to tell her the truth so badly. “Yeah, I think I had too much to eat.”

  “Tell me about it.” Alaina rubbed her stomach. She pulled up two wooden lawn chairs. “Here, sit down, you’ll feel better.”

  Brett wasn’t sure anything would make him feel better. His senses prickled all around him as if electric energy charged the air. Alaina had been right. He was spooked, but not in the way he would have thought. It wasn’t fear of ghosts, it was the confrontation of everything that had torn him apart.

  “I’m kinda glad you got us out of there.” Alaina rolled her eyes. “For a psychic, she stinks. She didn’t reveal anything about me, and she kept talking about two people who didn’t even have a connection in the audience.”

  Brett dropped his gaze to his feet. How could he tell her the psychic was spot on? It would ruin everything Mrs. DeBarr worked toward.

  Alaina leaned toward him. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  He nodded. “I just need time. That’s all. Time and some fresh air.”

  “Like Hilda?” Amusement crossed Alaina’s pretty face.

  A smile crept into his lips. “This is way different than the situation with Hilda.” Even at a time like this, she cheered him up.

  Whether his mom spoke to him back in that room or not, one thing was certain.

  Alaina was the right one.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Baring it All

  “So how long is this hike?” Alaina retied her hiking boots in double knots. A charged sense of determination roared inside her. But, she didn’t want to push it too far on her first hike. If Lance had to wait for her, or they couldn’t make it and they had to go back she’d die of embarrassment.

  “Five miles.” Lance hefted their backpack with all of their supplies and their packed lunch. “It’s a piece of cake.”

  Color had returned to his face. He was in his element in the woods, and a relaxed calm had come over him- just what she thought might happen. He’d worried her for a moment back in the hotel.

  “For someone who’s hiked his whole life.”

  Lance gave her an exasperated look- which was exactly what she’d been going for. She loved to tease him.

  “For a beginner as well.” He stopped and touched her cheek. “Trust me. You’ll enjoy it, and I’ve heard wonderful things about the waterfall at the end.”

  He turned around and continued and Alaina had to push herself to keep up. She was rethinking her overly large breakfast and that second pancake. She stepped over a fallen log and lost her balance, bracing herself against a tree. She scraped her skin against the hard bark. “So it’s worth it?”

  Lance turned around and winked. “I’ll make it worth it.”

  That quickened her pace.

  They reached a place where the ground leveled, allowing her to catch her breath. The uphill climb had taken all of her energy, but now she actually had some breath left for conversation. “What got you into hiking?”

  Lance pushed aside a branch, holding it back for her to pass. “I grew up in the woods.”

  “In your family’s cabin?”

  He nodded. “My earliest memory was playing with my dog, Granger.” Lance smiled fondly. “He was a German shepherd mutt that my dad found one day savaging for scraps. We’d do everything together. We used to go on long walks in the woods, and he’d find interesting things for me to take home- things my mother didn’t like.”

  “Oh really?” She bet Mrs. DeBarr didn’t like a lot of things. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine the old woman in a log cabin or the woods for that matter.

  “Once Granger found a sick crow. I brought it home, and my mother yelled at me, ‘those things have diseases.’ But that was the last thing I was worried about. All I wanted to do was save the bird, and all she wanted to do was keep me safe.” He grew suddenly quiet.

  Alaina wondered if his mother was a touchy subject. She was about to change the subject when Lance continued.

  “Granger passed away when I was twelve. Just fell asleep on the door mat and never woke up. We didn’t know how old he was, but my guess was about fourteen- pretty old for a dog that size.”

  “I’m sorry.” Alaina thought of Issy. “My cat died when I was young as well. I loved that cat more than anything in the world.”

  He stopped in his tracks and studied her face. “I bet you did.”

  She nodded, comforted by his certainty. She didn’t have to explain herself to him like she did with her parents. “It took me a long time to come to terms with it.”

  Lance touched her hair. “That’s because you loved him very much.”

  A complex emotion passed his face, as though he understood her too well and she touched a dark place in his heart. He turned and conti
nued on the trail. “After Granger died, I went for a hike along all the trails we’d walked together. I thought it would be painful, but the forest comforted me. I had this feeling like he was still there with me. Now, whenever I come back, I feel like I’m visiting an old friend.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it. All I know is that the forest helped me heal, and after that, I always came back to it when I had something to work out.”

  Alaina followed him, honored he was opening up to her. She loved hearing anything about his past and what made him who he was today. The woods brought out a new side of him, a calmer disposition and a more open, accessible manner. “I’m glad you took me here.”

  “I’m glad you came.” His face brightened and he held up a finger. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  When he didn’t answer, she listened to the rustle of leaves, the call of a bird, and…was that wind? No, it was too constant it had to be “Water. Falling water.”

  Giddiness filled his eyes. “We’re close.”

  The further she pushed on, the louder the rushing of water became until it roared like a rainstorm. Had they hiked all the way to Niagara Falls? They broke through the tree line together, standing upon a cliff overlooking a massive waterfall. Water cascaded down a long drop into a pool before flowing in white sheets over layers of rounded rocks. It was gorgeous.

  Cool mist sprayed Alaina’s hot face, and the air smelled fresh with a hint of moss and pine. Lance hugged her close as they took in the sight together.

  She was hot and sweaty, and her legs burned, but endorphins flowed through her. A sense of accomplishment, much different than what she got from singing, triumphed inside her. She felt more alive and at peace at the waterfall with Lance then at the end of any concert.

  Totally worth the hike.

  They found a dry rock and set up their picnic lunch. The hotel had provided small ham sandwiches, juice and brownies for dessert. With the waterfall at her back and Lance beside her, it was the best lunch she’d ever had.