Mirror Image (Capitol Chronicles Book 4)

by Shirley Hailstock

  The audience jerked in a breath and held it. She stood straight and went into a practiced routine that included splits in the air, cartwheels, back flips, and a final dismount that started as a run but ended with a front flip with a full twist in the air and a perfectly executed landing. When her arms went into the air to salute the audience the applause was deafening. Duncan let go of his breath, as did the rest of the staff.

  Then it was Aurora's turn. She let the full demonstration go on, explaining the difference between women's and men's equipment and events. She asked about the ordinary person taking gymnastics classes, and she became the guinea pig for the first lesson.

  "All right, now what do I have to do?" She laughed, and the audience went right along with her. Grabbing her hair she pulled it into a ponytail and secured it with a wide barrette.

  "You're going to do a simple exercise."

  "If this is simple, why are three of you standing around me?" Again she laughed. Duncan loved hearing that sound. When she was before the lights she was the woman he knew. Without them she crawled away into a shell that no one could penetrate.

  "We're spotting you in case you fall. We do this for everyone until they become confident and proficient with the exercise."

  She stood in front of the uneven parallel bars, wearing the hand grips that had been given to her.

  "What you're going to do is stand in front of the bar with your hands facing you." The trainer took her hands and turned them around so she could see her palms before she closed them over the chalk-scored wooden bar. "Then you'll bring your feet up while your arms hold your weight, swing your legs over the bar, then hold yourself up, with straight arms right about here." The trainer tapped his own body at the hip.

  He demonstrated the maneuver, smoothly and with ease. The audience appreciated the gesture. Then it was Aurora's turn. Her face became serious, and she concentrated. Then she swung her feet. Only one of them left the floor. She fell under the bar, coming up laughing. The audience laughed, too.

  She looked at them. "You think this is easy," she accused, but she got up and tried again. Same result.

  "I think," she said as she laughed again, "that I have too much behind to get over."

  The trainer disagreed, but his protest was lost in the audience appreciation of her joke.

  "All right. One more time." She pulled forward. Both feet came up and she swung over the bar, then supported her weight on her arms and the bar at the level the trainer had told her. She made it. The audience, even the crew and Duncan, poured out their feelings to her in their enthusiastic applause.

  Aurora smiled from her perch, proud as a queen on a throne. Then she overbalanced and swung over the bar, face forward. The three spotters standing near her went forward, but she didn't fall. Her heels landed with a soft thud on the mat. For a moment she hung from the bar. Then she let go and sat on the floor, a wide smile curving her lips.

  "And with that," she said, looking directly into the camera, "we'll be right back."

  The applause light went on. The camera faded her image.

  ***

  Duncan could only think that the show had been a success. After it aired, every mother in America who didn't already have a child in gymnastics would be calling schools to enroll them. Aurora disappeared directly after the audience began filing out. Duncan assumed she was changing clothes. He hadn't seen her before he'd returned to his office and things began settling down for the night. The equipment remained on the set. It would be removed before the next show. For tonight things were quiet. Duncan should be thinking of going home. Why was he still in the office?

  Reaching for the desk lamp to turn it off, he heard something behind him. The control room door was open and he went inside. Aurora was on the studio floor. She still wore the jumpsuit. Standing where she'd been an hour earlier with a full audience in front of her and three spotters beside her, she performed the move that trainer had asked her to do. This time there was no falling, no hesitation, and no amateurish movements.

  She swung easily under the bar, opening her legs in a perfect kip and swinging her lithe body up until both hands and feet were on the same bar. At the top she stood and reached for the higher bar. She took it with practiced ease, working back and forth between both bars.

  Duncan stood in awe.

  "What's she doing?"

  "Shhh," Duncan whispered, tossing a glance over his shoulder.

  "What's she doing?" Line producer Marty Shapiro stood next to him. "Why didn't she do that on the show?"

  "I don't know." They watched until she finished her routine and began a series of stretching exercises.

  "Duncan, I need to talk to you."

  For the first time Duncan noticed Marty had a mass of papers in his hand.

  "Sure."

  Marty stepped back and Duncan took a final glance through the window before following him into the office.

  "Joyce tells me you want to change the programming schedule for tomorrow's show."

  "Yeah," Duncan confirmed.

  "The guests are already here. They're checked into the hotel and are ready to go on. One of them is very ill. We can't ask them to reschedule. What's wrong with doing the show?"

  Duncan scanned the open door. He couldn't see Aurora. She was the reason. The program would bring a distraught mom on the show along with her dying child. The frame of mind Aurora was in, she couldn't handle the heavy emotional scenes the story was bound to elicit. He was trying to protect her, save her from focusing on her own mother-daughter relationship.

  He cleared his throat. "I thought it would be better if we saved that for another time."

  "Why? We're ready for it. Personally, Duncan, I don't think this kid will make it if we postpone."

  "Postpone what?"

  Both men looked up to find Aurora standing in the doorway. She had a towel over her neck. Her face was clean of makeup and her hair, still in the barrette, swung loosely at her neck. Duncan thought she looked glorious.

  "Duncan thinks we should cancel tomorrow's show."

  "Why? What's tomorrow's show?"

  Duncan wasn't surprised she didn't remember. The last few days she'd been pretty occupied with her own thoughts. He'd included her in regular meetings where they discussed the upcoming shows. This one had been mentioned more than once. Aurora didn't remember it.

  "Children with rare diseases." Marty spoke before Duncan could think of an answer.

  Duncan saw her swallow and nod before she asked, "Why are you postponing it?" She looked directly at him. Her eyes looked sad.

  "I thought it would be better to do it at a later date."

  "Better for whom? Me or the children?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm all right, Duncan. I can handle it."

  He wasn't sure she was telling the truth, that she even knew the truth. When Duncan had initially interviewed the mother he'd been as close to tears as he'd ever come. With Aurora's state of mind, he wasn't sure she could manage the show without breaking down. That could be advantageous if they were filming a tearjerker. However, the show wasn't a tearjerker, and her breaking down would only show that the hostess had no control over her own program.

  "I'm fine," she said again.

  "All right," Duncan agreed. "Marty, put them back on the schedule."

  Marty nodded and left. When he closed the door Duncan turned to her. "What was that out there?" He hooked a thumb toward the studio.

  "Nothing," she said, turning to leave.

  "Aurora." His voice was sharper than he wanted it to be. He softened it. “Rory."

  She didn't turn to face him. "Don't call me that.”

  He stood behind her, close enough to feel the heat from her body. He knew she could feel the heat from his. "What do you want me to call you?"

  Duncan raised his hands to touch her, then dropped them. He knew she'd shake them away.

  "When's Marsha coming back?"

  The question came from nowhere. It was the last thing he expected her to say.


  "I can't stay here much longer. I have to return to my home. I need to know what's happening there. Nothing happened here. It's safe to return."

  Duncan didn't know how to answer, so he fell back on what he'd seen. "Tell me about the parallel bars. Where did you learn that?"

  "I was on the team in college," she answered. "I took classes from the time I was a little girl. When I graduated I kept them up even though my height is a drawback. It was my gym workout. Three years ago I quit."

  Duncan didn't have to ask why. Her life had changed when she had to move her mother.

  "Why are there cameras in here?"

  Duncan knew she was fishing. "Sometimes I work from home. Most of this equipment is tied into my house. And stop trying to change the subject."

  She knew how it worked. Duncan had explained the closed-circuit setup to her when she first came to work at the studio, when she was still in the editing department. He'd told her how the cameras and equipment could be focused to let him view the studio from his house. If he was unable to come in or if he had to work late, he didn't have to actually be in the studio to monitor the proceedings.

  "Rory, hold onto me."

  For a moment she didn't move. He wasn't sure she'd heard him, heard the plea in his voice. Then, as stiff as her stance had been she softened and whirled about. Her arms went around his waist and she held onto him. She didn't cry. She just held on as if her life depended on her keeping her arms where they were.

  Duncan folded her into his body as if protecting her. It was good to have her against him again. He buried his face in her hair, smelling the fragrant shampoo, kissing her forehead. He wanted to devour her mouth, bury himself inside her, make violent love to her until neither of them could think or even walk for a week. But that was not what she needed. She needed someone to lean on, someone to stand by and let her lead.

  "Where's your coat?" Duncan asked. "I'll take you back to the guest house."

  "I can go alone." She pushed back and stepped away from him. He didn't stop her.

  "You can always do it alone, is that it?"

  She stepped back as if he'd hit her. He wanted to shake her, shake some sense into her, let her know that he wanted to be part of her life.

  "You're going to do everything by yourself. You don't need any help. You don't need another human being, the touch of a hand or the thought that someone else might understand what you're going through. Aurora, you've been on this show for a couple of weeks. Hasn't any of it sunk in? Can't you tell that life is people having the same experiences, helping each other get through them?"

  Fierce hatred made her eyes dark as black ice. "You understand what I'm going through?" she spat at him. "You know that inside me is the same thing that's inside my mother? You understand that one day in my future I won't recognize another living soul? I won't remember this, or anything about it?" She spread her arms, encompassing the building. Then she folded them around herself.

  "I should understand that there are people just like me? I should understand that I'm not the only one? I am the only one!'' she shouted.' 'I'm the only one who'll be in there." Her hand came up to point a finger at herself. "Alone, without anyone, confused and afraid. Can you imagine that?"

  She took a step forward. "Well, let me tell you, Duncan West, I won't remember those people who are just like me. I won't remember them. They won't remember me. And I won't remember you."

  Chapter 11

  Rory. She could almost taste the way he said it. Aurora lay in bed wide awake. She hadn't been able to sleep after she'd walked out on Duncan. She'd said things she regretted but she could not pull the words back. He'd called her Rory, the word soft and loving, while she'd been catty and childish. Rory was her family name. It brought back memories of beach days, her first concert, and holiday celebrations.

  In truth, she couldn't get past the fact that one day she'd be in the same position as her mother. She thought of her sisters and her brother. Were they all medical science experiments in waiting? Why had she taken it out on Duncan?

  Because she was in love with him.

  She knew they had no future. He had Hollywood on his mind and from the word around the set he was going to be moving on soon. She'd known all along that falling in love with him was the worst thing she could do, but somehow her heart hadn't found out until it was too late.

  She wondered what he was doing now. Was he awake, lying in the dark? Was he thinking of her, hating her for what she'd said? She wanted to talk to him, apologize, make love.

  Aurora threw back the covers and turned on the light, squinting. Her eyes adjusted to the room. She looked at the space on the bed where Duncan had slept. It was neat, untouched, and lonely looking. She longed for him. Reaching for the phone, she thought of calling him. Before picking up the receiver she pulled her hand back. What could she say?

  Could she tell him she wanted him, wanted him to hold her? He'd let her hold onto him. Could she tell him she wanted to make love to him, wanted to find that mindless place where they'd been a week ago, before misery seeped into her pores like an invisible gas?

  Yes, she could. Galvanized into action, Aurora came off the bed as if propelled. Slipping her feet into slippers, she rushed down the stairs. Pulling on a coat, she was in the car and out the guarded gates with a wave of her hand. She saw the guards in the rearview mirror, standing helplessly in the road as she went down the curved driveway.

  She'd call them when she got to Duncan's, let them know she was safe. The drive was short and she was standing on his porch, ringing the doorbell, before she'd had time to think what she would say.

  "I thought ..." she began, when Duncan opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw her. He wasn't dressed. He wore the same paisley robe he'd worn when she slept in his guest room that one night, only loosely knotted at his waist. Her mind conjured up sexual images that burned her ears and should most certainly be reflected on her face.

  Courage failed her, however. Her tongue grew too thick for her to get words over it. She wasn't going to be able to continue. "I wonder ..." she started, but stopped. She couldn't say it. She couldn't tell a man outright she wanted him to make love to her. Women did it all the time. She'd met some of them, aggressive and sure of themselves. She'd also met the ones who couldn't verbalize any of their wants. Now she knew which category she fell into. Aurora had never done this before, and something like this would take practice. "Can I sleep in your guest room?" The question was weak and sounded that way.

  Duncan took her arms, pulling her into the foyer and closing the door.

  "No," he said with a shake of his head. "You can't sleep in my guest room. If you stay here, it's in my room. Take it or leave it."

  She stared at him for any sign of humor, arrogance, or insincerity. What she saw was passion and something akin to concern, caring, even love—nothing hostile, only longing and need. She knew the same was reflected in her own eyes.

  "I'll take it," she said.

  Duncan let go of his breath. If she'd waited any longer to answer he'd have passed out from lack of oxygen.

  His hands slipped down her arms, taking her hands. For the moment it was enough. She'd come to him. After she'd left his office he wasn't sure she would ever come back, but she was here. Elation seared through him. Then he slipped his arms around her, going inside her coat. Shocked, he stepped back. She wore only a thin, satin nightgown.

  "You're not wearing any clothes."

  Aurora smiled. "I didn't think I'd need any."

  ***

  She let the coat fall from her shoulders. The light in the foyer was bright and she felt naked as Duncan stared at her. He'd seen her before, seen her with no clothes on. She felt more undressed now than she had then. His gaze rolled over her, settling on her breasts and her thudding heart before moving lower to her stomach and down to her slipper-covered feet.

  Duncan turned but kept her hand in his. He walked to the phone and dialed a number.

  "Ms. Alexander is her
e," he said. "She's fine. I'll bring her back in the morning." He hung up without saying good-bye.

  He turned to her. "I intended to call the guards," she said, leaving out the fact that when she'd seen him every other thought had flown out of her head. "Duncan, I'm sorry about today."

  "Forget it," he said. "You had a right.”

  "No right to take my feelings out on you." She stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. Her action was bold. Maybe she couldn't say the words, but she could show him. His arms slid over the fabric of her gown and she went into them. Pressing herself close to him, she went up on her toes to touch his mouth. She brushed her lips against his, moaning at the soft texture of his skin. He was a big man, hard muscle over bone, yet he could be gentle.

  She continued her options with his mouth, running the tip of her tongue over the contours of his lips while her hips ground into his. She heard a low growl come from his throat. The sound was heady, exhilarating, and encouragement for her to continue. Aurora went higher on her toes, moving up his frame to take his mouth fully. She drove her tongue inside, sweeping it past his teeth and mating with his.

  Inside her she felt the pulling, a flow that seemed to use the tides of the sea or the phases of the moon, she wasn't sure. She knew it felt good, that it promised pleasure, that it was a leading force and she wanted to follow it. Her stomach coiled, pulling tighter and tighter, building toward an explosion that could only be wonderful when it came.

  Then she was floating. Duncan lifted her off her feet. She felt the cool air kiss her skin as he whirled about and headed for the stairs. Laying her head on his shoulder, she settled close to him, breathing in the pure male scent that had her senses reeling. Duncan went into the warm darkness, setting her on her feet in his bedroom.