The Magic Of Christmas (5 page)

She had no idea what he thought of her now or how he remembered her.  Did he think of her fondly or was this behavior merely him trying to hide his disgust?  No, she didn't think that was it.  There was something in his eyes, something that even those damnable dark lenses couldn't hide.  A spark of something that looked like desire.  Or perhaps passion?

The moment seemed to stretch into an eternity between them and she was aware of the tension that crackled like electricity in the air.  There was the rabid curiosity of the crew, the growing restlessness of the audience as they waited for the grand illusion to begin, and the feeling of aching need growing inside of her own chest.

"
Mon cher
, I..." he said again, this time his voice thick with emotions that she couldn't even begin to guess at.  He opened his mouth as if to say something else but no words came out.  Instead he exhaled, as if all the words he meant to speak were lost.

That was fine with Cecilia because she had one last thing to say, even if he was the only one to hear it.  "I never forgot you."  

She spoke the words so softly that she knew he would have to read her lips to understand her.  At first, she was afraid that he hadn't heard her.  Then, she looked into his eyes once more and saw something flicker behind the contacts, behind the mask he wore for the world to see.

Cecilia saw passion and desire, not hidden this time but burning bright.  His eyes, which had always transfixed her from the first moment they met, now held her captive.  She couldn't have moved even if she had wanted to.  And being this close to him after all this time, moving away was the last thing she wanted to do. 

Deep inside her chest, she felt the same old fire ignite and, just like it had when she had been thirteen, it terrified her, this big, all-encompassing feeling that threatened to swallow her so completely that she would lose herself.

In that moment, despite her need to be close to him, she wanted nothing more than to turn and run.  The same way she had been running since she was a young girl who had fallen in love with a boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Chapter Four

The illusion had been a success.  As expected, Cecilia had appeared at the end, not behind the black lacquered screen off to the side of the stage but seated in the plush chair above the flaming water.  Drake had escorted her back to her seat and then bowed low over her hand before kissing the back of it in an extremely chivalrous gesture that had made her pulse race.

It had also earned her a series of catcalls from the audience, as well as furious glares from many of the women who probably would have given all they owned to be in her position at that very moment.

Except that none of them knew the truth.  None of them knew who Drake Vale really was and somehow, that knowledge made Cecilia warm all over.  So warm that she grew restless, impatient to escape the confines of the old Orpheum that now seemed far too cramped for her tastes.  The knowledge of his identity fed her restlessness, and she found herself shifting uncomfortably in her seat, all too aware of the eyes that watched her every move, many of them wondering if she would be sharing Drake's bed later that night.

Because their strange interaction on-stage hadn't been lost on the audience, especially those who had seen Drake perform before.  Those who had of course knew that he teased and flirted, but also that he never broke form or was anything less than professional.  He also never called a woman "mon cher."  But he had Cecilia.  Several times.

Even now, she could still feel the way his voice had felt like a caress against her skin, hot and searing, branding her as his.  His property.  His woman.  His lover.

Because she was.  She always had been.  Even if he had never known it.

The moment the show was over, Cecilia vaulted out of her seat, not bothering to wait for either Lily or Amanda, no matter how many times they called out her name.  She also ignored the faceless crowd, many of whom wanted her to recount her time on stage with the sexy illusionist or give away the secret of the illusion.

Instead, she fled through the crowd, losing herself in the twisting maze that was the back of the theater which was now so crowded with people, many of whom were whispering they had heard rumors that Drake was looking at making The Orpheum his permanent home.  That thought twisted her insides into knots.

Him?  Here?  In College Heights?  Permanently?

She didn't think her heart could take it.  To be so close and yet so far away.  To see him and not be able to touch him.  It would be sheer torture.  And not one of her friends would understand her anguish.  If she could even bring herself to tell them.

What could she say to any of them that they would understand?  They knew nothing of her past with Logan.  Or was it Drake?  Either way, he was the same man.

They didn't understand the hold he had over her.  No one did, not even her, really.  After all, they had been young teenagers when he had left town.  In the minds of her friends, Drake was nothing more than a childhood infatuation, and one from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks at that.

She could do better, her friends had told her in the days and weeks after he left.  She deserved better, someone worthy of her.  Someone of her own social standing and not a poor nobody that was the beaten and battered product of a broken home.  Someone who, most likely, would end up in prison before the age of twenty.

Except that Logan hadn't been any of those things, at least not to her anyway.  To Cecilia, Logan had been her first love, the one she never truly got over.  He had been a young boy looking for a way out, a way to better himself and make a better life than the one he had been born into.

And she was the one who wasn't worthy of him.

As William Linden's daughter, she had sat through many dinners with Logan at her family's table.  Her father had taken the young man in, made him an honorary part of the family, and while he might never have slept in the house, other than a few occasions when the weather had been too bad for him to return home, he was still just as big of a part of her life as if he had been her own flesh and blood.

Except that he wasn't, and the older they had grown, the more cognizant she had become of that fact.  At thirteen, she had felt her young hormones begin to stir every time she looked at Logan, whether in school or at her house.  To her, he wasn't the misfit, friendless boy who lived in a trailer park.  To her, he was honest, loyal and far more intelligent than anyone else she knew.

She also knew that he made her heart beat faster and her stomach clench every time she saw him, his dark, brooding good looks making him utterly appealing, even at such a tender age.

That was Cecilia's secret, the one thing that no one, not even her parents knew.  At thirteen, she had been head-over-heels in love with Logan Valliente.  And he had been her first kiss on the very same day he had left town.

Seeing him now as an adult, all dangerous, unbridled sexuality and raw, powerful male had awakened all of those feelings inside of her again.  And they terrified her now just as much as they had when she was younger.  Maybe even more so because she knew precisely what he could do with his body.  And with hers.

Deep inside, she knew without a doubt that Drake Vale, the boy she had once called Logan, could make her scream with pleasure.

Her heart had known him the moment she saw his photo, no matter how much he tried to hide his true identity.  He could never hide from her, not even when her head insisted otherwise.

When Cecilia finally reached the street outside the theater, cold air stole her breath and she paused for a moment, undecided about what to do next.  She knew she should hail a cab and go home.  There was a line of them outside the theater waiting to whisk patrons back to their homes.  However she didn't want to go home, alone with her memories of the past, and her head now filled with images of a man she had wanted for most of her life.

She needed the company of people, preferably ones she didn't know and who didn't know her.  Or, if they did, would leave her in peace and not badger her with questions about her parents, her life, Drake, and other questions she did not want to answer.

Instead, she turned and began walking towards the main corner of the old college town, farther away from the theater and her friends who were still calling after her, their voices fading as she walked briskly towards the College Corner complex that was the heart of College Heights.

It wasn't as if she was wandering aimlessly.  She did have a purpose.  And that purpose was to get lost in the dim confines of a local lounge known as the Chester Room.

Sitting above a popular local diner and restaurant, the Chester Room was noted for its deep booths where locals could go to escape prying eyes and find some privacy in a town that normally offered very little of it.  The lighting was dim, which was why professors favored it when they were indulging in assignations with pretty young things from the classes they taught.  A small, boutique hotel, simply called The Old Hotel, attached to the Chester Room, its entrance on the second floor as well, making it a favorite spot for those who didn't wish to be seen.

For all of their obvious location, both the Chester Room and The Old Hotel offered Cecilia the kind of privacy she was seeking after her world had been rocked to its very core.

As she walked, she could hear the ringing of sleigh bells from the horse drawn carriages that conveyed tourists and locals alike on slow, romantic rides through the town.  The busy street still teemed with traffic even at this late hour and on the other side, she could see the twinkling lights that adorned that old iron gates that had once separated the campus from the town.  Ahead in the center square, she could see the massive Christmas tree that was decked out in more glittering lights and a few shatter-proof decorations.

The store windows she passed were filled with holiday scenes, advertising gifts of all kinds, especially blue and white ones to match the university's colors.  Around her children laughed and somewhere there was a man, probably dressed in a Santa suit "ho-ho-ho-ing" while others looked on in cheerful appreciation.  Far away, probably on the next street over, there was a group of carolers singing a much-beloved holiday song.

Cecilia, however, noticed very little of the festive atmosphere around her as she wandered, needing some time to collect her wits.  Her thoughts were filled with images of Drake - how he had looked, the way he had smelled, and more.  Those dark eyes of his filled with the promise of sin.  The way he had used that endearing term to refer to her, too afraid to say her name for fear that someone might recognize her.  Or him.

By the time she climbed the stairs to the Chester Room and found an empty booth where she could be alone, her thoughts were all in a jumble, moving so fast that she wasn't certain she would ever get them straight again.

"Good evening, my lovely lady," her waiter said as he appeared before her, almost as if by magic.  "My name is Erik.  How may I be of service this evening?"

His charm and sweet words were part of the exceptional service at the Chester Room.  Cecilia knew that.  However even after a night filled with illusion and sexual innuendo, his words still took her by surprise.

"Ah.  Vodka and cranberry, thank you," she finally said, falling back on her old favorite.  Her parents had hated the drink, said it wasn't something a "serious teacher" would indulge in, but she liked it.  And her parents were currently cruising the Bahamas so they would never know.

Erik raised his eyebrows at her, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.  "Would you like anything else?"  It was very evident that he was offering to provide her with more than a drink if she was interested, which wasn't unusual in this town.

"Not right now," she said, trying to appear calm but finding it difficult not to grip the edge of the table to steady her rioting nerves.

He graced her with a sexy smile that held the promise of a night of pleasure if she wanted it.  "If you do, remember, my name is Erik.  All you have to do is ask for me."  Then he was gone, leaving Cecilia alone with her thoughts.

That, she decided immediately, was a very bad thing.  Her head was filled with nothing but images of Drake.  She should have never come here.  She should have stayed with her friends.  But to what end?  All they would have done was asked her questions she didn't want to answer.  Going home would have meant a wall of silence.  At least here, no matter how restless she was feeling, she could hear the clink of glassware and the low hum of hushed conversations.  She wasn't alone.  And perhaps that was the key to settling her mind and regaining her mental balance.

The lounge was darker than she remembered, the usual wall sconces dimmed so that the clear white lights that had been wound through pine garlands trimmed in red bows could sparkle and shine, making the place seem festive without being ostentatious but rather more elegant and understated.  Crystal stemware sparkled with multi-colored drinks fizzing inside of them.  The entire room had a warm, golden glow and Cecilia knew she should be indulging in the holiday atmosphere.  Maybe even with Erik.  Yet she couldn't quite bring herself to feel the warm cheer that was clearly embracing the others scattered about the lounge.  Instead she felt cold, confused, and more than a little empty inside.

When Erik returned with her drink, she found him strangely subdued, his earlier charm not as effusive as it had been when he had taken her order.  "A vodka and cranberry for the lady," he said but the sparkle in his eyes was dimmed a bit.  "And a note as well."  He dropped the note and a heavy brass key before her and then clasped his hands behind his back.  "From a gentleman."  Then he gave her a short bow and disappeared, threading his way back through the crowd that was growing quickly as more and more theater goers made their way in for a drink.