The sight shocked me and I pushed Chace back. “Stop. We can’t do this. Not here. Not like this.”

  He persisted, keeping a tight hold of me. “You can’t stir me up the way you do and let me down cold.”

  “Chace, I’m not kidding.” I pulled free and ran my hand nervously through my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let things get so out of control.”

  “I could feel it in your kiss, Annette, how much you want me. You want this as much as I do.”

  He reached out for me, but I backed away, avoiding his touch. “I don’t know what I want,” I snapped.

  That zapped the passion and lust from his eyes. Confused, he glanced away. “Are you turning me down because you're staying with Aaron? Is there more going on between you two than you're telling me?”

  “No. Nothing is going on.” I was angry at myself for allowing this to happen and I let that anger out on Chace. I couldn’t let Kristine take over again, in body or in spirit.

  Chace clenched his fist, his own anger rising. “I’ll bet he’s even holding the production over your head. Has he threatened to cast someone else in the role if you don’t do as he says?”

  “You make him sound like a monster, Chace. That’s not who he is. He’s been nothing but kind and generous. Please stop turning this into something it’s not.”

  “Then why did you push me away? Why can’t I get close to you?”

  I turned away and saw the seminude reflection of myself. “I’m going to have other costumes to try on, Chace. Can we talk about all this later?”

  His fists slackened and I caught the dejected shrug of his shoulder. “Fine,” he muttered softly. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put any pressure on you. I know I’m overreacting, just like I did when I saw Aaron in your apartment; when I smashed my violin on his head. Emotions aren’t always so easy to contain, and I guess you bring out a whole band of emotions I’m not used to dealing with.”

  “I’m not mad, Chace,” I said, softening my tone as I turned to him. “I’m just as confused about all this as you are.”

  I looked at him, trying to ignore the power Kristine still had on all of us. She was slowly seeping back into my life, and she was toying with every man who entered my life.

  “You know what,” I said with a strong desire to regain control. “Forget about the other costumes I’m supposed to try on. Why don’t we go out and grab ourselves a few pretzels then head out to the park to feed whatever ducks dared to winter here.”

  The sad confusion remained on his face for a startled moment, but then slowly lit up as my invitation struck him. “I think that would be great.”

  He stepped out while I changed into my jeans and sweater.

  I was happy with the outcome. Loath to have anything ruin our relationship, it was good to see he wanted to maintain our friendship as much as I did. After all, he was the first true friend I’d had in New York and I wanted to make sure he would be a friend I’d have for a long time.

  Chapter 9

  After a few more fittings, Aaron arrived to take me home. The routine we’d fallen into was both comfortable and disconcerting. It became increasingly easy to be with him and I felt at home in his less than cozy apartment, but it all left me questioning what he expected from all this.

  He parked his car in his reserved spot and popped the trunk open. With a secretive grin on his face he got out of the car and headed to the trunk.

  The little girl in me emerged; he had a surprise for me and I was thrilled at the notion.

  “What do you have there?” I said as I came around to glance in the trunk.

  He pulled out four hefty grocery bags. “Dinner… for two.”

  I tried not to grimace as I followed him to the elevator. “I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”

  “I’m no Chef Gilrod, but I can hold my own. I usually don’t have the time to prepare much of a meal. I’m at the Opera House early in the morning and usually don’t get home before seven. But tonight…”

  The elevator door opened and he headed straight for the kitchen. “If you want to settle into the tub to read, I’ll bring you a cool flute of sparkling water. The steam of a hot bath will do your voice good and I’m sure you could stand to get off your feet for a while.”

  “Don’t you want me to help you out with dinner?”

  He shot me a disarmingly charming grin and cocked his brow in mock disdain. “Do I look like I can’t handle it?”

  I laughed and he simply spun me around and pushed me in the direction of the bathroom.

  I’d just barely settled into the tub and I was already heavily engrossed in the new passages of Kristine’s diary. I’d finally come upon the time in her life when she met Rupert.

  Le 2 juillet, 1881

  My run at the Opera House has opened so many doors. Men of all levels of importance come around just begging for a moment of my time. Among these men is, none other than Mr. Rupert Aragon, the handsome young owner and proprietor of the Opera House. He is from one of the most reputable families in all of Paris, if not France.

  Last night he came to my dressing room, a dozen or so breathtaking white roses in his arms. He was charming, elegant and suave, though he did show a slight penchant for being a tad arrogant.

  He apologized for not coming to see me sooner, stating a whole host of tasks, details and problems he’d had to tend to since the start of the run.

  All and all, I enjoyed meeting him. Just the name Aragon is enough to make any girl dream big. And that seems to be all I’ve been doing since then.

  He’ll be there again tonight, as he’s promised never to neglect me again. As he so gracefully put it, I am his star and he needs to ensure I’m happy with that role.

  Le 3 juillet, 1881

  Rupert arrived last night with a fabulous gift; a magnificent sapphire brooch. Though he said it was in honor of the rave reviews I’d received, I believe he may be more smitten with me than he wants to admit.

  He’s unbelievably attentive and makes me feel like a queen.

  I am ashamed to report that throughout this second encounter with Rupert, I’ve not given a single thought to Eric. But I can’t help how I feel. I can’t help but follow my heart’s urges.

  As much as I love Eric and everything that is wild and unpredictable about him, there is something timelessly alluring about a man as worldly and refined as Rupert. How can I possibly resist? Haven’t I had enough hardship in my life? Do I not deserve a small taste of high society, of mingling with the upper classes… of being a part of the upper echelons of the Parisian elite?

  Le 14 juillet, 1881

  My time with Rupert has taken on a whole new depth. Mid costume change, he entered my dressing room last night, and the lust sizzled in his eyes like never before. Strange how the fleeting flame, that momentary lapse of control on his part, brought out a completely different performance on my part.

  Once the curtains close, I knew I’d find him in waiting for me in my dressing room.

  Indeed. He’d found me exquisite and irresistible. Blinded by my beauty he’d been unable to think of anything else since our very first encounter.

  I was thrilled and couldn’t contain my desire for him.

  Yes, Eric is still in my heart, but Rupert… there’s something undeniable in the connection we have, and that connection was made all the more evident last night.

  His hands were careless as they tore my gown off, and hungry as they grasped my flesh. Oh, how heated his hands were, how expert his fingers.

  Some say money and power are aphrodisiacs, but I think it was far more than that at work. It was who he is, the knowing movements of his body as he pressed against me, and the way he slipped his hands over my skin.

  I’ve known pleasure before, and I’ve given pleasure, but nothing as intense and earth shattering as Rupert.

  Who would have thought a man from such an noble and aristocratic family could harbor such passion.

  Le 16 juillet, 1881

  Rupert has once again proven to me that he is the man I should marry. In addition to his amorous abilities, his amusing tales, his dignified stance and the power he brings, last night he showed me his true soft side.

  He’d invited me to his estate for a horseback ride across the Aragon countryside. I was amused and charmed by the wholesome and simple activity. When midway through our ride, my horse showed discomfort and unease, he quickly stopped, helped me down and tended to the injured beast.

  His gentleness was something I’d never seen in a man. He removed the saddle and found a small welt where a pebble had lodged between the saddle and flesh of the animal.

  “He’ll need a few days to recover and shouldn’t bear the burden of a saddle until this wound heals.”

  I was touched by his care and thrilled when he then invited me to climb atop his horse for the ride back. As we slowly clopped our way back to the main house, Rupert’s arms securely wrapped around me, the sun descended over the hills of the Aragon property. It was a magical moment I’ll never forget. Unable to resist the moment, I leaned into his chest, fragrant with the scent of power and riches.

  He placed a tender kiss on my temple and I was charmed. So many men would have taken advantage of the situation, pushing for too much heat too soon, but Rupert showed great restraint, all while making it quite clear how infatuated he was.

  Just as I’d been moved by the love she’d shown for Eric, I now understood her attraction to Rupert. For all his high standing and riches, he had a good heart and was truly a good man. If he had the handsome looks of Aaron, who resembled him, then he was also a very attractive man.

  But this made it all the more difficult to understand how she could come to plot Rupert’s murder. So far, all of Kristine’s writings showed her to be loving and truly compassionate. Sure, she showed signs of being taken in by the great wealth of the Aragon’s, but most young girls would do the same.

  I couldn’t understand what had brought her from being this good girl to the woman who ended up filled with such spite and anger.

  Eager to get to the heart of that question, I reopened the journal, but Aaron popped his head into the bathroom.

  “I hope you're hungry, because dinner is served.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Though all I wanted to do was slip into a comfy pajama, I knew I should dress up a bit for dinner. Finally, I compromised and put on new but very comfortable yoga pants with a fresh white button down shirt. Smelling fresh and feeling more than relaxed, I entered the dining room a few moments later.

  “Smells interesting,” I said as I took to my chair.

  “I’m not really sure how I should take that,” he called out from the kitchen.

  “I admit I’m a bit intrigued by this hidden culinary talent you claim to have.”

  He arrived with two plates steaming with rich aromas. “Seasoned veal cutlets with almond slivers and a splash of parmesan.”

  “Well, it certainly smells good. That’s a good start.” I took a bite and glanced up at Aaron in amazement. Setting down my fork, I leaned back and peered into the kitchen.

  “What are you looking for?” He took a tentative bite. “Is something wrong with it?”

  “I’m looking for the real chef you must have hidden in the kitchen.” I looked at him with a teasing grin. “This is really great, Aaron.” I dug in, relishing the rich blend of flavors.

  “What a relief. For a moment there I thought I’d screwed it up.”

  “I never would have thought you had so many hidden talents, Aaron. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Well, I can’t sing to save my life, or at least not as well as you do.”

  The sweet and amicable conversation ran throughout the course of dinner and I enjoyed every moment. I could see the great lengths he was going to in order to make me feel comfortable in his home. Not once did he mention our relationship or his feelings for me.

  “For dessert I have strawberries with fresh cream.” He rose and picked up our empty plates. “I could use a hand with whipping the cream up a bit.”

  “Sure.” I followed him into the kitchen, pleased he’d included me in the preparation of the dinner.

  I automatically reached for one of the strawberries in the bowl he’d set on the counter while he went to the fridge to pull out the carton of whipping cream.

  “Here,” he said as he set the cream and a bowl in front of me. “You can start whipping this up and I’ll prepare us each a cappuccino.”

  I whipped at the cream as best as I could while the aroma of coffee quickly took over the kitchen. “How’s this?” I asked, knowing full well the cream was still too liquid.

  He came to my side and shook his head in mock disappointment then dipped his little finger into the cream. “Good thing you know how to sing.”

  He winked playfully and I felt a sudden surge of affection. My gaze caught on his eyes a moment, suspended.

  “Did you put any sugar in?” he asked.

  “No. I just whipped.”

  With a teasing grin, he reached for the sugar bowl just off to my right. “Sorry, I didn’t mention you had to put some of this in there.”

  “Wow,” I said, a little surprised by my lack of know how. “Guess it really is a good thing I can sing.”

  He handed me the sugar bowl and picked up the whip. “Sprinkle a bit in as I whip.”

  Whipping vigorously, the cream took on a whole new form, and as I poured the sugar in, it thickened more and more.

  “Turns out it’s a job for two,” he said as he set the whip down and dipped his finger into the high and fluffy cream.

  “No wonder I couldn’t handle it on my own.”

  “Sweet enough?” He brought his finger to my lips.

  I hesitated just a fraction of a second, but the playfulness of the moment took over and I got in the game. Parting my lips I licked the cream off his finger. “Just barely.”

  “Just barely what?” His voice had taken on a whole new register. Playfulness was gone and a strong undercurrent of sexual tension quickly built up.

  “Sweet,” I mumbled through my own arousal. Without thinking my actions through, I dipped my index into the cream and brought it to his lips.

  A feathery gasp escaped me as his lips took hold of my finger. My lips parted and I watched, mesmerized as the length of my finger disappear into his mouth.

  “Aaron,” I whispered. My voice was feeble while my desire for him soared. I shook my head in a vain attempt to silently convey my disapproval of the situation.

  Instead of releasing my digit as he should have, he took a firm hold of my hand in his and proceeded to lick each finger, one at a time. “You’ve no need for sugar. You're sweet enough as it is.”

  I smiled, half hoping the playfulness had returned, that his comment was meant to lighten the situation. His smile showed his own ambiguity and I could see his struggle. The playful and respectful owner of the Opera House, eager to make his house guest feel at home, eager to give his star the full respect she deserves battled with the man; the simple man who wanted the release of being with the woman he loved and desired.

  “I’ve tried, Annette. Truly I have.” He leaned in to kiss me, his lips soft yet urgent. “These past weeks, living with you, having you at my side, in my home, it’s been torture. You must know that. You must realize how hard it is… to keep my distance, to play the friendly host.”

  His lips covered mine, nibbling my lower lip and leaving my legs weak. When his tongue slid in and pressed against mine, I leaned heavily into him. Thoughts of Kristine and Rupert swirled around me.

  Despite her great love for Eric, Kristine had played with Rupert. Her love had been divided, split between two men; each so different from one another; each offering her something she needed.

  I, too, felt a great need for these two men. Why else did I have such a hard time denying either one of them?

  Aaron’s hands travelled over my hips to my thighs. With a great thrust, he grabbed me and set me on the counter. The very notion he could be so forceful, so determined, heightened my arousal, my thrill at his touch.

  My finger raked through his hair, pulling him into my clutches while my legs wrapped around his hips, hugging him close. He growled and snarled into my hair as his lips moved to my neck and trailed down to the opening of my shirt.

  The bowl of cream toppled over and fell to the floor.

  It shattered and Aaron backed away suddenly. “Annette,” he said, his voice so hoarse and strained. “I want to know that you want me just as much as I want you. I must know.”

  I thought of Kristine’s words, how she expressed her hunger and desire for Rupert, her pleasure in his arms. This heightened my desire for Aaron, as though her fall from grace gave me permission to be naughty.

  With unbridled passion, I tore Aaron’s shirt off, sending buttons flying across the kitchen. My lips heated their way over his shoulder while my fingers went to work on the fastening of his pants.

  “I knew there was a wild beast in there,” Aaron whispered.

  His words, no doubt meant to excite, had the effect of a cold shower. I pushed him away. How strange he would use the very words Kristine had used to describe Eric.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Jumping off the counter, I straightened my shirt and pulled my hair off my face. “I’m sorry. I let myself get carried away. I shouldn’t have let you… I’m really sorry. Aaron, I’m afraid of all I’ve been reading.”

  He shook the lust off, fastened his pants and pulled his shirt back on. “Reading? Reading what?”

  “Kristine’s journals.”

  I saw the understanding slowly make its way to his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Right. What about them?”

  “I think between reading her personal writings and playing her on stage… I don’t know. I feel an influence. I feel her. It’s as though it’s all made me more wanton and uninhibited, more…”