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He’d known she would be.
When the orchestra played its last notes, the crowd rewarded them with applause. As the actors took turns bowing and smiling, Justin watched her. She stood up, one of those Sippy cups they gave perfectly capable adults in her arm, and clapped loudly. Her eyes still shined with tears—and she was looking right back at him.
Gutting him on stage, for all to see.
Her blasted companion eyed him, then leaned in close to Lexi and said something. She flushed and elbowed him, her mouth tight. The curtain closed, cutting off his line of sight, and he lunged into action. Shaking the hands of his fellow actors as he stormed across the stage, he hurried out the side exit of the stage and rushed into the crowd.
Big mistake.
One he should have known better than to commit. He barely made it a step before the crowd converged on him, begging for pictures and autographs. Normally he loved this sort of thing, but he could see Lexi getting closer and closer to the exit, while he was stuck in front of the stage. She was going to leave him. Again.
And he couldn’t stop her … again.
As he forced smiles and posed for pictures with fans, out of the corner of his eye he watched the woman he would never be able to forget leave his life. She obviously had no intention of speaking to him again. Or, seeing him again. He swallowed past his aching throat, cursing inwardly.
Damn it all to hell, he had hoped he’d been wrong about her. Hoped she wouldn’t flee with the man by her side before he could confront her. She probably hadn’t wanted him to approach her because she didn’t want the man to know about them. That had to be why she left. It was
over. They were over … if they’d ever really begun. One night did not a relationship make.
By the time the crowd thinned, and he changed into his street clothes, he was buried in a foul mood. Sure, the night had been a success even if he had fumbled his lines when he first saw Lexi. But besides that, the musical had gone smooth. Perfect.
Unlike his life.
He growled, tossed his bag over his shoulder, and headed down the hallway. Once again, it was abandoned and he was alone. A feeling of deja vu washed over him, but he doubted Lexi would be waiting in the empty alleyway for him this time. By now, all of the other actors would have already signed their autographs and would be heading out to party.
He shoved through the door, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the shadow of someone standing there in the alley. “Lexi?”
She stepped forward, and he knew instantly it wasn’t her. Lexi wouldn’t wear metallic, spiked heels. Not in a million years. “No. Who’s Lexi?”
He sighed and ran his hands down his face. Stupid, foolish hope. Of course it wasn’t her—instead it was the lead prostitute. Again. What the hell was her real name, anyway? And how could he get rid of her once and for all without telling her to stuff a sock in it? “A friend of mine.”
“Oh. Good.” She smiled, placing her hands on his chest with far too much familiarity. “I was afraid I had competition.”
No, she didn’t have competition because she wasn’t even in the game. But he wouldn’t say his thoughts out loud. “Of course not. But I’m going home now. I’m beat.”
“You’re always beat. Or going home. Or want to be alone.” She pouted, giving him a flirtatious look through her eyelashes that probably worked on most men. That probably would have eventually worked on him if not for Lexi’s hold on him. “Don’t you ever want company? Or just some fun? Don’t you get tired of always being by yourself?”
He tensed. She echoed his thoughts perfectly. He was tired of being alone. Of never having anyone by his side. “Occasionally. But … “
“But I’m right here.” Stepping closer, she tugged his head down and kissed him without a moment’s hesitation. There was no sweetness or even a fragment of emotion in the movement. It was all practiced and perfect. As if she had done this way too many times, and had perfected her technique. Is this how he had been before Lexi? Moving through the motions because he could, but not caring about their outcomes?
She practically forced her tongue into his mouth, shoving him back against the wall with aggression. He knew most guys liked a girl who took charge and wasn’t afraid to be the alpha in bed—but to him it felt forced. Fake. He tore free and gasped for air, fighting the revulsion in his throat threatening to come back up. The clacking of heels filled the silence.
“Bloody hell. I’m sorry, but—” He broke off, his gaze focused over the woman’s shoulder. His eyes met Lexi’s. She clenched a Playbill in one hand, and a pen in the other. What was she … ?
The autographs for her sister.
That’s why she had come. Her face went pale, and she seemed like she was frozen in shock. She had obviously seen the whole kiss. Had seen this woman’s arms around him and her tongue jammed down his throat.
She seemed to snap out of whatever held her motionless, because she spun on her heel and practically ran away from him. He dropped his hands from the lead prostitute’s arms and stumbled after her. “Lexi, wait!”
“No,” she called over her shoulder. “Just go back to … whoever she is to you. I’m leaving.”
She sped up, her steps hurried and uneven. As if she was upset. Of course she was. She had come to see him and had found him kissing another woman. He ran down the alley, easily catching up to her. He gripped her elbow, stopping her from walking into the crowded street.
“Please, let me explain.”
She spun on him, meeting his eyes. And this time he read the emotion hidden within their depths. Accusation and anger and something else …
