Bedding the Wrong Brother(60)

The music cued and another trick began, everyone flowing around the stage like they were born to be there. At one point, Rhys called out for them to stop, and he and Max discussed something while the girls left the stage. Melina felt so proud as she watched them. They were good at what they did, and it was obvious that while Max and Rhys were a team, Rhys made things happen. He kept things running. He was the heart of the Dalton Twins’ Magic Act. Without him, it couldn't possibly survive. More important, he clearly loved what he did. Being around his family and performing with them gave him a spark and vitality that had been missing before, even when he'd been relaxed and having fun in Lake Shasta.


Knowing she didn't have much time before she'd be called to the stage herself, Melina got to her feet and quietly made her way toward the exit. She was almost there when she saw Amanda and Tina return.

They were topless, their big breasts round and thrust out for everyone to see. Rhys and Max glanced up, then kept talking, obviously unfazed by their nudity.

Melina, on the other hand, felt the ground drop out from under her. Bracing herself with a shaky hand, she slowly lowered herself into another seat. She watched as Max performed one illusion after another, the whole time keeping at least one of the girls close. He touched them often, almost absently, a hand on a hip here, or a caress against the side of a breast there. Melina knew it was all for show—that it didn't mean anything to any of them—but she couldn't help thinking of the way Rhys had touched her when they'd practiced, too. And even though it wasn't him touching the girls now, she knew he and Max traded off performing every trick, so he'd touched them at some point and would continue to do so.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she jerked her head around. Rhys stood beside her, his mouth grim. “Hey,” he said.

She turned back to the stage. “Hi,” she whispered.

He lowered himself to the seat beside her and sighed. “I warned you there were a couple of acts that contained nudity, Melina.”

Nodding, she licked her lips. “Yeah. You did. You didn't tell me how often you got to cop a feel, though.” As soon as the bitter words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back. But she couldn't. And she couldn't pretend it wasn't how she felt. Not so much because the touching was sexual or even offensive, but because it seemed to highlight just how different their lives really were.

He lightly grasped her arms and turned her to face him. “It's just an act. The equivalent of an on-screen kiss. It doesn't mean anything.”

“I know that.” But it means something to me, she thought. And this is what he'd be doing, night after night, while I wait for him. While I give up my life for him. She was an insecure person during the best of times. How low would she stoop if she had to imagine Rhys's hands on another woman's body every night?

She stood. “I was just going to get something to eat before we rehearse. What time should I be back?”

“Melina, can we talk about this?”

“There's nothing to talk about,” she said with a thin smile. “This is your life, and there's nothing wrong with it. Now what time do you want me back?”

“We'll rehearse in an hour. Does that work?”

“An hour's good.”

She tried to move past him, but there wasn't enough room unless she wanted to squeeze by and brush against him. Knowing it was silly, she turned and walked down the other side of the aisle, slipping outside through another door.

She didn't look back, but she never got something to eat, either. Instead, feeling more like an outsider than ever, she wandered the streets outside the theater until she came to a nest of shops. One in particular caught her eye, and she stopped to stare at the display window.

The mannequin decked out in leather should have looked ridiculous, but to Melina it represented the daring, almost surreal nature of Rhys's celebrity lifestyle. Foreign. Exotic. Out of reach.

Yet, she reminded herself that she'd been enjoying her time here. That she'd begun to acclimate to his world. So what if she'd suffered a slight bump in the road? Why couldn't she don the leather outfit in the window just as she had Jillian's stage costume? Although it probably wouldn't feel right at first, she'd eventually grow accustomed to it. Wouldn't she?

At the very least, Rhys would know she was willing to try. Maybe, regardless of her reaction to his topless assistants, things could work out for them.

Maybe she just needed to prove it to herself, and this hollow feeling of despair would vanish forever.