Bedding the Wrong Brother(65)

And she saw exactly what her mother had wanted her to see.

She saw the difference between the Rhys in her photos and the one in the frame in her living room. She saw the difference in his expression. She saw the happiness that she brought to him. The same happiness that he'd always made her feel.

She called her mother back immediately.

“Mom, I know you have to go, but can I just say one thing?”

“Sure, honey.”

“I'm a fool.”

Her mother laughed. “All scientists must eventually face that which eludes them. Usually, that's right before a grand discovery changes their lives.”

“Do you regret giving up your acting for Dad?”

“Yes. But do I regret my life with your father? Not at all. I shortchanged myself, and in doing so I shortchanged your father. You certainly don't need to do the same. I'm sure you can find a way to make your lives mesh into something you'll both be happy with.”






Chapter Thirteen





Dalton's Magic Rule #14: Reveal all the cards in your deck and be willing to make a fool of yourself.



With the stage lights shining down on him, Rhys smiled and moved fluidly through the act's closing number. He didn't miss a beat, and the audience was right there with him, a sea of smiling faces that, at least for the night, wanted to believe that life was more than what could be rationally explained. On the inside, he was on autopilot. There was no kick. No rush of adrenaline. No pride that he'd invented over half the tricks in the show.

All he could think about was Melina. He winced inside every time he thought of that last night. She'd done exactly what he'd asked her to do—taken a risk and tried to please him. Yes, she'd gone too far, and she'd been motivated by fear more than desire, but he should have been more careful in pointing that out. Instead, he'd done exactly what her former boyfriends had done—made her feel inadequate. Granted, that hadn't been his intent, but he'd screwed up so bad it's no wonder she'd ignored his declaration of love and gotten on a plane the first chance she got.

Max signaled to him from the right wing, indicating it was time to call the final volunteer from the audience. Rhys nodded, grateful that the end was near. Once the crowd was gone, he'd tell Max what he'd decided. If Melina couldn't stomach living in his world, then he'd have to live in hers. It might be tough at first, but Max was a great magician. If he needed Rhys's help, he'd be there for him, but he was through with touring. He'd already told his parents, who'd offered only their support and well wishes.

He loved Melina. If he had any chance of winning her back, that's what he was going to do.

With Amanda and Tina backed into the shadows downstage, he moved upstage. “Now, for my final trick, I'm going to need the assistance of someone from the audience.” Half the audience raised their hands, and Rhys smiled naughtily. “Actually, I should have been specific. I'm going to need a volunteer who’s wearing a skirt.” Three-quarters of the hands went down. Rhys grinned. “Let's narrow that down even more. A female volunteer who’s wearing a skirt.”

Several men laughed and lowered their hands.

Max walked into the audience, approached a dark-haired woman, and began leading her toward the stage. “Ah, lovely. Please step right up here, ma'am.”

They moved closer, and Rhys narrowed his eyes, straining to see past the glare of the stage lights. He sucked in a startled breath when he recognized Melina. “Melina?” he said, forgetting he was wearing a mic. Her name echoed throughout the theater.

“Yes, it's Melina, everyone.” Max helped Melina up the stage steps, then used his own mic to introduce her. “Melina has volunteered to place herself in Rhys's capable hands, so let's give her a big round of applause.”

Rhys could only stare at her. Her eyes were like saucers, and her pale skin was flushed a splotchy red. Her legs were bare, and she wore the same high heels she'd worn with the corset, but her light, pale-green coat covered what she wore. With two hands, she gripped the coat closed, as if she feared he was going to rip it off her.

“Honey,” Rhys said, no longer caring who heard him. “You don't have to—”

Max led Melina to the center of the stage and, with a flourish, indicated Rhys should get started. When he hesitated, Max sidled up to him, covered his mic, and gritted, “The sooner you do the damn trick, the sooner you can get her off stage. You might want to do that before she passes out.”