Getting It Right This Time (17 page)

“Kate…”

She smiled. “But it didn’t work, did it? Because here I am, older and wiser, widowed and a mother…and still in love with you.”

His pained gaze softened, and his smile broke through like a rising sun. “In love?”

She grinned. “In love. So don’t you dare let me down.”

He threw a quick glance toward the house before leaning toward her. He pressed a brief kiss to her lips, winked. “Never.”

* * * *

they were vibrating. His grin felt wider than his face, and his palms were sore from clapping. The woman was a force to be reckoned with. Phenomenal. Her portrayal of Ophelia in
Hamlet
had been awesomely authentic--the madness, the despair and the ultimate tragedy she reinforced to the role would no doubt be hailed in the review papers the next day as an absolute triumph. His heartbeat finally slowed as the curtain lowered for the final time and the lights cast an amber glow around the auditorium. He stood up and ducked through the private exit leading backstage.

Rachel Brimble

85

They’d talked several times since the unfortunate encounter in his office and even though feelings were a lot better between them, he’d offered to take her out after tonight’s performance to finally settle any superfluous antipathy she might be harboring.

There was every chance Marcia would someday be a theatre diva--the fledging signs were most certainly there--she didn’t deserve the sharp end of his tongue when her actions were rooted in ambition rather than jealousy. Their conversations put the suspicions Marcia could be involved with Underwood to rest, leaving Mark even more resentful toward the smarmy son of bitch for winding him up enough to think such things in the first place.

Walking outside, he waited on the front steps of the theatre for her. He’d booked a table for a late supper and drinks at a nondescript bistro he’d stumbled upon a few weeks ago. The press would have absolute no idea of them being there.

As the audience traipsed outside into the warm summer evening, things felt better and better--

if his life continued this way for the foreseeable future, hassles like Underwood would be quashed beneath the weight of Mark’s contentment.

When Marcia slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, his smile widened. He turned. “Here she is. You were fantastic.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Why, thank you, sir.”

Mark laughed as she gave a mock curtsey. “Hungry?”

She placed her free hand on his forearm and squeezed. “Like a lion who missed breakfast.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now that…is hungry. Come on.”

They ducked into the waiting taxi and Mark gave the driver the name of the bistro. Settling back into their seats, a strange relief swept through him when Marcia’s hand finally slipped from his elbow. He cleared his throat and turned to the window.

He’d be an idiot if he didn’t acknowledge Marcia’s beauty, talent and intelligence. Her success both in the UK and abroad was pretty much guaranteed. If the diva didn’t emerge before the talent was proven consistent, of course. He intended to do his job as her agent and make her understand although she was the media’s glamor girl at the moment, in a single snapshot of time, they could make her their slender, five feet ten punching bag,

“So…what did you think?”

Her voice broke through his thoughts. He met her eyes as they shone with excitement, making her look more beautiful than ever. He grinned. “Stupendous. Absolutely stupendous.”

“And?”

He laughed. “And?”

A flash of red darkened her sharp cheekbones. “And…do you think the audience thought they had their money’s worth? Do you think I bettered last night’s performance?”

86

Getting It Right This Time

Mark watched her--it still amazed him he’d met someone with more raw ambition than himself. He couldn’t help thinking maybe she should take some time off after the
Hamlet
tour.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? Telling a client to slow down? Kate must really be affecting his outlook…

“Something funny?” Marcia snapped.

He blinked and met her icy stare. “No. I was just thinking…”

“That my performance wasn’t any better than last night?” She pouted. “I knew it. I’m doing my best, and it’s still not good enough. It’s still not enough for people to take me seriously.”

He reached across and took her hand. “You were phenomenal. You have to stop this. You are going to be around for a long, long time. Believe me.”

She clasped her other hand over the top of their joined ones. “But will you be with me? What if the success you’re expecting doesn’t happen and you drop me? What if…”

Swallowing back the irritation bubbling in his abdomen, Mark purposely stretched his smile wider. “I am not going to drop you. Look, I’m here now, aren’t I? We’re going to spend the night enjoying ourselves, okay?”

She dropped her gaze to their hands for a second before looking up at him from beneath jet black lashes. “And Kate’s okay with you spending the evening with me?”

The way she said it set Mark’s alarm bells ringing. He slowly pulled his hand from hers but kept his smile firmly in place. “Of course she is. You’re a client. An important client. She understands that.”

A moment passed before she gave a tinkle of laughter. “Good, because I think tonight we should get very, very tipsy. What do you think?”

Mark grinned. “Sounds good to me. No more self-doubt?”

She shook her head. “No more self-doubt.”

“Good. You have got to start believing what is being written about you. For once, the press is writing with integrity. Even Underwood raved about the standard of your performance last week.

What more stamp of approval can you receive when a weasel like him, a man who practically lives for the satisfaction of ripping someone down, comes up with a positive review, huh?”

She stared at him. Her blue eyes darkening to almost black.

He felt his smile falter. Now what? He hesitated, torn between responding to her glare and pretending to let it go by unnoticed. He would do everything in his power to help her career but refused to pander to this more frequent sulky side of Marcia. He lifted his chin.

“Something wrong with what I just said?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

She gave a curt shake of her head. “It’s nothing.” She sighed, looked to the window. “So…

where are we going?”

Rachel Brimble

87

Mark took in the staunch set of her jaw, the way her hands were curled so tightly around her bag the knuckles showed white in the semi-darkness. Was it because his personal life was looking so good that his professional life felt increasingly like a pain in the ass? Or was it him? Could it be that deep down he was afraid Kate would disappear again….or maybe he was aware of the feeling James could intervene at any time, spear a lightning bolt from above through the whole fragile union?

“Hey, is this the place?”

He leaned down and followed Marcia’s gaze through the window. The ivy strewn façade of the bistro came into view. She clapped her hands together.

“Aw, Mark, it’s lovely.”

Feeling the atmosphere lift, Mark forced his shoulders to relax and focused on the promise he’d made himself to make sure she enjoyed herself tonight. He would not scratch the constant itch to ring Kate, and he would not spend the entire evening retelling his latest run-in with Underwood.

“It certainly is,” he said, passing a ten-pound note to the driver through the partition.

“Ready?”

She grinned. “Ready.”

They got out of the taxi and hurried into the bistro. He smiled when he heard Marcia’s gasp.

Even though Encore! was a little known place, Mark bore the superior knowledge of the delicious blend of good wholesome food, great wine and a family run business that was guaranteed there on each and every visit.

The maitre d’ greeted them with a bow and smile before leading them to a small table in a private alcove. Marcia’s eyes were still wide as she slid silently into her seat. Laughing, Mark ordered nachos to share and a bottle of Shiraz.

“What do you think?” He smiled.

“It’s…oh God, Mark. How could I have never been here before?”

Decorated as a replica theatre, Encore’s floor was decked with terracotta tiles, and the flock-papered walls add a perfect warmth to the velvet covered tables and gold chairs. Small glass oil lamps were lit at the center of each table and subtle crystal candelabras hung from the ceiling. Up above the diners, replica theatre-boxes lined the upper level as a final touch of theatrical inspiration.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

She clasped his hand across the table. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

The next hour passed quickly with Mark showering her with compliments and encouragement. They both admitted to being hungry for alcohol over food so soon bottle number one became bottle number two. Discussion of where Marcia imagined her future heading after such an unparalleled debut soon became bigger and bigger, more and more ambitious. They spoke of everything from future British stage performances to Hollywood feature films, nothing was out of bounds and Mark’s hunger for money, success and his client’s longevity soon burned as hard and hot in his gut as it did before Kate came gloriously back into his life.

88

Getting It Right This Time

The wine flowed, their laughter filling the tiny restaurant. Things were back where they should be between agent and client, and there wasn’t a camera in sight. Clearly his message had gotten through Underwood’s thick skull.

“Are we ready?”

“Aw, can’t we order another bottle?” Marcia sighed.

“Another and you’ll be no good to anyone onstage tomorrow.” He held out her coat and she stepped into it. “Come on. Home.”

“Awww.”

Laughing, Mark paid the bill and the two of them tumbled out of the restaurant and onto the street. A summer rain had fallen since they’d been inside and the drops fell from the restaurant’s red and gold canopy onto the sodden pavements. Beneath the street lights and fancy boutique windows, the concrete shone and to Mark, Foxton never looked so good.

His gaze turned to Marcia. She looked stupefied in the same state of inebriation as him judging by the wistful smile playing on her lips and the way she tilted back and forth on her heels.

She turned and met his eyes.

“Beautiful night.”

He nodded. “Yep. Shall we?”

He held out his arm and she took it. They’d barely walked a few feet from the front of the restaurant when Marcia’s grip tightened on his forearm and she swung him around. He didn’t even have time to suck in a breath before her lips came down on his with terrifying accuracy. Mark winced as their front teeth knocked and her tongue sought his like a frenzied cobra attacking a limp piece of flesh.

He gripped her shoulders to firmly push her from him, but a sudden flash of bright light told him he was too late. He shoved her away as a bolt of anger shot through his chest like a bullet.

He growled and made a grab for the photographer but the young boy dodged his grasp, taking off into the night like a God damn thief.

Mark moved to go after him when Marcia grabbed the back of his jacket. “Mark, don’t! Let him go.”

He turned on her, his heart beating hard. “What the hell were you thinking?”

The drunken wistfulness abruptly vanished, leaving something infinitely more sober in her face. “Oh, lighten up,” she said, flinging her hand in the air. “So what? Some kid took our picture.

It wasn’t a photographer. No one’s going to be interested in an amateur snapshot, are they?”

“What? Of course, they’ll be interested. The press is bloody desperate to know who Kate is at the moment. Desperate to know what she means to me. If she sees…”

“Oh, here we go,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Back to bloody Kate again.”

Rachel Brimble

89

Mark stared at her, his hands unconsciously curling into fists as his sides. He clamped his lips tightly together as he pushed and shoved his temper into submission. He would not let her do this. He would not let her get a rise out of him. She was a client, with the insecurity of a child apparently, but a client all the same. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Let’s get a cab,” he said quietly.

She sniffed. “Good idea. You’re no fun anymore.”

He opened his eyes and watched her turn, wobble and march down the street away from him.

Why did he bother taking her out tonight? Now he was up against it again, hoping to God the kid with the camera didn’t decide he could get a bit of cash for a photo of them kissing. A photo that would be misconstrued by thousands…but most of all, misconstrued by Kate.

Chapter 10

Kate listened to Jess’s chatter as they made their way along the road toward her nursery.

The sun shone with the promise of another hot day, and Kate’s heart swelled as she looked at her daughter. Jessica’s face was tanned from the sun, golden streaks highlighted her soft brown curls and her smile was so wide it could have been painted on. They were happy, and it felt fantastic.

Their lives had turned on a complete axis in a matter of days. It had only been three short weeks since she’d been reunited with Mark, but it felt as though they’d been dating for months. In a shiveringly good honeymoon, toe-curling kind of way, which made her yearn to see him again the minute they were apart.

Seven days had passed since the barbecue at The Landscape and they’d only managed to see each other twice, but at least a third date was scheduled for that night. They’d taken Jess to the cinema one evening and Kate didn’t know who she’d shushed more, Jess or Mark. The man had been as excited as a five-year-old. The second night, they’d spent at home with a DVD and pizza. Mark seemed to love both nights equally. But tonight was just the two of them--her mother was babysitting, and Kate looked forward to spending time some alone with Mark without having to worry if Jess was okay.