The Magic Of Christmas (2 page)

Cecilia was also another reason that Drake had avoided returning to town, strange as that sounded even to him.  The worst thing for someone in his profession was a trick gone wrong, an illusion that was shattered.  In a life built on illusion and magic, he didn't know if he could survive losing the illusion that Cecilia was perfection incarnate.  Nor did he think he wanted to.

It was easier to pretend that Cecilia had felt as deeply for him as he had for her, and that she was out there somewhere waiting for him.  If she had married and had a family, if she now shared another man's bed, he didn't want to know.  He didn't want to endure that kind of pain again.

It was also easier to sleep with "magic groupies" as he called them, never getting too close, never trusting them, than it was to face the fact that Cecilia Linden might not be as perfect as he remembered.  That she might not be the standard that he should judge all other women by.

Instead, he preferred to live in ignorance, projecting the illusion that he was someone he was not.

Then Corbin had called and, inexplicably, everything had changed, including a part of him that he couldn't define.  Now, sitting backstage at the old theater where he had first set foot on a stage, he felt restless and itchy.  He wanted to leave.  In fact, he had asked his manager to see about getting a flight out of College Heights that night, right after the show ended.  He could feel the changes in his life closing in all around him and more than anything, it made him want to run.

Drake realized his crew would want to stay for a few days, of course, since most of them were from Pennsylvania and wanted a little downtime before returning to their families.  The unmarried ones wanted to sample the delights of college life - in particular the co-eds - in a small town that was still teeming with nubile young things, both male and female.

Not Drake.  He simply wanted to be gone, to finally be able to clear his head and put some serious thought into what came next in his life.  He couldn't live an illusion forever, and he found that, at thirty-two, he was becoming tired of trying.

He didn't have any more time to mull over his situation however, when a light knock sounded at his dressing room door, followed by the low, purring voice of Alexandra, his on-stage assistant.

"I was hoping you 
weren't
 decent for once," she sighed, her sexy and seductive gaze raking over his body.  "After all, a girl has needs.  And I really need to see all of you, my darling Drake.  Preferably naked."

And that was precisely why Drake was always dressed and completely in control in Alexandra's presence.  He trusted her as much as anyone, he supposed - which wasn't saying much - but he was also well aware that she had her own goals and ambitions.  Number one on the list, unfortunately, was to become Mrs. Drake Vale, something he was not about to allow to happen.  He simply didn't want her that way.

"I'm always decent," he replied fixing her with his dark, impenetrable gaze, his eyes more dark brown tonight than the lighter amber that was his normal color.  "That will never change, Alexandra."

She tossed her head in what she thought was a flirty manner, her long curtain of blonde hair swinging gracefully around her.  "A lady can always hope."  Then she reached out to touch him, perhaps to try to run a hand down his bicep, the way she did when she was feeling flirty and sexual.  This time she stopped short however, as if sensing that his mood wasn't the best.  "But then you know that.  Just as you know that I'm staying with the rest of the crew at the hotel out by the airport, if you're looking for a little company tonight."

Drake never stayed with the rest of the crew, all the better to preserve the illusion.  He preferred small, out-of-the-way boutique hotels if he could manage it.  He was also extremely careful never to let slip precisely where he was staying.  If he wanted companionship for a night, he would seek a woman out.  He didn't want them littering the lobby, hoping for a glimpse of the famous - or perhaps infamous was a better word - Drake Vale.  "And I'm staying elsewhere.  Don't test me tonight, Alex.  I am not in the mood for your games.  We've been over this more than once.  I'm not interested."

Running her fingers through her thick mane of hair, she tossed him a look of disgust.  "You might try sampling the wares once in awhile."  She ran her hands down over her curves before reaching back up to caress her breasts.  "It might do you some good.  You need something to release all that tension.  I can help.  If you let me."  Her voice was little more than a purr now, yet he felt nothing but revulsion at her words.

Overt sexuality in a woman wasn't his thing.  It never had been.

"Not interested."  He rose and put his glass on the table next to the open bottle, the one even Alexandra thought was vodka.

"You'll come around," she teased, before shaking her head and returning to business.  "So can I get you a blonde tonight?" she asked, referring to the woman she would select from the audience to help him perform his signature illusion.  "You've been shying away from the other hair colors lately."

Instead, he shook his head.  Here, in this town?  There was only one hair color he would select.  "No.  Tonight I want auburn hair.  Maybe one with a little red in there.  Mahogany."  He tried to tell himself that his choice of woman tonight had nothing to do with the fact that was Cecilia's hair color.  However a little voice inside of him reminded him that he had always been an abysmal liar.

For as long as he had been performing his signature illusion, he had never picked an auburn haired woman from the audience.  Not once.  In fact, he was very strict with his rule that his assistant could pick a woman with any other hair color but auburn.  The very fact that he was breaking it tonight was one more unusual thing about a day that hadn't been normal from the moment he had woken up alone in his bed.

Alexandra's eyebrows shot up a little.  "But you never want auburn.  Never.  You're adamant about that."  Then she shrugged, as if his choice didn't bother her, even though he knew she had to be burning with a dozen or more questions that she wanted answered.  "But whatever.  You're the boss."  She added a wink for good measure, as if that might help him change his mind where she was concerned.  He could have told her not to bother.  It wouldn't.

He also knew that once the show ended, she would badger him incessantly about his hair color choice for the evening.  She wouldn't do it before.  Too much risk of throwing him off his game before a performance.  But afterwards?  Then, all bets were off.

"I am," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, not missing the way her gaze strayed back to his body, as if she couldn't help herself.  She probably couldn't.  There was no doubt what she wanted and she was growing restless waiting for him to come to her.  That made her potentially untrustworthy.  And worse, potentially dangerous.  She wanted him and he had no idea how far she would go to get him.  Perhaps it was time for Alexandra to find a new position.

Then, he heard the voice of the master of ceremonies getting the crowd warmed up.  It was almost show time.

"Go, Alexandra.  Now."  He inclined his head towards the door before reaching down to pick up the case that held his specialty contact lenses.  "Auburn hair.  Mahogany.  Whatever.  Just find me a woman that fits me description."

Her hand on the door, Alexandra opened her mouth as if to say something and then apparently thought better of it.  Instead she nodded.  "As you wish, Drake.  As you wish."

Then, she was gone and he sighed in exasperation, the contact case still clutched in his hand.  Her words just now had echoed a line from one of his favorite movies.  Alexandra was telling him how she felt.  Except that he didn't return her feelings.  He never would.

As he turned back to the mirror to put in the lenses that would turn his eyes to an impenetrable coal black hue, he knew that tonight would be Alexandra's last performance as his assistant.  He could never be what she wanted.  He could never give her his heart.  He had given it away long ago.  And he had no intention of asking for it back.

Chapter Two

"I don't know why I agreed to come tonight.  I'm only dragging you two down."  Cecilia Linden fidgeted in her seat, fingering the playbill in her hand, trying to keep her eyes from straying to the cover yet again.

"Because you need a night out and you also need to get out of your own head.  That's why."  Cecilia's best friend Amanda Payne gave her what could only be described as a cheerful smile - because Amanda was never anything less than cheerful.  "And you're not dragging us down."

That earned a snort of disbelief from the woman sitting on the other side of Cecilia.  "Yes, she is and she damn well knows it."  Cecilia's other best friend Lily Carlysle chimed in.  "But we still love you, Cee, so I guess it's okay."  Lily smiled as well, but it was more in annoyance than anything.  

Lily had never been able to fully understand some of Cecilia's more quirky personality traits, but she was still loyal to a fault.  Even if she often thought Cecilia, or Cee as she called her, was being a "typical simpering female," as she so often phrased it.

Amanda reached over and patted Cecilia's hand.  "Look, it's just one night and one magic show.  We're not talking a lifetime commitment or anything.  Just a few hours."  Then she tugged the already well-worn program out of Cecilia's hands.  "And honestly, honey, this guy?"  She nodded in the direction of the playbill where the magician's sinfully handsome face looked back at the them.  "This is not Logan.  Trust me.  This man is way too handsome and sexy to be him."

Except that it 
was
 Logan Valliente and every part of Cecilia knew it.  Or she thought she did.  Maybe she was wrong.  Maybe she just 
wanted
 it to be Logan, to see him after so many years and know that he was alive and well.  Though she had always thought that if he had died, she would know.  Or maybe that was her fanciful youth talking again.  Where Logan was concerned, there was a part of Cecilia that had never given up the schoolgirl crush.

"Sweetie, Manda is right.  This Drake Vale guy?  It isn't Logan.  He was cute.  Not scorching hot like this guy."  Lily was kinder now, her voice softer.  "And even if by some odd stroke of luck that it is, you haven't seen him in years.  Hell, you haven't mentioned him in years.  He's nothing to you.  Never was.  So what's really got you all worked up?"

"Nothing.  I'm fine.  Just tired.  It was a really long semester."  And it had been.  As head of the English department at College Heights High School, the same role her father had once held, Cecilia was finding it more and more difficult to be her own woman.  Instead, she was expected to be exactly like her father, make the same decisions he did and, in general, be him.  It was, quite frankly, exhausting and not something she had ever really wanted for herself.  She was only an English teacher because her father had been, because it was expected of her, and not from any real desire to teach.

"I hear that."  Lily nodded in agreement, the sparkling red sequins of her dress shimmering under the theater's lights as she moved.  "We all need a break.  I just didn't realize things were so bad for you."

Cecilia shrugged, not wanting to reveal too much, even to one of her best friends.  "They aren't, at least not always.  Still, this year was pretty bad."  Not that she would expect Lily to understand.  As the school's drama teacher, Lily lived her life in the spotlight, being brutally honest and generally telling everyone precisely what she thought, even if it hurt the other person's feelings.

Then again, when one looked like Lily, one could get away with quite a lot.  With her light brown skin, dark eyes, and gorgeous dark hair, she looked like a model and had the body of one too, with stunning curves and breasts so large that she was often asked if they were real.  They were, of course, and nothing gave Lily a bigger thrill than making certain everyone knew it.

"You're not your father, Cee," Amanda chimed in, ever the stalwart friend.  "Nobody expects you to be.  It'll get better.  I know it."  With long blonde hair and doe brown eyes, Amanda was the very picture of girl-next-door perfection.  That she was also sweet, charming and intelligent didn't hurt either.  Not to mention always optimistic.

And both of them were extremely loyal friends to Cecilia and had been since they were all six years old and navigating the rough waters of elementary school together.

That was why it pained Cecilia not to be able to tell them the truth about the real reason for her unrest.  However, she also knew that if she did tell them what had been keeping her preoccupied for the last few weeks, they would try to talk her out of making a change in her life.  They would tell her that she was being rash and to not throw away everything she had worked so hard for - her career, her life, her place in College Heights society.  Such as it was.

Except that the life she was living was one that Cecilia never would have chosen for herself.  It was one that others chose for her, expecting her to be a carbon copy of her parents - both wonderful, caring teachers who had made a real difference in the lives of many College Heights students over the years.  They gave their all, often times to the point of sacrificing time with their own family, much to the detriment and annoyance of Cecilia and her brothers.

That wasn't Cecilia and never would be.  This life she was living wasn't making her happy.  It hadn't for some time.  She wanted change.  She wanted more.

This disquiet she felt tonight was a symptom of that.  But it was also a symptom of seeing the illusionist staring at her from the playbill.  His eyes were far darker than Logan's had ever been, his face leaner and more masculine than the boy she remembered.  But despite what her friends said, this man 
was
 Logan.  Her heart knew it, even if her mind said otherwise.