It was the night before Christmas Eve, the last performance before the holiday break. As they looked out on the packed crowd before they went on, Jean finally got up the nerve to speak with Lucien about her suggestion for their duet.

"I was thinking," she began.

"About?"

"The last song of the set. I was thinking we might spice it up a bit," she said, fighting off a blush.

He grinned wickedly. "Oh? What did you have in mind, Mrs. Beazley?"

"I thought I might sit next to you on the bench for part of it, maybe run my hands over your shoulders or your arms."

"I like how you think," he said. "May I also make a suggestion then?"

"Of course," she told him.

"We should flip the parts of the song. I'll be trying to leave, and you'll try to convince me to stay."

"Ooh, I like that," said Jean with a wide smile. "And it works even better that way if I'm caressing you." He really was a brilliant musical partner, she thought.

On stage she couldn't help but think about what was coming as she went through the rest of her songs. It seemed to be the perfect night to try it - the audience was enthusiastic and everyone seemed to be in a great mood.

She finished the penultimate song, 'In the Bleak Midwinter', and after nodding her thanks for the applause, she glanced over at Lucien, who winked at her. The gesture was enough to calm her nerves as he played the intro and began to sing.

"I really can't stay."

"But, baby, it's cold outside," she sang back, swaying her hips as she moved closer.

"I've got to go 'way."

"Baby, it's cold outside." She sat down on the piano bench beside him, and he opened his eyes wider, as though in surprise.

"This evening has been..."

"Been hoping that you'd drop in." She rested a hand on his bicep, squeezed it and mugged to the crowd at how impressed she was.

"Sooo very nice," he sang, eyeing her hand.

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice." She moved behind him and rubbed her hands briskly up and down both biceps, nodding approvingly to the audience.

They continued in that vein, getting more and more suggestive, as the crowd cheered them on. Finally they sang in unison the last "But baby, it's cold outside," and then kissed very dramatically, to the hoots and whistles of approval from the audience.

Jean pulled Lucien up to take a bow with her, and they held hands as they did so. Their hands remained clasped as they walked off the stage to sustained applause. He said something to her, but the audience noise drowned it out completely. When the noise didn't subside in the least, she led the way back out for their prepared encore - "All I Want for Christmas is You". Feeling emboldened, she played that up as well, beginning by pointing at various members of the crowd, but then focusing more and more on Lucien.

Once again when the song finished, they bowed and left the stage, but the audience wasn't yet willing to let the evening end. Finally after two more encores, Jean used the microphone to thank them. When the applause still didn't diminish, Lucien leaned over his mic. "You've all been great. Thank you for coming. Stay safe getting home and have a wonderful holiday season. Good night now from Jean and me. Hope to see you back here soon."

They bowed again and walked off. When the noise had died down enough for them to hear each other, Jean simply said, "Wow."

"Bravo," said Lucien. "Well done."

"You, too," Jean responded, and reached up to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Ahem." Matthew had appeared and he cleared his throat as Jean turned red. "It seems we have a music critic in the house from the L.A. Times. He'd like a few words with you, if you don't mind. Both of you."

Lucien shook his head. "It was Jean's set."

"Nonsense," she told him. "You're a big part of it. Come with me? Please?" In truth, she was also a little nervous about facing a critic. She clasped his hand and tugged gently.

"Are you sure? It's your time in the spotlight, Jean."

"And I wouldn't be anywhere near as successful without your support and guidance," she said. "Please come, Lucien."

"That's not true, but if you really want me to..."

"Just go, both of you," Matthew grumbled. "We can use the publicity."

That seemed to settle it for Lucien. He allowed Jean to lead him out front to the man Matthew indicated, who looked surprisingly young to be a critic for such a large newspaper. Lucien seemed to relax when he saw the man, and only then did it occur to Jean that he might have a relationship, good or bad, with critics who knew him from his prior career. This one though seemed much too young for that.

And it seemed he had no idea. Lucien adeptly maneuvered his way around questions about his past and directed the man to focus on Jean at every opportunity. She suspected he had little in the way of personal career ambitions for himself. He had found a niche where he felt comfortable and accepted. But he wanted Jean to have whatever success she sought and did what he could to support her.

She was a little nervous at first, but the young man was a good interviewer. His questions allowed her to express why she chose the songs she sang and how she felt about the music. She only hoped his writing would be equally adept. At least she felt certain it wouldn't be a "gotcha" piece, since he worked for the Times.

He finished up and thanked them, handing Jean his business card. She and Lucien wished him a good holiday, then stood watching as he walked out the door. When he was gone, Jean asked, "What do you think?"

"I think that man is half in love with you, and rightfully so," Lucien told her, his eyes twinkling.

"This won't be a problem for you, will it?" She meant it in earnest, but then felt compelled to add, "I'm sure you don't need groupies who've been pining for you since they were preteens coming out of the woodwork now."

"You mean the ones who used to dance around their living room floor with my album cover?" he teased back.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" she frowned.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Last time I'll mention it. Scout's honor."

"Really? You never seemed like the scouting type to me."

Chuckling, he said, "I'm afraid you've caught me out. Now, what do you say we get changed, have a Christmas drink with Matthew, the band, and the staff, and make plans for our dinner together?"


Most of the band members were much younger than Jean and Lucien, but they were professionals (Lucien and Matthew wouldn't accept anything less) and they respected talent. That didn't mean they couldn't give Lucien a hard time when they weren't working. They called him 'Pops' or 'Old Man' and teased him from time to time, but he gave as good as he got.

Jean laughed at the back and forth among them all, enjoying this side of Lucien. It was much like the way he often bantered with the audience from the stage. She also enjoyed the chance to get to know Cec, the bartender, and Charlie, the bouncer, a little better.

When it looked like many of the men were planning to make it a night of drinking, she, Lucien and Matthew excused themselves from the party. The three of them went up to the office, where Matthew stayed only long enough to grab his briefcase and wish them a Merry Christmas. He was going home to his wife and baby.

After he had gone, they sat on the couch. Jean said with a sigh, "It's nice to be off my feet, even for a little while."

"Here, allow me," said Lucien, indicating she should put her feet on his lap, where he removed her shoes and began to massage the aches away."

"Ah, lovely," she sighed. "If your music career doesn't pan out, you have a future as a masseur."

"I'll bear that in mind," he replied drily. "Now, about tomorrow. I was thinking I could pick you up around noon and we'll head to the supermarket to shop for what we need."

Jean readily agreed, thinking it would be both fun and intriguing to shop with him. She'd always found that you learned a lot about a person by food shopping with them. "What about a menu?" she asked. "Do you have traditional dishes we need to make?"

"Not really. You said you love seafood. I thought perhaps a lobster entree."

"No, sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I can't stand the idea of putting them into a pot of boiling water alive."

"Right. Well, then, we could do a bouillabaisse, or a paella?"

"I adore paella, even if it is a lot of work," she sighed. "I haven't had it in years."

"Paella it is then. We'll skip the pork in it, though. Just chicken and seafood as protein. We could even cook it outside on an open fire, if the weather holds."

"I like that idea. Now, as for sides, a big salad, I think. And maybe some nice, crusty bread."

"And a Spanish red wine," of course," he agreed. "Shall we do appetizers? Dessert?"

"Just the salad as a starter, I'd say, but I'll admit I have a sweet tooth, so yes, definitely dessert. I suppose we could just buy something rather than baking from scratch."

"A sweet tooth, eh? I'll keep that in mind," he said with a grin. "Now, one other thing. Traditionally I host a big dinner on Christmas Day. Everyone I know that otherwise might be alone is invited, usually a dozen people or so show up. I order most of the food from a local caterer."

"What a wonderful idea," said Jean.

"Whether or not you would otherwise be alone, you're very welcome to come," he said. "Unless you have other plans, of course."

"I usually spend the day with my son Christopher's family," she began, "but I haven't heard from him about this year. I don't know if that means he assumes I'm coming or they're doing something else this time. I was planning to call him, feel him out, but if he can't be bothered to invite me, I think I'll take you up on your offer."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to cause hard feelings between you and Chris."

"I'm sure," she said firmly. "I'll stop in there over the weekend to give them their gifts." She noticed Lucien still looked doubtful. As a man estranged from his own family, no doubt he didn't wish the same on her. "It will be fine," she insisted. "He could use a reminder not to take me for granted."

"I can't imagine anyone taking you for granted," he told her, giving the foot he was massaging an extra squeeze for emphasis.

"For the longest time my boys were my whole life," she told him, a bit sadly. "When they grew up and moved away, started lives on their own, it took me far too long to realize it was time for me to do the same, start a life of my own. But now I am."

"Indeed you are," said Lucien. "And on your way to stardom."

"I don't know about that," said Jean. "Oh, speaking of stardom, I owe you an apology."

"Do you?" he asked, eyes widening in curiosity.

"Yes, for insisting you do that interview. I wasn't thinking that it might be awkward for you if too many questions came up about your past. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry."

"Your apology is unnecessary but accepted. Jean, my dear, I gave my first interview at the age of sixteen. It's been a while, but I still remember how to give the press only the information I want them to have. It's a bit like riding a bike: you don't unlearn it."

"Maybe you'll have to give me lessons then, since you think I'm going to be a star," she teased.

"I don't just 'think' it, I know it," he told her.

"Well, then, in that case I'd better get my beauty sleep," she said. "It's been quite a night."

He eased her feet off his lap, then stood and helped her up as well. She held onto his hand for balance as she slipped her shoes back on. "Thank you, Lucien."

He smiled in response, then glanced at the time. "It's very late. I'd feel much better if I knew you got home safely. Would you mind if I followed your car to see you safely inside?"

"That's very thoughtful. I think I'd feel better as well. My neighborhood can be a little dodgy at times," she admitted.

"Is that right?" He looked concerned for her.

"Nothing has really happened to me except men shouting some rather suggestive remarks a time or two. Still, I can't wait to move out when my lease is up next month."

Now he looked even more worried. "I see," he said slowly.

She couldn't help but wonder what it was exactly that he saw, but in any case she was grateful for the escort home.

When she pulled into her parking spot, she saw that he had parked his car on the street and was approaching to walk her to the door. Thankfully the street was quite deserted though. It wasn't strictly necessary, but she wasn't about to argue, especially when he leaned down, planning to kiss her cheek. Instead, she moved her head so that he met her lips.

She caught him by surprise, but it took him only a moment to adjust, deepening the kiss and caressing her top lip with his tongue. She hummed happily in response and touched his tongue with her own, inviting him to further exploration. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb softly stroking it, as his tongue went deeper, dueling with hers.

When she was just beginning to feel the need for air, he pulled back, but touched his forehead to hers. "Good night," he whispered softly.

"Good night to you, Lucien. Safe home."

He waited there until she had let herself inside and had locked the door behind her. She was already counting the hours until she would see him on the morrow.