A/N Sorry for the delay, but RL keeps rearing its ugly head.
I cannot thank my friends and betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour enough for their continuing support and encouragement..
Through the haze of her sorrow, Christine slowly became aware of voices and her eyes scanned the landscape below her balcony until she found the source. Oh it's the part-timers, coming back from one of their beach parties. I should be with them, she thought bitterly. He's ruined my entire summer, and why? Because I bruised his ego? He doesn't give a damn that he's broken my heart. Well, I may have to sing in his damned piano bar four nights a week, but the rest of my time is my own … and I'm going to salvage what I can of the time's that left. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to her left, neatly ignoring his side of the balcony and without another glance at his suite, went inside.
She unpacked the rest of her clothes, and once she settled her sundries in the spacious bathroom, decided to take advantage of the Jacuzzi. She hissed as she entered the hot water, but settled in and turned on the jets. Between the heat and the spray, the bath worked its wonder on her, and she emerged relaxed enough to fall into bed.
Although he kept telling himself he could not hear her, Erik was achingly aware of Christine's movements. He knew when she left the balcony, and it didn't take a large stretch of the imagination to know she would take advantage of the Jacuzzi in her bathroom. He grinned as he remembered her obvious pleasure in the hot tub, then frowned as he just as quickly reminded himself that she meant nothing to him.
Determined to move on with his life, as she had obviously moved on with hers, Erik sat down at his piano and began to play.
Christine moved and moaned in her sleep as she felt his music wrap itself around her. She could feel his breath on her neck, his hands as they slid down her body, searching for her very female heat. She gasped.
And woke up, flushed and out of breath. Good God, what is wrong with me? I am losing my mind, she thought, even as her arms reached for him, encountering only the vast emptiness of her bed. She remembered, then, and her heart ached with yearning. She rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. She stared with disbelief at her reflection, and thought bitterly that it was just as well he wasn't there – she would have scared him to death. Washing her face briskly, she paused to get a bottle of cold water from the small refrigerator in her suite, then returned to her bed. It's wonderful that I have this huge bed to myself, she thought as she laid down diagonally across its expanse. And she refused to acknowledge the tears as they silently soaked her pillow.
Fresh from her shower, Christine sat down to do her make up before she finished drying her hair, and was shocked again at how bad she looked. Good thing the Piano Bar is dark she thought to herself ruefully, otherwise, I'd be scaring the patrons to death tonight. She finally decided to lay down with a cold cloth across her eyes, hoping that the puffiness would go down enough that she could go the staff dining room for lunch and not give anyone cause for alarm.
That worked, and Christine ate lunch, then went out to the pool to relax before getting ready for work. I could get used to this, she thought to herself, I could be a regular lady of leisure. She lazily watched the young couples, obviously on vacation, and her heart contracted suddenly. Will that ever be me? she wondered. Jacqueline's voice interrupted her thoughts, but shaking her head suddenly, she refused to listen.
Erik's eyes feasted on Christine as she wooed the crowd with her voice. She was in red and black tonight, and his throat tightened when he saw the deep v of her sequined halter. Her leather pants fit like a glove, and he smirked at the thought of working them past her hips, then slowly down her legs … He jerked suddenly, and nearly missed a note. Christine picked up on the near miss, and slanted a quick, questioning look at him before she realized what she was doing. Her voice thickened, and she finished the song huskily. The patrons all shifted uncomfortably as the sexual tension between the man and woman on stage was unmistakable. Erik paused before starting the intro to her final set, and Christine nearly sank to the floor with relief when a server quietly brought water to her. Pulling herself together, she gave a quick nod to Erik, then plunged into her song.
She had less than an hour between acts, and she fled to the staff dining room to get something to ground her before returning to the stage. She had just made a cup of tea when Erik appeared, angrier than she could remember seeing him.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed at her.
"Making a cup of tea," she answered matter of factly.
"No, not this ... not now. What do you think you're doing – dressed like that, Christine? You look like there's a fire sale … and you're the merchandise."
"Am I not?" she questioned quietly.
Rage, hot and blinding, flooded through him, and Christine instinctively took a step back from him. He tamped it down, then said through gritted teeth, "I suggest you reconsider your outfit for the remainder of the evening Christine. Otherwise, you will be the only one responsible for whatever may happen once the guests leave."
"Oh, right," she sneered. "Like you don't have any responsibility for your actions. Like you don't have any control over your …" she stopped as he suddenly gripped her arm.
"If you do not change your clothing," he said in a quiet voice as he released her arm, "then I will know you intend to have me tonight." And he left as quietly as he came.
It was all she could do not to hurl the teacup at his retreating back. Sitting down, she seethed as she drank her tea and thought about his ultimatum. How dare he? she raged to herself. Who the hell does he think he is, telling me how to dress. And judging me – that's rich! And then, threaten me, yet blame me all the while. She was so engrossed in her self-righteous anger that she was startled when a server came to tell her she had only five minutes before her next act. Guess that settles it, then. I don't have time to go up to my suite and change. A flurry of anticipation skirted through her, before being chased by the returning rage. As if he has the right to tell me what to wear! And, if he touches me tonight, I'll … I'll … Well, I just won't let him. And with a defiant toss of her head, she made her way back to the Piano Bar.
Erik's eyes glittered, and he raised one brow in acknowledgment of her acceptance of his challenge, but Christine steadfastly ignored him. Her stomach clenched as she went through the songs, but she was determined to see things through to the undeniably bitter end. Although both were achingly aware of the other, their music did not suffer. If anything, it made it more intense.
She toyed briefly with the idea of fleeing once her last set was over; he, after all, would remain and play for awhile. I could go down to the beach – join my former coworkers at the bonfire, she thought idly. Or I could just go back to my suite. But she did neither, contenting herself with sitting at the end of the bar, watching him surreptitiously as he played.
What is she thinking? he wondered as his hands skated over the board, caressing the keys as he coaxed the music from them. Has she conceded defeat? His eyes narrowed at this, and he told himself to calm down. Does she refuse to accept any responsibility for her actions? Is she trying to force my hand, he smirked a bit at that, knowing that she will enjoy every minute of it, yet remain guilt-free, the hapless, helpless victim once more? His set ended, he acknowledged the applause from the patrons before rising and walking over to where she sat.
Her stomach tightened as she watched his approach, and her body tingled with well-known awareness. Get hold of yourself, Christine! she admonished herself silently. He's merely walking towards you. Good Lord, girl, if watching him walk reduces you to mindlessness, how are you going to see this through? Her resolve returned as he reached for her, and she slid gracefully off the barstool, just beyond his grasp. With a final smile for the bartender, Christine turned and led the way out of the Piano Bar.
He watched her as he silently followed her. They reached the elevator, and she pressed the call button. Their awareness of each other was a tangible, living thing which shimmered in the air between them, and Christine fought to control herself as she struggled to breathe calmly. If he was aware of her silent struggle, he did not betray that; her awareness of him heightened in the face of his continued silence.
The elevator finally arrived, and the door slid open with a gentle hiss. She swallowed suddenly, then forced herself to enter the car. She pressed the number for their floor, then turned and watched him enter behind her. The door slid shut; the car shuddered slightly, then began its gentle journey upwards.
Erik knew Christine too well; she could not fool him. She was feeling many things, but she was not nervous. He began to allow himself the slight hope that she had rethought her stance. Come back to my bed, Christine, and everything else will work itself out. She startled suddenly, and stared at him. He flushed slightly, wondering if she had read his thoughts. Or perhaps I thought out loud, he mused as she continued to stare at him. Finally, the car stopped and rang the bell as it reached their floor. Again, Christine left the elevator first, with Erik directly behind her.
She forced herself to walk steadily towards her suite, knowing that she had to pass his suite first. As they reached his door, Erik's hand shot out and curled around her arm, gently but firmly, stopping her. She turned and looked directly at him once again.
He was slightly uncomfortable, as the first thoughts that this may not go quite as he had planned entered his mind. He quirked a brow at her, and could not control the smirk as he reminded her of his promise in the staff dining room.
"Erik," she said quietly, "I don't think so. Please let go of my arm; I wish to return to my suite. Alone."
"I told you, my dear, exactly what you could expect if you refused to change your outfit."
She shook her head at him and sighed. "You can't tell me what to wear, Erik, and my clothing is not responsible for your behavior. I will not wear these leather pants again, because I truly did not realize the message they sent. Thank you for pointing that out to me." She continued to look at him, waiting. "Erik, let go of me," she repeated, "please don't ruin what we've shared by treating me like something you've bought."
"You've accused me of that often enough."
"I have, and I was wrong to do that. You never treated me like a whore," she blushed, suddenly remembering her behavior that night in his suite which precipitated her promotion from maid to soloist, "even when I behaved badly. Please, let go of my arm."
He wavered, torn between his frustration, his desire, and his love.
"You told me to come back when I realized that what we had is worth fighting for. If I spend the night with you tonight, Erik, all we ever had will be reduced to just sex. There will be nothing left that is worth fighting for."
Still not speaking, he slid his hand down her arm, and noticed with satisfaction her eyes following his hand and the slight trembling his touch induced. Reaching her hand, he stopped, and waited for her eyes to meet his. She swallowed again, wondering with a sick dread in the pit of her stomach if she had gambled and lost. Finally taking a deep breath, she brought her eyes up and looked directly into his. He could see doubt, fear, and desire skip across her face as she waited for his next move. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, and she was nearly ready to grab his keycard from him and swipe it through to open the door. Triumph flashed through his eyes, and her world tilted. Before she knew what was happening, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.
"Good night, Christine. Rest well," he said as he released her hand. She stood there stupidly for a moment, her brain trying to wrap itself around this sudden change. Sighing deeply, he took her arm and led her to her door. Taking her keycard from her pocketbook, he swiped it and opened the unlocked door. He led her inside, then pressing a kiss to her forehead, he whispered his good night once again. Christine was still standing there when her door closed behind him.
