Summary: Meg's fallen for the leading man, Ryan, during their production of "Wicked" in London, and has developed a friendship with him. She has been warned of his sexual orientation, as it does not favor the fairer sex. Will Meg break off this dangerous relationship or will she pursue her heart's desire?

Is He or Isn't He?

Meg's heart fluttered as she watched Ryan spread a blanket between two long tree roots extending from the ground like miniature logs. The afternoon was sunny and warm, and the tall, thick branches served as a huge personal umbrella. He took the picnic basket from her grasp and set it down, frowning just a bit. Since they arrived at the park, Meg had not said a word.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

Is this okay? It's beautiful and romantic… Her gaze fell across his lean figure as he knelt down, admiring the muscular outline of his shirt. Busily, he removed items from the basket, reminding her very much of her own mind's version of Prince Charming…tall, handsome, gentlemanly… Nodding her head like a foolish, lovesick girl, she finally made her mouth form the words. "It's perfect."

He shot her a smile that made her pulse quicken, and patted the blanket beside him, gesturing for her to sit. "I know I said that I was going to take you to lunch, but it's such a beautiful day for a picnic."

"I love it," she told him simply, watching in amazement as he continued to pull containers, utensils, napkins, and cut fruit from the large, well-stocked basket. Practically drooling at the impressive spread, Meg was sure she had even seen brownies in one of the containers. He had everything imaginable, she mused, except…

"Wine?" he offered, removing two goblets from the basket and a bottle from its own insulated container inside.

"Please." It was all perfect, and she couldn't imagine that a woman could have packed a nicer picnic lunch. Meg accepted a glass of wine from him and took an eager sip. The sweet taste caressed her tongue.

"I hope you're hungry," he told her, removing the lids from the containers, and reaching for some serving spoons.

"I am."

As Meg's taste buds delighted in the chicken casserole he had no doubt prepared himself, she helped herself to a large, fluffy biscuit, and a bowl of crisp garden salad, selecting from one of the dressings he had packed. "It's delicious, Ryan," she cooed.

"This was my favorite meal back home," he told her. "I miss Mom's cooking."

"I think it's wonderful you know how to cook. I never learned, growing up in the opera house."

"Well, I have four sisters, and so I had to learn everything they had to learn. Cook, sew, clean, do laundry…"

"That's a good thing," Meg replied. Okay, the man had sisters, a heavy female influence. That doesn't make him gay, her mind argued.

"I remember watching my mom at her sewing machine, fascinated by how quick and efficient it was, and so much easier than hand sewing. Do you know what my first sewing project was?" Ryan asked, his brown eyes settled on hers, a glint lighting them like a fire.

"What?" she asked, losing herself to the intensity of his gaze.

"A quilt."

Okay, that's not so gay… "Really?"

He removed a chocolate covered strawberry from one of the containers and raised it to her lips. "Yes, and I loved it so much that I began to sew anything and everything, experimenting with different fabrics. My little sister was into dolls, so I used to make clothes for them."

Meg opened her mouth as he fed her the strawberry, biting into the delightful combination of dark chocolate and berry. "That's nice," she said. And kind of gay.

Swallowing, Meg's mind struggled with the hard evidence, but still something inside her would not let her give up. "So, Ryan, back at home, did you ever play any sports?" she probed.

"I liked soccer."

Soccer…not gay.

"I was also a cheerleader in high school," he told her proudly. "In fact, I was the only male cheerleader on our squad. We competed nationally."

Her heart sunk as she pictured the man seated beside her in a brightly colored uniform holding pom poms, and wearing a wide toothy grin. A cheerleader…gay. "That's nice," Meg replied.

"For some reason, I was really good friends with the girls, but the guys," he paused, lifting his gaze to the sky thoughtfully, "not so much."

Gay…she thought sadly.

"But it wasn't until college when I got into theater that I found a common bond with other men."

Oy.

Meg was sure she did not want to let the conversation proceed in this direction. Biting her lip, her eyes quickly turned to the only container that was still closed shut.

"Are those brownies?" she asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.

His face lit up. "Yes." His elegantly manicured fingers lifted the lid and gingerly removed a velvety perfect square. "These are my specialty. I call them Ryan's caramel brownies."

Just as he did with the strawberry, he held it to her lips until she opened her mouth and took a bite, closing her eyes as the melody of sweets danced in her mouth. "Mmmmm," was all Meg could say as she continued to savor the rest of the rich dessert.

"The secret is that you use evaporated milk," he informed her. "Not sweetened condensed, but evaporated. And I don't use caramel syrup, but actual caramel squares."

Meg nodded along. "Caramel squares," she repeated, wanting to kick herself for falling for a gay man.

An awkward silence fell over the pair, and she looked out at the pond, watching as a mother duck and her row of ducklings emerged from the water behind her. In truth, Meg wanted to look at anything other than Ryan at the moment. She did not want to feel one more pang of sadness every time she set eyes upon his chiseled features. He wasn't making it easy for her as she could feel him watching her.

"Marguerite?"

She turned to face him, and the sight of his sensual lips smiling at her caused her heart to skip a beat. "Yes?"

He locked eyes with hers, his gaze burning intensely. "I know I've said this before, but Marguerite Giry, you are going to be famous someday."

The blond couldn't help but smile. "Why do you say that? I mean, how can you know?"

"I can tell when I look into your incredible eyes. Sometimes I can look at someone and tell that even though they're talented and good-looking, that they will never hit the big time, but when I look at you, I can see it, Marguerite. It's there, this inner light you have. It sparkles like the sun," he told her, lifting her chin and forcing her to meet the warmth in his eyes.

"And what about you, Ryan Cooke, are you going to be famous?" she asked, mesmerized still by the powerful way he spoke to her, and made her feel like the most important woman in the world.

At this, Ryan laughed, dropping his hand into his lap. "No, my sweet Marguerite, I shall not be famous. I was meant to do what I do now. I perform in the theatre, live a private life enjoying my own small success, never daring or hoping for anything more."

"But why?"

"Because I'm happy doing exactly what I'm doing," he answered simply, meeting the question in her blue eyes.

Their eyes locked once more, and Meg tried desperately to identify the storm of emotions on his face. What was it that she saw? Could it possibly be longing? No, she told herself.

Maybe it was just gas…

But still, he had never looked at her this way before, and although Meg had sworn to herself she would not ask, now she could not stop the words from leaving her lips.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" she whispered, and could immediately feel the blood fill her cheeks at his reaction.

Ryan laughed loudly, falling backward into a lying position. At least a full minute passed before he sat up and faced her, noticing how uncomfortable she looked.

"I'll answer that if you answer my question," he told her.

By now, Meg wished they could just drop the subject, but she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that that was not going to happen. "I asked you first."

"If you want me to answer your question, you have to answer mine."

"Fine."

Ryan cleared his throat. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

Shocked and horrified, Meg said nothing. Well, there was that kiss with Christine… She shook her head, unable to speak.

At this, Ryan chuckled. "I was joking."

Gasping, Meg swung her arm at him, meeting his shoulder with her fist.

"Ow!" Rubbing his shoulder, he chuckled and watched her face return to its normal pale color.

"Well?" she demanded. "Have you?"

He reached the half empty bottle of wine and filled his glass. "I'm not gay."

With wide blue eyes, she only stared at him in disbelief. Ryan filled her glass with the rest of the wine, but as she questioned whether she had heard him correctly, she burst into giggles. "You're joking."

"I'm not joking," he said, putting the lid back on the bottle. "I'm not gay and to answer your question, I have only been with one woman in my whole life."

Meg's heart began to pound wildly. She hoped that he was not toying with her. "One woman?"

For the next few minutes, Meg listened as Ryan told of his childhood sweetheart, Joanna. They had met when they were eight years old and since that time had become inseparable. The two had been crazy about each other, and their innocent relationship had blossomed as they got older, becoming much more serious. She had been his only girlfriend, and just before graduation, he had proposed to her. With tears in her eyes, Joanna had accepted, but her parents had convinced her to wait until after college to marry. For some reason, the last year of college they barely spoke, and although when they met again, he was still madly in love with her and ready to marry, Joanna had become engaged to someone else.

"And so that was it," Ryan admitted. "I had to get away from New York City. I couldn't be anywhere near her. I didn't want to be around anything that reminded me of her. I left my mom and dad, my sisters, even my cat, Fluffy."

"You came all the way to London?"

"I'd always wanted to see London, and found work easily, so now, four years later, this is my home."

Meg still could not believe it. "But, everyone thinks you're gay!"

"I know. After Joanna, I didn't want to get involved with another woman ever again, so when the rumor started, I did nothing to stop it."

"Didn't it bother you?"

"At first it did, I mean, what's so wrong about knowing show tunes? My mother and father were both actors in off Broadway productions. My sisters and I saw every musical there was to see, sang every song, and knew every word by heart. We were a family of performers. What's so gay about that?"

She didn't know what to say. It sounded reasonable. "Nothing…"

"And it's not like I talk gay or act that way. And I've certainly never been with another man!"

"I think it's that you are so perfect, Ryan, that it's hard to believe that you could be straight," Meg said, laughing.

Ryan set a hand on her cheek, caressing her jaw with his thumb. "I think YOU are perfect, Marguerite."

Her heart melted with his words and Ryan leaned close to kiss her. Meg's lips met his eagerly, tenderly, and months worth of pent up emotion brought the two together in a passionate embrace. It was exhilarating, and her head spun with the thrill of his kiss. This was the second time she had been in love, and now as the strength of Ryan's arms warmed her, she could barely remember her former tutor…Erik who?

Their performance was only hours away, yet Ryan brought Meg to his flat after the picnic. After all that had happened at the park, Meg still found herself in disbelief, somehow still doubting his sexual orientation. Holding the picnic basket in her hands, she waited as Ryan fussed with the keys in the lock, complaining that he always had to struggle to get it open.

He stopped for a moment and faced her, his face suddenly distraught. "Maybe this is a mistake."

"Why?" she asked. "I just want to see where you live. You always come to my flat."

"I know, but I hadn't planned this. I didn't expect to bring you here today, Marguerite."

"Well, if you're not comfortable with doing this today, then maybe another time…" Meg suggested, hoping that he would not agree.

"No," he said with a smile, turning and poking the key back into the lock. "Today is fine. I want you to come inside."

The seconds ticked on as he struggled with the lock once again, and for the first time, Meg actually felt panicky. Now, she was head over heels for this man, and if it wasn't really true, then she had no idea how she would recover. What if he was gay, she thought, but was experimenting with women? No, it was too horrible a thought. He can't be gay, she told herself, and as he finally got the door open, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and winked, taking the picnic basket from her, and gesturing for her to enter first.

She walked into the dark room, wondering if she hadn't made a big mistake by coming here. Was she setting herself up for disappointment? He can't be gay, she told herself again.

Ryan flipped on the light, and Meg gasped as she met the sight before her. The flat was an absolute mess. She was certain that there was furniture somewhere, but she couldn't see it because clothing, books, papers, and mess littered every square inch.

"I'm sorry, Marguerite," he told her ashamedly. "I wasn't expecting company."

Delighted, Meg's face lit up. "Are you normally a neat person?"

He hung his head. "No, not even a little."

Ryan looked at the beautiful blond before him as she gaped at the filth of his flat. "I don't blame you if you want to leave."

NOT gay!

Suddenly, Meg began to laugh, unable to control herself, relieved that her heart was safe. "It's a pigsty, Ryan," she told him finally. She turned and shut the door behind her and encircled her arms around his back, giving him a long kiss. "I'm not going anywhere."

A/N: So now we have our answer, but I can assure you there is more to come. Please encourage me to keep writing with your reviews! I do so love to hear what you think!