Diamonds and Dreams (15 page)

“Did
you slip him the paper with my name and phone number on it?”

Lindsay
looked down and saw the note on the floor by her chair where she dropped it
when Derek chose her to come on stage with him.
 
“Oh, gosh, Danielle!
 
I was so shook up that I forgot.
 
Sorry!”

“Never mind.”
 
Her voice broke with disappointment, and then lightened up again when
she remembered, “At least he liked you.
 
Wow, Lindsay!
 
I wish you could
have seen the sparks that you and Derek threw off when you danced.”

“I
felt them.
 
Do you know what else
happened?”
 
Lindsay leaned closer to
Danielle so no one else could hear.
 
“Derek asked me to meet him backstage later.”

Danielle
reached out and clutched the arms of her seat and looked like she might
faint.
 
“You’re kidding!
 
You really do have all the luck.”

“It
might not be wise for me to take him up on his offer.”

“What
do you mean?
 
You’ll be sorry if you
don’t go meet him.
 
How many times in
life do you think opportunities like this present themselves?”

“He
may hope I’ll turn out to be a one-night stand.
 
I don’t want that.”

Danielle
rolled her eyes.
 
“Too bad I can’t think
of a way to trade places with you.
 
If it
were me, I’d be waiting backstage now.”

Lindsay
debated what she should do until finally it was time for the end of the
show.
 
A flurry of hotel room keys and
lacy bikini briefs went flying through the air and landed onstage at Derek’s
feet as he said, “Thank you.
 
You’ve been
a wonderful audience.
 
Goodnight.”

“It’s
time.”
 
Envy coated Danielle’s
voice.
 
“How I wish I could be you…and in
Derek’s bed tonight!”

In
the end, Lindsay wound up backstage and was astonished when a robust body guard
standing by Derek’s dressing room door told her, “Wait here.
 
He’s expecting you.
 
He’ll be out shortly.”

Her
mind whirled from the knowledge that Derek must have pointed her out to this
man who informed her that his name was Al.
 
She sat on a wooden bench in the corridor and mentally rehearsed
possible speeches she would make to let Derek know that she was not interested
in sharing more than a cup of coffee or talking with him when Brant appeared
around a corner.

“What
are you doing here?” she asked, stunned to see him at the Palace.

“I
was in the audience tonight.
 
You were
really something else on stage.”

She
felt uncomfortable since she figured he could guess why she was backstage
now.
 
“You didn’t answer my question—why
did you come tonight?”

“I’m
here to try to talk Derek into doing a radio interview for WQXL.
 
I hope that you’re not here because Derek
might have asked you to meet him backstage.”

“What’s
it to you if he did?” she snapped.

“When
a man like Derek Eden invites a woman to meet him after a show, he usually has
only one thing on his mind.”

“You’re
a psychic now, Brant?
 
Even if you turn
out to be right, I can take care of myself.”

“Can
you really, Lindsay?
 
I hope so.
 
All I know is that I’d feel better if you’d
forget meeting Derek and come with me instead.”

Before
Lindsay could say anything more, Derek opened the door, stepped out into the
hall and spoke to her, but ignored Brant.
 
“You came.
 
I’m glad.
 
My limo is waiting around back to take us to
the suite of rooms I use during my stay in Columbus.
 
My entourage that always travels with me is
throwing a party there tonight.”

Determined
to speak with Derek, Brant trailed behind them.
 
“Excuse me.
 
I’m Brant--”

Derek
never faced him, but called over his shoulder, “Sorry, pal.
 
We’re in a hurry.
 
Please excuse us.”

Lindsay
glanced back and saw the puzzled expression on Brant’s face evolve into one of
silent fury as he continued to follow them.
 
“Wait a minute,” Brant urged.
 
“Lindsay, can’t you--”

“Beat
it, Mister.”
 
Al, the body guard with
bulging biceps shoved Brant out of the way while Derek slipped his arm around
Lindsay’s waist and left the building with her.

It
appeared to be a quiet night in the city with no sounds other than the almost
relaxing hum of distant traffic disturbed only by occasional noises from
blaring horns.
 
The surrounding buildings
were dark shadows and Lindsay assumed that most of the city already retired for
the evening.

Derek
helped her into a silver stretch limo that was waiting near the sidewalk for
them and Lindsay slid onto the plush leather seat.
 
“Would you like a drink?” the singer offered,
pointing at the small bar.

“No,
thank you.”
 
All the things she planned
on saying fled from her memory and for the first time in years, she felt
tongue-tied.

“Do
you know why I chose you from the audience tonight?” Derek asked, putting his
arm around her shoulders and causing her to become more uneasy.

“No.
 
Why?”

“Every
time I do a concert, it’s the same thing—thousands of screaming, hot-blooded
women at my feet.
 
When I’m on stage
singing, I look out at the ones throwing their underpants and room keys at me,
and I think how disgusting they are.
 
They don’t know a thing about me personally, yet they make it clear that
they’d jump at the chance to crawl into my bed.
 
I spotted you immediately.
 
Your
sophistication and ladylike charm made you stand out from the rest.
 
Seeing someone like you in the audience was
like being overheated and feeling a refreshing cool breeze roll past.”

“I’m
not the type that’s interested in one-night stands, or in pretending that
entertainers or athletes are idols, if that’s what you mean.”

Derek
smiled the famous lady-killing grin that placed him among the top ten sexiest
men in America, according to a popular ladies’ magazine poll.
 
“I’ve been around many people in my lifetime,
and my experience is what allowed me to size you up right away.
 
When I’m on a concert tour,
it’s
hard work and I lead a lonely life.
 
Sometimes, like tonight, I wish I could find
a woman to keep me company and treat me like a person instead of a sex
god.
 
I can get sex any time I want it
from a woman and I enjoy it, but it’s not so easy for me to find someone who’ll
look farther than my body or my money and be content with simply talking and
listening.”

“I
understand,” Lindsay said, “and I think you and I will get along just fine
tonight.”

They
did.
 
For the next few hours, they
dropped in on the party for Derek, but didn’t stay long.
 
It was quieter in the elaborate room with a
crystal chandelier and expensive ivory and red wall covering where Derek set up
a temporary office.
 
There they relaxed,
sipped Dom
Perignon
, and talked about Derek’s career
as well as Lindsay’s, their childhoods, their future goals, world affairs—any
subject that popped up.
 
He didn’t try to
sleep with her and she appreciated the respect he offered her as much as he
said he welcomed her pleasant company.

Around
one a.m. Derek kissed her on the cheek and told her he was glad to have met
her, then Al drove her in the limousine back to the parking lot where she left
her car.
 
It wasn’t until after Al drove
off and she was alone that Lindsay noticed someone had slashed her tires.

Remembering
that Brant had been furious when she left with Derek, she wondered if he might
have committed the deed out of revenge.
 
Then she reminded herself that there’d been many women who were jealous
when Derek chose her to go on stage with him.
 
Maybe one of them saw her step out of her car
earlier that night before the show.
 
She
met Danielle in the lobby, so she’d been the only one in her car when she
arrived.
 
Lindsay wanted to believe that
it was an envious fan, not Brant, who cut her tires, but as she walked across
the empty lot to summon a taxi, she couldn’t push away the gnawing doubts she
possessed about Brant.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

When
Brant didn’t call Lindsay, she refused to mope and agreed to have dinner with
Tony
D’Marco
.
 
As they sat in a quiet French restaurant and romantic music played
softly, Lindsay thought how she and Tony were out of place among the other
patrons—mostly couples, both young and old, who stared dreamily into each
other’s eyes or leaned across the small tables with blue and white checked
cloths to whisper secrets.

“You’re
playing with your food, Lindsay,” Tony observed.
 
“What’s wrong?
 
If you think it doesn’t look appetizing, I’ll
ask a waiter to take it away and you can order something else.
 
Or if you prefer, we can leave here and go to
another restaurant.”

“That’s
not necessary.
 
The food looks and smells
delicious, but I don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

He
surprised her when he rudely reached across the table and took her plate.
 
“Well, if you don’t want this, I’ll eat it.”

“Go
ahead,” she murmured, wishing that she’d stayed home instead of accepting
Tony’s invitation.
 
She realized he tried
to be good company, but he wasn’t succeeding.
 
Perhaps she was spoiled by having the pleasure of knowing how dynamic Brant
could be, so she unfairly and subconsciously compared every man she knew with
him.

At
the end of the evening when Tony walked her to her door, he didn’t ask if he
could kiss her goodnight, but caught her off guard, pressing her tightly
against his chest, then his mouth came crushing down on hers.
 
Before she could shove him away, he
exclaimed, “Wow, Lindsay!
 
You’re not at
all the ice lady that Brant said you were.”

It
took several seconds before the impact of his words hit her.
 
She jerked out of Tony’s embrace, muttered
that she had to go inside and left him outside.
 
After he was gone, she sat cross-legged on the living room carpet and
picked up one of the pillows off the sofa so she could throw it across the floor.
 
How dare Brant talk about her behind her
back!
 
Did he really think she was an
“ice lady,” as Tony said, or did Tony lie?
 
Furious and hurt, yet determined to learn the truth, she rose and
flipped on a brass desk lamp before she called Brant.
 
She cared little that it was late and she’d probably
wake him.

“Hello?”
he finally answered after the sixth ring.

“It’s
Lindsay.
 
I want to talk to you.”

“Now?
 
In my sleep?”
 
His
voice was groggy and he didn’t bother to hide in his tone that he didn’t
appreciate having his rest disturbed.

“Tony
D’Marco
mentioned that you called me an ‘ice
lady.’
 
Did you?”

He
paused,
then
tried to stall.
 
“Can’t this conversation wait until another
time?”

“All
I want you to do is to give me an honest answer,
then
I’ll let you go.
 
Did you say that about
me, Brant?”

“I—
er
—yes,” he finally admitted.
 
“It’s not like it sounds, though.”

Disappointment
and hurt made her swallow the lump that seemed to be in her throat.
 
“Don’t bother trying to gloss this over.
 
After all, how many definitions can the
words, ‘ice lady,’ have?
 
I’m sure I
didn’t misunderstand your meaning.”

Brant
sounded wide awake now.
 
“Lindsay, don’t
hang up yet!
 
Let me explain.
 
I only called you that because I wanted to
protect you.”

“By spreading ugly rumors about me?
 
That kind of protection I don’t need.”