Intermezzo by Delphine Dryden Read Free Book Online Page A

had the luxury of layers, a
side-swept bang that flattered the angles of her face, a few gently curling
tendrils pulled out for effect near the neckline. No stage makeup, just her
usual lip-gloss and mascara, but she still felt a bit better for making an
effort.
    As the dancers started to pour in, grumbling and chattering,
Lily abandoned the seat and strode across the room, only to catch an unexpected
glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror at one end of the long space.
    I look like I’m in charge , she thought with a start,
turning to face the image. She didn’t look like a woman who was stuck in a rut
and marking time because her real career had died, but like a woman who knew
what she was doing and enjoyed it. Confident.
    As a dancer, she had only ever felt that way when the show
was over and the audience was applauding. Fleeting, and so dependent on other
people’s approval. Now other people depended on Lily.
    Before that line of thinking went much further, she was
distracted by the buzz of preshow excitement, the last-minute preparations, the
mini-tantrums and dramas that always flew around the dressing room before a big
show. Minutes before curtain she heard the sound system click on, and the
distinctive tones of the orchestra tuning up caused the dancers’ excitement to
ratchet up several notches.
    When places were called, Lily followed the wave of floating
tulle out to the wings. The dancers milled there in silence, awaiting their cue
while the conductor took his podium to a smattering of polite applause.
    Lily saw it on one of the closed-circuit monitors first and
thought she must be mistaken. Then she looked closer and her jaw dropped as she
recognized the man raising his baton to begin the overture. It wasn’t Paolo.
    It was Aidan.
    * * * * *
    If any of the dancers had needed Lily’s help during the
first act, they would have been out of luck. She was so dazed and anxious she
barely followed their movements on and off stage.
    At intermission, when most of the troupe mobbed the dressing
room, Lily hung back in the wings, leaning on the wall by the curtain controls
and trying not to think at all. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when
something soft brushed the tip of her nose.
    Damn, he looks good in a tux .
    “Where’s Paolo?” she asked Aidan, who was just about to tap
her nose again with the fat pink rose he was carrying.
    Before he answered he offered her the rose, which she took
automatically then held in two fingers, twirling it around. The thorns had been
carefully stripped from the stem.
    “Paolo didn’t work out,” Aidan told her. “He didn’t have a
feel for the music at all. He had to go.”
    “So you’re staying until David can find a better
replacement?”
    “I’m staying for the rest of the tour.”
    “What about your recording session? I thought—”
    “The guest conductor was thrilled at the prospect. And my
director was accommodating about the terms of my contract. These were unusual
circumstances,” he said with a wave of his hand at the theater in general, “but
he recognizes that’s the risk when your conductor is also a composer.”
    “Rock-star composer,” Lily reminded him.
    “Still waiting for the paycheck. This was more important to
me,” he said, catching her free hand in his. “I wanted to come talk to you
about it, but the past few days have been from hell and there was never time.”
    A gaggle of dancers wandered back into the wings and started
stretching at the barre along the wall. Intermission would be over soon and
Aidan would have to return to the orchestra pit.
    “What if we find out we hate each other?” she asked,
thinking at least one of them should be the practical one. “You’ll be stuck
here.”
    Aidan chuckled, bracing a hand over her head against the
wall and leaning in with a lascivious grin. “The tour is only a month long, Lily.
That’s not even going to get us past the fucking-like-bunnies stage.”
    She suppressed a