Deception by Christiane Heggan Page B

his pockets, Dan walked quietly down the aisle. At the fourth row, he took a seat and leaned back, smiling as the woman on the stage struck a theatrical pose.
    “How low of you, Harland,” she said in that same deep, compelling voice that had delighted audiences for the past four decades. “How despicably low and cowardly of you to remind me of my failings. Have I not suffered enough? Repented enough?”
    “Harland” took a puff of his cigar and let out a small snort. “Repent? You? My dear Finiola, I don’t think you even know the meaning of the word.” As he took another puff, he was suddenly overcome by a raging coughing spell.
    In the front row, the man Dan assumed was the director threw his script in the air and jumped out of his seat. “Jesus Christ, Michael,” he bellowed. “What the hell is it now? First you screw up your lines, then you knock down the props, and now this. Are we ever going to get through this scene without an interruption? This is a Broadway play, people, not a kindergarten production. And in case you forgot, we open in three weeks.”
    “It’s this damn cigar.” The actor threw the culprit on the floor and stomped on it like a spoiled child. “I told you I can’t stomach this domestic stuff. Get me something decent, will you? Like a Havana.”
    “Havanas are illegal, Michael.”
    “I don’t give a shit. Get them.” His head held high, Michael stormed off the stage.
    “Michael, come back here.” The director and his assistant hurried after him. “You know the play can’t go on without you.”
    Lilly Grant, never one to miss a grand moment, placed a hand on her hip as her gaze followed the disappearing trio. “The show can’t go on without him? What am I? Chopped liver? Wasn’t my performance good enough to warrant even one compliment?”
    Rising from his seat, Dan began clapping, slowly at first, then with more vigor as he made his way toward the stage. “You were magnificent, Miss Grant, superb, scintillating. Bravo!”
    Obviously pleased, Lilly Grant squinted toward the dark theater. “Thank you, young man.” The exasperation was gone from her voice but not the drama. “Come up here, will you?” She waved him closer. “Your voice sounds familiar. Have we met?”
    “Out of sight out of mind, Lilly?” Dan’s voice was gently teasing. “Shame on you. And you claimed to have such a crush on me.”
    “Daniel?” Clear, seductive laughter cascaded from her lips like a bubbling brook. As Dan climbed the steps to the stage, Lilly’s hands flew to her mouth. “It is you.” “In the flesh, Lilly.”
    Raising herself on tiptoe, she kissed him European style, on both cheeks. “Amanda told me you were in town.” Holding him at arm’s length, the actress gave him a long appraising look. “You scoundrel, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still as handsome as ever.”
    “And you’re still the most beautiful, most talented stage actress in the world.”
    Lilly struck another theatrical pose. “Then, will you tell me why they have paired me with this whining, boring, second-rate performer who has the nerve to call himself an actor? The man never stops complaining, he has the personality of an old prune and about as much stage presence.”
    Dan chuckled. Lilly had never been one to mince words.
    Seductive again, she gazed at him beneath long, dark lashes. “How long have you been watching?”
    “Long enough to want to see more.”
    She had the grace to blush, another of the many tricks of the trade Lilly Grant had mastered over the years. Dan did some quick math. She had to be well over sixty, maybe closer to sixty-five, yet she was still considered one of the world’s great beauties. Petite and slender, she had the most extraordinary slanted green eyes, a thin but well-defined mouth and impossibly high cheekbones.
    She gave him a coy look. “And you really thought I was good?”
    Knowing how much she liked compliments, Dan bowed his head. “You were brilliant.