Page 2

As it turned out, he didn’t have to do anything.

One of the fixers turned up to breakfast waving a sheaf of tickets, with a broad smile and an announcement that Myst had invited the entire team to the concert that evening.

Amidst the general enthusiasm from the squad, the coach just shrugged his shoulders and said of course they could go…

as long as they all remembered to stick to the two-beer limit and were in bed by midnight.

“Shall I sort out a bus?” the fixer asked, and was treated to a withering look from the coach.

“This isn’t a school outing. They’re all grown-ups. They can find their own damn way there and back again. I’m going out to dinner with a friend.”

George waited for the coach to leave the room before sidling up to the fixer.

“Hey, I’d really like to meet Myst, thank her personally for doing such an awesome job singing the anthem yesterday. Any chance you could arrange that?”

The fixer, a perky and extremely competent young woman named Zoe, apparently saw nothing suspicious in his request, because she immediately looked down at the phone which was never out of her hand and began tapping on the screen. “Leave it with me, George!”

If anyone could make it happen, Zoe could, so he left the matter in her capable hands and went sightseeing with some of the others. She was waiting for him on his return, slipping a lanyard into his hand with a conspiratorial grin.

“Don’t tell the others, they’ll all want one!”

“You’re a magician, Zoe, thank you.”

She winked before scurrying off to deal with one of the other players who’d somehow managed to lose his room key, and George pocketed the lanyard surreptitiously.

It was a full backstage pass, he saw when he got up to his room and was able to check; he’d be able to go before the show and maybe meet Myst. If it finished late, he might not get back to the hotel on time, so he’d just have to hope she didn’t hole up in her dressing room right up until she had to go on stage.

Now he just had to plan out how to evade his team-mates and get to the arena on his own…

“That special guest you were hoping for has turned up.”

Myst’s eyes popped wide open, causing the makeup artist working on her face to tut in frustration, and she spun in her chair to look at her assistant Jessie, leaning on the doorframe of the dressing-room with a smirk on her face.

“For real?”

“Uh-huh.” Jessie pretended to examine her nails.

Myst tried to peer past Jessie. “Where? Don’t keep him waiting for me!”

“Why not? Don’t let him think you’re over-eager. Men like that have women throwing themselves at him all the time. Keep him hungry. Besides, you’ve only got one false eyelash on.” Jessie grinned. “Let Kaya put the other one on, and I’ll bring him in.”

She did look a bit stupid with only one false eyelash on, Myst conceded as she glanced in the mirror. With an apologetic glance at Kaya, she closed her eyes and sat as still as she could manage.

“I’ll just tidy up the seam and put mascara on,” Kaya said, obviously sensing Myst’s sudden jitters, “and then you’re good to go.”

“Thank you.”

“You like this guy, huh?”

“I don’t even know him,” Myst admitted, “but… have you ever had that thing where your eyes just meet with a complete stranger’s across a crowded space, and everything else just falls away?”

There was an uncomfortable silence before Kaya said quietly “I’ve never been that lucky, no. You can open your eyes now.”

Gentle hands whisked away the cape protecting her outfit, and Myst sighed and opened her eyes, already knowing from that awkward silence what she’d see. George was standing just inside the door, shoulders nearly as wide as the opening, face slightly flushed as he stared at the floor.

“Ten minutes ’til you’re on,” Jessie said, and then she and Kaya were ducking past George and scurrying out, leaving Myst alone with the man she’d just admitted to developing a completely ridiculous crush on despite never having spoken a single word to.

All she could think was, it was a good thing her stage makeup was so thick. It was covering up the burning blush she could feel scorching her entire face.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly.

“Hi,” he said back, looking just as uncomfortable as she felt, and then his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

It was a good thing she was still sitting down, because otherwise she thought she might have fallen.

Meeting his gaze was almost like a physical blow, a gut punch of sensation which expanded the flush of heat in her face throughout her entire body.

She gasped, a soft little intake of breath, and he took a step forward, closer to her, his hands lifting as though to embrace her before he lowered them quickly and stilled.

“I felt it too,” he said, his voice a deliciously deep rumble Myst felt all the way down to her toes.

“That… whatever it was yesterday. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.

Asked an assistant to get me this so I could meet you for real.

” He flicked at the lanyard hanging around his neck, never looking away from her face.

“I invited the team because I wanted to see you again. I was trying to work out how I could invite you backstage when the request came in to get you a pass,” Myst confessed, and George smiled, the expression transforming his battered, rough-hewn face.

He’d never be handsome, but when he smiled… ah, when he smiled he was beautiful .

A loud buzzer sounded, and Myst sighed. “There’s no time ,“ she said, despairing. “Can you come back, after the show?”

“For a while.” He looked sheepish. “I have to be back at the hotel by midnight.”

His life was probably almost as regimented as hers, she realized, constrained by a timetable written by others. Nodding, she accepted the stricture. “I’ll finish around eleven. If you’re in here then, we could get a few minutes to talk.”

“I’ll be here.” He took another small step closer. “What is this?”

She knew exactly what he was asking, and she told him the truth. “I don’t know.”

He reached out a hand, palm up. Waiting.

With only a brief hesitation, Myst held her own hand out over his, noting with amusement the size disparity between them.

George must be at least six foot four and massive, burly with muscle, whereas she was five foot one in her bare feet and less than half his weight.

Her hand looked childlike over his, in the few seconds where she held it still before lowering it and letting her skin meet his for the very first time.

She didn’t know what she’d expected, but the jolt of electricity felt almost familiar, expected , as though she’d known from that first moment of looking into his eyes that this was how it would be when they touched.

Thick fingers closed gently around hers, and she saw the awareness, the shared sensation, in his eyes.

“Whatever this is,” she said, “I’m not willing to walk away without finding out.”

“Me neither.” He moved a half-step closer, and in an unexpectedly gallant gesture, bowed over her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers lightly. “You have to go.”

“I do,” she agreed, wincing as the buzzer sounded again. “That’s my two-minute warning.”

He lowered her hand, letting it go with apparent reluctance.

“Myst!” Jessie’s voice yelled from outside in the hallway.

“I’m coming!”

George moved aside to let her pass, followed her out.

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Enjoy the show.”

“I’m looking forward to it… and even more to the end, because I’ll see you again. I’ll be here.”

Myst felt her smile widen. Jessie took her arm, tugging on it, pulling her towards the stage entrance.

“You look incredible, by the way!” George called from behind her.

She looked back, seeing him standing there square-shouldered and solid, a still, massive presence amidst the chaos backstage.

He smiled when she looked back and she laughed, still unable to believe the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

A rugby player. Of all the unexpected, unlikely people for me to have instant chemistry with!

There was no more time to think as Jessie practically pushed her up into the stage wings, where her band were waiting for her, jogging on the spot with impatient energy.

Trying to push George from her mind, a feat she feared was going to prove utterly impossible, Myst pasted on a smile and took the microphone her sound manager held out with a nod of thanks.

“Good evening, Dublin!” she cried, walking out on stage, and, as it always did, the welcoming roar of the crowd filled her with a surge of energy. Her smile turned genuine as the band struck up the opening chords of the first song, and she opened her mouth and let the music pour out.