Page 9 of Hunted Hearts
“Uh—Theo. Please take your hand off Mr. Kline and let him in.” Juliette stepped close, so close that he realized that sweet, earthy scent was her perfume.
Reluctantly, he dropped his hand but folded his arms in a way he knew made his biceps bulge. The closest he could come to a threat right now.
“Who are you?” he demanded again.
The man let out a laugh, jerking his thumb toward Theo. “You really don’t know?”
“Not a clue, buddy.”
“Mr. Malone, this is the night show host. I’m performing on his show in just an hour’s time.”
When Theo stared at her, she gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Camden Kline?”
“Never heard of you. Give me your ID.”
“Oh my god!” Juliette’s exclamation rolled right off Theo as he held out his palm for the guy’s ID.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and then flipped open his wallet to pull out his driver’s license. Theo took it and compared the face on the card to the man in front of him.
He handed it back. “We’re in the middle of something. What can we do for you?”
Camden looked at him with a little more respect and turned to Juliette, rushing through what sounded to Theo like a rehearsed monologue thanking her for being on his show.
The instant the guy left and the door shut, she whirled toward Theo. “You’re—ah!” She threw up her hands.
“I’m going to suggest again that you consider canceling this performance. These opportunities must be a dime a dozen for you.”
She jutted her jaw and shook her head. “Not a chance.”
“The fame isn’t worth it.”
Angry sparks shot from her eyes. “You think this is about fame? Through my art, I spread awareness for a charity that is very near and dear to me! Now, if you’ll get out of my dressing room, I need to prepare for my performance!”
Pink flushed her cheeks as she ripped open the door and held it for him.
With mounting frustration, he saw she wasn’t going to listen to him and cancel. He stepped up to the door, pausing to look down at her for a long moment.
She squirmed a bit under his gaze but held her ground.
“I’ll be right outside this door.”
“Fine.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t call me Mr. Malone. Call me Theo.”
* * * * *
The stage lights warmed Juliette’s bare arms like sunlight, even though it was early evening. In her world, it wasn’t even technically time for the evening meal, which always took place at seven-thirty when she was growing up.
The faint traces of last night’s band still lingered in the air—stale sweat and a hint of patchouli. Juliette stood center stage, violin resting in the crook of her shoulder. She tested the grip of her bow one last time.
And…there it was. The light, familiar flutter.
It wasn’t quite nerves—she knew nerves. This was something different, something she only felt on those rare occasions when she knew a performance was going to bereallyelectric, when every note she rehearsed began to vibrate just under her skin.
