Once in a Blue Moon Read Free Page B

happened to most of them at one time or another, they told her, and nodded their heads sagely. That was life. She had learned a valuable lesson.
    Perhaps she had. But it had taken her a long, painful time to get over him. And she had always had a reminder of Michael and the pain: his daughter, Jenny.
    “...but of course she always claims to have the inside scoop on everybody,” Amanda was saying, giving Isabelle’s suit a last straightening twitch.
    Isabelle nodded vaguely and hoped she didn’t need to respond. She had no idea what the woman had been saying while her own thoughts had been wandering back ten years in time.
    “Well...” Amanda draped the suit over her arm and picked up the shoes from the counter where she had placed them. “See you Friday—you’re not scheduled tomorrow, are you?”
    “No. A day of rest tomorrow, thank heavens.” Isabelle smiled at Amanda. Whatever tendencies Amanda had toward gossip, she was always on top of her job. And she had unerring taste. Isabelle was grateful to her. After all, there were those costume designers whose chief objective seemed to be to make their actresses look frumpy or sallow.
    “Okay. Just wait till you see the green evening dress I’ve got picked out for you for the party next week. I’ll show you Friday. You’ll look like a million dollars in it.”
    “Wonderful.” Isabelle summoned up enough energy for a last smile at Amanda, then sank onto her chair in front of the vanity and began to take off her heavy on-camera makeup. She combed through her heavily sprayed and arranged hair until it was back into its normal loose style over her shoulders.
    Free of the makeup and elaborate hairdo, she felt better. She rolled her head from side to side, letting the tension of the day begin to drain from her. She thought about the fact that in a few minutes she would be home with Jenny—and there would be a whole day alone tomorrow to marshal her inner strength before she had to see Michael Traynor again.
    Isabelle slipped her feet into her ragged sneakers and grabbed her bag, heading out the door. She walked down the hall, nodding at the people she passed, and out the front door. The sun struck her like a blow, and she hurriedly dug in her bag for her sunglasses. She didn’t notice the knot of people standing on the sidewalk in front of the building until it was too late.
    Michael Traynor was chatting with two of the writers. Isabelle’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t been prepared to see him again. But she summoned up a smile and walked past them with a breezy wave and a “hi,” continuing toward her car in the parking lot without breaking stride.
    “Isabelle! Wait!” She glanced back and saw with an inward groan that Michael had peeled away from the others and was walking toward her.

Two
    I sabelle hesitated. The nerves in her stomach were jumping. She didn’t have the strength to deal with Michael right now. She would have liked to turn and continue walking to her car. But her pride would not let her. She did not want Michael to think that he was able to affect her in any way. So she squared her shoulders and waited, putting a faintly questioning and impatient expression on her face.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling impersonally. “I was just about to leave.”
    Michael stopped in front of her. Isabelle was disconcertingly aware of his body, his charisma, the magnetism of his blue eyes. She fought a sudden surge of sensual memories—the warmth and strength of his arms around her, the delicious taste of his mouth, the shivers of delight his hands had roused on her body.
    “I’ve been hanging around waiting for you,” Michael began. “We need to talk.”
    Isabelle raised her eyebrows coolly, though inside, her nerves were jangling. “We do?”
    “Yes.” Michael frowned. “We’re going to be working together. I—It would be easier if things were straight between us.”
    “As far as I know, there isn’t anything ‘between us,’”