Page 105 of Passionate Defense

“What?”

“Melanie, she’s a character.”

He looked as confused as she felt. That’s when she knew he had it all wrong. But how did she explain it to him? An idea came to her. “I think I understand what’s going on. Hang on, I want to show you something.”

Throwing aside the tangle of covers, Lanie scrambled off the bed and went to the desk in the corner. She opened a drawer, shuffled through it, and then opened another. “Where did I put that?” she muttered as she pulled out yet another drawer. “Here it is.”

Padding soundlessly on bare feet across the carpeted floor, she brought him a glossy yellow booklet. Sitting beside him, she looked on as he stared at a playbill forApplause. Her name, with only a few others appeared under the wordcastin bold letters.

His eyes shifted to her in surprise. “This is from Boston College. You studied drama?”

She snorted. “Are you kidding? Dad’s head would have exploded. When I broached the subject as a freshman, you know what he said?” Her voice lowered as she mimicked her father. “You should have had your fill of such nonsense in high school.” She sighed wistfully. “We didOklahomamy senior year. I got to sing a little. Not lead; you know me and my mediocre vocal skills. Still, I loved it.”

Glimmers of her short-lived dramatic career came flooding back. It was fleeting but very special.

“Lanie.”

She shook her head, casting away the memories of what might have been. “Sorry. I don’t think I ever told you that as a child, I dreamed of becoming an actor. To me, lawyers were stern-faced men in suits who smoked smelly cigars and talked about boring things I couldn’t relate to. But movie stars lived glamorous, exciting lives, had the money to live in a house overlooking the ocean, and traveled on location to faraway places. That’s what appealed to me.” She nodded at the playbill. “I only did the play in college because I had to take a fine arts course for my major. Dad wanted me to take art history.” She made a face then mimicked a yawn. “What a snooze fest. I took theater instead.”

“I’m not following.”

“Have you seen the play? It’s based onAll About Eve.”

“I saw the movie, but it was years ago.”

“Mm, you missed out, although Bette Davis was very good. I can still hear her sneeringly precise voice saying, ‘Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.’ That was such a great line.”

“Lanie, what does this have to do with us?”

“Sorry. I have a point, but seeing this made me nostalgic.” She took the playbill from him, smoothing the tattered corners, as new, less pleasant memories emerged. “Dad never came to see it. He missedOklahoma, too, andUp the Down Staircase, which we did in my junior year. Although my part in that was tiny.”

Shifting to her knees, she stretched and set the playbill on the nightstand, returning to lean into his side. “Don’t get me wrong. Dad loved me, in his own way, but I think he wanted a boy. Someone with the same drive and killer instinct he had. Instead, he got a girly girl and a dreamer. College and subsequently law school weren’t an option for me. It was a mandate. Dad was a powerful, influential man who didn’t like to be questioned. I didn’t and dutifully studied law. Knowing I was headed that way, I used drama to escape.” She looked up and met his worried gaze.

“I need more here, baby. Still not following.”

“Ethan, you’re worried that you’ve changed me, somehow diminished my fire, or took away my dreams, right?” Climbing back on top of him, she braced her hands on his chest as she stared deeply into his eyes, hoping he would hear her. “Don’t you see? You didn’t change Melanie, you set Lanie free.”

One hand slid behind her neck and he pulled her down until they were nose to nose, his eyes blazing into hers. “I’m lost here. For the sake of what control I have left, stop being so cryptic and explain in fifth-grade language even a dim-witted man like me can understand what the hell you are talking about.”

She shook her head. “Professor, you’re far from dim-witted and are usually very perceptive, but sometimes I think you wouldn’t recognize a snake if it bit you on the ass.” She smiled gently to take away the sting of her words. “I knew from the beginning I didn’t have the killer instinct to be a successful attorney. As a woman in a man’s world, I needed balls as big, if not bigger, than anyone with a pair I came up against. I didn’t have them, so I created someone who did—Melanie Fischer, the Ice Queen, whom you so eloquently called a card-carrying bitch in the courtroom.” She framed his face with her hands. “She’s a façade, Ethan, far removed from the real Lanie, especially when I’m with you.”

He studied her silently when she was done. When the silence dragged on, Lanie prompted, “Please, say something.”

He did, softly murmuring, “Thank God,” as he pulled her hard against his chest. “For a minute there, I thought Melanie was the real you, and that what we have together was the act.”

“For an amateur, I’m pretty good, but I’m no Meryl Streep. How could you think I would fake what we have, or ever deceive you that way?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He buried his face in her neck and brushed his lips across the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. It always made shivers race up her spine, as it did now. “I’m sorry, baby, but Christ, when I saw you today, coolly staring down the opposing council like you could freeze him where he stood, I had to wonder.”

“You rarely come see me in court, but that was all Melanie. How do you think I got the nickname?”

It was his time to shiver. “Have to admit. You’re kind of scary as Melanie.”

“Darn. There goes my plan to put on a power suit and play Mistress Freeze in the bedroom.”

He rolled them until her back found the mattress. “Remember when we first started, and I explained who wielded the whip in this relationship? That still holds true.”

“Melanie can’t come by your classroom and use one on your distrustful behind?”

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