The Truth About Elyssa. Lorna Michaels
“I don’t think so.” He smiled slowly, confidently, a challenge in his tone. He took a card from his pocket, scribbled on it and put it into Elyssa’s hand, folding her fingers over it. “Here’s my home number. When you change your mind, call me.” He deliberately emphasized the “when.”
This time, when she stood, he let her go.
When he returned to his office a few minutes later, he sat at his desk, ignored the stack of messages his secretary stuffed into his hand and thought about Elyssa.
She mattered. Without intending to, she drew him, made him yearn. He knew she was driven, energetic and intelligent. She liked kids, read mysteries, never missed an episode of E.R., and tolerated hospital coffee. But he wanted to learn more about her, to learn…everything.
Telling him he was wasting his time wanting to be with her was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
He would keep reminding her he was interested. Step one, he thought, and reached for the telephone.
Chapter 3
Elyssa opened her front door and pushed the cart inside. She wasn’t surprised to see her cousin Cassie seated cross-legged on her living room floor. They weren’t roommates, but Cassie had a key and popped in whenever she pleased.
Clad in a skimpy white camisole, purple nylon running shorts, thick athletic socks and no shoes, Cassie bent forward, brushing the underside of her strawberry-blond hair. When Elyssa walked in, Cassie straightened and flipped the damp hair over her shoulder. “Hi, I used your shower.”
Elyssa pulled off her wig, tossed it on the coffee table along with her purse and dropped onto the couch. “Fine, as long as you left some cool water for me.”
“Why are you still wearing your costume in this heat? Don’t you usually change before you leave the hospital?” Cassie said.
“I was running late.” If she reminded Cassie that she’d quit taking off her costume and makeup since she’d been meeting with Brett, her cousin would launch into a blistering lecture, fiery enough to make the hot August day seem like December. Instead, Elyssa kicked off her black patent leather Mary Janes and changed the subject. “How was your day?”
Cassie grimaced. “One of the kids at Billy Henderson’s birthday party pinched me. Actually pinched me. Right here.” She leaned sideways and rubbed her bottom. “Can you charge a five-year-old with sexual harassment?”
“Not and make it stick.”
“Too bad.” Cassie rose gracefully from the floor. “Go change. I’ll get us some iced tea.” Long-legged and limber, she crossed the room. Elyssa’s gaze followed her cousin as she disappeared into the kitchen. An aspiring actress who’d recently been accepted to the city’s prestigious professional repertory company, Cassie drew eyes as if the spotlight perpetually shone on her. That had always been true.
Elyssa remembered how she’d envied her cousin in high school. People noticed Cassie. Compared to her, Elyssa had felt invisible. Oh, she’d been smart, an A student. She’d participated in activities—had been a reporter on the school paper from her freshman year on. She’d gone on dates, but boys hadn’t gone starry-eyed over her the way they had over Cassie. Of course not. Even in her early teens, Cassie had curves; Elyssa’d had angles. The only time she’d felt special was when she’d performed as Lulu.
“You’re a late bloomer. You’ll find your niche,” her mother used to console her. And in college she had bloomed. The angles softened, her braces came off and her skin glowed. After a couple of false starts, she’d chosen a radio/TV major and by the time she’d finished her second year of college, she’d begun to shine. After graduation, she’d spent a couple of years at a small TV station, then landed a spot with KIND News. By age twenty-seven, she was their rising star.
Thinking of that, and of how abruptly the glitter had faded, Elyssa went upstairs, took off her makeup, shed her costume and slipped into a robe. No wonder she’d resurrected Lulu, she thought. She needed her alter ego to feel special again.
“How was the hospital?” Cassie called as Elyssa started down the stairs.
“Okay.” Tying the sash on her robe, she returned to the living room.
Cassie appeared, carrying two glasses of iced tea. She frowned. “Just okay?”
“Mmm.” Elyssa forced a brighter tone. “Trace really participated. He wanted to know about different kinds of clown costumes. I had to tell him the whole history of clowning.”
“And how’s Dr. Dreamboat? Still saving the world?”
“Working on it, I guess.”
Cassie handed Elyssa a glass and sat on the chair across from her. “You’ve been having coffee in the cafeteria with him for a month now. When are you going to let him take you out?”
Elyssa picked at a loose thread on her robe. “I told him not to ask me again.”
“Elyssa! You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. It’s wasted effort.” Chin thrust out, she glared at her cousin. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Why not give the guy a break? Give yourself one, too.”
“It’s useless, Cass. The first day I met him, he said he’d seen me on the news. He expects me to look like Elyssa Jarmon of two years ago.” Automatically, her hand went to her cheek and traced the scar. “And even after plastic surgery, I don’t.”
“Close enough.”
“It wasn’t close enough for Derek.”
Cassie’s generous, usually smiling mouth, turned grim. “Derek,” she muttered. “If I could, I’d strangle him with my bare hands.” She leaned forward and grabbed Elyssa’s hand. “Don’t judge every man by Derek. He’s a scumbag. He didn’t appreciate what he had in you.”
Elyssa opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Cassie continued, eyes flashing. “You had a rough time after the accident, but you’ve put your life back together. You’ve never been a quitter. Why now?”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, I don’t. You’re not disfigured, are you? You have a few scars, so your face isn’t as perfect as it used to be. I’ll grant you it’s enough to keep you off the air—”
Elyssa’s chin shot up again. “I handled that.”
Cassie nodded. “And very well, too. But we’re talking about your personal life. You can’t stop living. There’s a man somewhere—maybe the man you just brushed off—who won’t give a damn about your face. Listen to me. You can’t avoid having Brett see you, not forever. And why should you? He isn’t Derek.”
Derek hadn’t been the only one who’d reacted badly to her less-than-perfect face, but she hadn’t told anyone, not even Cassie, about the others. And she didn’t intend to.
Cassie slammed her hand on the coffee table. “Dammit, give the guy a chance.”
A chance to hurt her? “I can’t. I told you, he has expectations.”
“How do you know that?” Cassie countered. “Does he walk around with a sign tattooed on his forehead that reads, I Have Expectations?”
Elyssa grinned at the image, then sobered. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s—”
They both started as the doorbell rang. “I’m not expecting anyone,” Elyssa said, frowning.
“Sit. I’ll get it,” Cassie said. She opened the door and poked her head out, exchanged a few words with someone, then turned, holding out a flower arrangement.
Two white orchids.
“What in the world? The deliveryman