Michael’s dark, straight brows went up at that statement. “I could hardly forget you,” he said simply.
She wished that she could say that she had forgotten him, but, of course, it would be too rude, as well as untrue. How could she forget him, when everyday she found herself looking into that same face when she gazed at her daughter?
“Of course not,” Danny agreed, grinning. “Who could forget a woman who looks like you, Isabelle?”
Isabelle gave him a perfunctory smile. “Thank you, Danny. Let’s just hope the viewers don’t.”
Behind Michael, Carol Nieman, laughed. “Hardly likely. You’re everyone’s favorite villainess, and you know it.” She cast a roguish glance at Michael. “Isabelle’s our resident man-eater, you see—Jessica Randall.”
Michael nodded. “I know.”
“Yes, of course. She’s devouring your character’s brother at the moment.”
Michael smiled at Isabelle slightly and released her hand. She hadn’t realized that he had continued to hold it until that moment; her hand was a little empty and cold now.
“I look forward to working with you.”
“Oh, I doubt we’ll have many scenes together,” Isabelle replied breezily, turning and walking away from Michael without waiting to see his expression.
She strode through the increasing crowd on the set, smiling and nodding at people, trying to look calm and unconcerned, as if she were just strolling back to her dressing room. As if she were not running away.
* * *
Isabelle closed the door of her dressing room behind her and collapsed heavily into the chair in front of her mirror. She leaned her elbows upon the vanity and rested her head on her hands.
How could this have happened? It seemed the most appalling trick of fate. She had long ago dismissed the fear that she might meet Michael again. Why, it had been years since she had even thought about him—at least in any more than a brief, passing way. And now, to have him turn up, here on her set....
For a moment she panicked and thought of running, of packing up and taking Jenny and moving away. Then she drew a long breath and forced herself to calm down. That was ridiculous; she couldn’t overturn her life and run simply because an old boyfriend had appeared. And that’s all he was, she reminded herself: an old boyfriend. Someone who had once, for a brief summer, had a place in her life and who no longer did.
It was not a disaster. Other women had old lovers re-appear in their lives; why, here among the relatively small acting world of L.A., some women had to face their ex’s all the time, even right after they had split up. At least she had had ten years for the wounds to heal before she had to face Michael again.
Isabelle raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t like what she saw: the frown line between her eyes, the vulnerable mouth, the anxiety looming in her eyes. She looked like a victim, she thought, and she was determined never to be that, never to think of herself that way. Those horrible, pain-filled two years after Michael left her were a thing of the past; she was not the frightened, lonely girl she had been then. She had taken control of her life; she had gone after what she wanted; she had taken care of herself and of Jenny—so well, in fact, that most people would be envious of her life now.
She ought to thank Michael for what he had done, really; it had enabled her to be the person she was now. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever have had the strength or the nerve to have packed up and come to L.A., to pit herself against the terrible odds of becoming a successful actress, if Michael had not left her. The odds were, she knew, that she would not have done what she did, that she would have become merely an appendage of him.
And she was not going to sink back into being a frightened young woman simply because he had shown up again. Isabelle drew another deep breath, willing her face into lines of tranquility, forcing the fear from her eyes, firming her mouth. There, that was better.
Isabelle turned from the mirror and settled down to consider her situation. She did not like the idea of being on the same show with Michael. But there was little hope of his leaving anytime soon, not after Danny had just hired him—and with such obvious pride. Danny considered getting Michael away from “Eden Crossing” a tremendous coup; she could tell by the way he was crowing about him. “Eden” was, after all, the most successful daytime soap, whereas “All Our Tomorrows” had been the perennial runner-up, ;ns1 in its time slot, but ;ns2 overall to “Eden.” Everyone knew that that fact chafed Danny; no doubt he was hopeful that with the added attraction of Michael Traynor, their show would overtake “Eden” in the ratings. Indeed, he was probably right. Whatever Isabelle might feel about Michael Traynor, he was one of the most popular actors on daytime television, and his presence might be just the impetus they needed to push “Tomorrows” over the top.
If anyone left, if would have to be her, and Isabelle knew that she did not want to go. The show had made her very popular, and she enjoyed playing her character. Besides, the money was good, and though she could in all likelihood get a part that paid as well on another soap, she could not be absolutely sure. And with a child like Jenny, financial security was very important. Jenny would always have to have someone to look after her to some extent. That was why Isabelle kept salting away a big hunk of her salary into Jenny’s trust fund every year.
Nor was it only the security of money that Jenny required. She needed to stay in the same house with the same housekeeper to pick her up from school each day, and her mother to spend regular time with her. Isabelle could not take a job on one of the soaps shooting in New York nor could she be in a movie that spent months shooting on location. Even a nighttime series required more time away from home than Isabelle wanted to spend. That was why the “Tomorrows” role was so perfect. “Tomorrows” was probably the best organized, best-run production in town; shooting was scheduled so that one’s scenes were all together on certain days, with the result that even the most popular actors, such as Isabelle, worked only three or four days a week. It wasn’t like other shows she had been in where she might have to be at the set all day only to shoot a scene or two. Isabelle was often able to be home with Jenny two afternoons a week after school, as well as on the weekends.
Besides, she enjoyed her role on “Tomorrows.” She liked the cast and crew, and the writers and directors were good. All in all, she did not want to give up her part on it.
And there was no reason why she should, Isabelle told herself firmly. She would be acting like a schoolgirl if she left the show simply to get away from Michael Traynor. After all, what could happen? It wasn’t as if she were in danger of being hurt by him again. No, she had learned her lesson the first time. She had gotten over him long ago, and she intended to stay that way. And she was old enough and wise enough now that he could not charm her into loving him against her better wishes.
Moreover, she doubted that he would try. Why should Michael be interested in her? She was only a girl he had had a brief fling with one summer; she obviously had not meant much to him, given how easily he had left her. If he were, by some chance, attracted to her again, all she had to do was let him know that she was not interested, and he would drop the matter. It wasn’t as if he had seduced or forced her the first time; she had fallen willingly into his arms. Michael had never pushed her; she had to give him that. He could get any number of women he wanted, after all; he didn’t have to pursue or push.
Surely she was adult enough to handle having to see him around the set, Isabelle told herself, even to play a scene with him now or then. It was unlikely that they would be together in many scenes. Her character, the wicked Jessica, had her hooks in Mark Townsend, the brother of the character Michael would play. And obviously, from his having auditioned with Lena, the writers intended to kindle a romance between Lena’s character, Abby, and his.
It would be relatively easy to avoid him. When she did have to be around Michael, she could manage to be coolly polite. Seeing him had hit her