He let his fingers linger, trailing the pads of his fingers along the delicate whorls of her ear. He smiled crookedly at the feel of her skin and tilted his head to better see. With her eyes burning on his face, he wondered where he'd found the daring to touch her like this. He brought his attention back to her face and noticed her eyes glinting with a pearly sheen in the dim lighting. Her lips parted with a sigh, letting her dainty fangs glint in the light, her eyelids drifting low. He discovered that he rather liked that look: sultry and sweet, with a spicy touch of danger perceived thrown in.Elaina lowered her foot and brought her hands out from behind her back, gliding closer to Robby. For a brief moment, he felt her breath against the fabric of his shirt. She lifted her face, her sultry gaze easing his fears, and, for a heartbeat, he felt like he was standing on the deck of a ship, feeling the tides roll and change. In that moment, he heard the immortal words of Captain Jack. It wasn't great—Rance in Girl of the Golden West, one of Puccini's more forgettable ventures with one of his more forgettable baritone roles, and, interestingly, Enrico in Lucia, the role I'd started with so many years ago in college. Not plums, but I'd be doing bona fide leads in one of the biggest venues in the world; and, better yet, the dates largely overlapped with Camilla's Met commitment.So we took our four days in my cabin and made the most of them. We had to fend off reporters in droves; with Sam and Marilyn driving, and with Camilla's famous photo as fuel, our incarceration had stayed well up in the news, and when the media learned we'd been released the phone calls started coming. A carload of enterprising reporters actually found their way to my cabin one afternoon. We were polite, we were pleasant, and we were boring. They'd thought we'd heard or seen something, it turned out we hadn't, they finally realized their mistake and let us go. What was it we'd supposedly.
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