HER mind was beginning to spin like a roundabout. If Nesbo had ever had any romantic feelings for her he would have shown it. He was a strong, determined man. If he wanted something he would go for it. He was no shy schoolboy. Max was wrong. There must be something else.
When they arrived at the theatre, things were beginning to stir backstage. Max stood with Delia for a moment by her dressing-room door.
“Thank you for a lovely day, Max. It was great fun.”
He stepped close to her. His hands rested on her waist, then he pulled her to him.
“I hope there’ll be many more days,” he murmured as he bent and kissed her. “May I see you after the show?”
“Yes,” she said.
He left her then to go to his own dressing-room. Delia turned to open the door to hers and as she turned she saw Nesbo.
He was standing at the end of the corridor, just looking at her. Had he seen? What if he had? The thought disturbed her. She quickly went in.
About 10 minutes later there was a sharp knock on her door. She opened it. It was Nesbo.
“A word, Delia,” he said.
“Of course. Come in.” She smiled brightly at him. “You look worried. You’re not worried about the new illusion, are you? I promise I’ve not ”
“I’m worried about you.” His face was set, frowning.
“About me? Why on earth are you worried about me?”
“Because there’s no fool like an old fool.”
“What!” She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “How dare you!” She gasped.
“No!” Nesbo waved his hand. “I don’t mean you’re old. I mean you are old enough to know better. You’re not the first woman to have her head turned by a good-looking man and a silver tongue. Is this Max Reynolds genuine?” His voice was low but intense. “I’m not happy about him.”
“Really!” Delia could hardly believe what she was hearing. “And what are you, Nesbo? My father?”
He looked at her with his dark eyes for a moment, then dropped his glance and looked away.
“I’m your friend.”
“A friend would want to see me happy,” she pleaded.
“I do,” he said quietly. He turned to go.
Delia said, “I’m happy when I’m with Max. He’s a good man.”
Nesbo looked back at her.
“I hope so. I’ve told him that if he hurts you he’ll answer to me.”
“What?” Delia’s face was suffused with anger. “How dare you?” She was shouting. She pushed past Nesbo and opened the door. “Get out!”
He left. She slammed the door shut, slumped down on a chair and began to cry.