Wyne and Song by Donna Michaels

she’d been too young, too blind, soaking up his attention, eager to drop plans to be with him…including a rehearsal. A week later, the actor dumped her for a bigger fish who “fit into his lifestyle better.” After some major sweet-talking and damage control, her agent managed to convince the director not to recast her part.
    Lesson learned.
    Performing was her first love. Stepping on stage made her heart pound. Hearing the audience laugh, cry, applaud filled her with joy. Receiving flowers and letters expressing how she touched someone’s heart, touched her own. And she could always count on the rush of adrenaline when the curtain lifted opening night, although, lately, the whooshing through her ears hadn’t been as strong. A change in scenery, venue, and production would increase the whooshing. She hoped.
    Ethan had been a good whoosher , her mind whispered.
    A smile tugged her lips. True. The man certainly knew how to make her heart pound and blood pump. He was good at it, and he was a good man. His love for his son, and desire to keep the boy first and foremost in his life was sweet and endearing, and she respected the hell out of him. Ethan Wyne was a true father, unlike hers who had been nothing but a sperm donor.
    “Lady! Look out!”
    The shout of a child startled Phoebe out of her thoughts. She turned toward the commotion in time to see a white blur flying through the air at her at mach speed. That missing adrenaline appeared with a vengeance as she reacted automatically, before hitting the ground.
    “You killed her, Johnny.”
    “No I didn’t.”
    “You’re gonna go to jail.”
    The voices of two little boys and one girl registered in her brain as she rolled on the ground and continued right to her feet, then faced the approaching children. With the ball in her hand.
    “She caught it! Did you see that, Johnny?” A cute, dark-haired little boy rushed toward her, brown eyes as big as saucers.
    “Yeah.” The other boy nodded, stopping in front of her. “Told you I didn’t kill her. She’s a ninja. You can’t kill ninjas.”
    A pretty little girl caught up to them and shook her head, blonde ponytails swinging back and forth. “No, she’s not. She’s a Jedi.”
    The boy with the brown eyes gazed up at her. “Are you, lady?”
    “Yeah. Are you a Jedi or a ninja?” Johnny asked.
    She crouched down to look the children in the eyes. “Neither, I’m afraid.”
    Two warm, and slightly sticky hands grabbed her face, while the little, dark-haired boy brought his melt-your-heart chocolate gaze close. “Then how did you catch the ball so fast and not get hitted?”
    Oh, he had some serious cuteness going on.
    Keeping her smile in check, she winked. “Lots of practice and training.”
    “Then you are a ninja.” Johnny stepped close to take the ball from her. “They practice and train.”
    Nodding, the little boy released her face. “Yeah. Maybe she’s a ninja on a secret mission and can’t say anything.”
    “I’m not—”
    “Are you okay, Miss?” An older gentleman drew near, silver sprinkled in the dark brow furrowed with concern in his handsome face.
    She nodded as she stood, unwilling to let the children get in trouble over her. “Yes. Just fine.”
    “She didn’t get hitted, Grandpa,” the brown-eyed boy stated, stepping forward. “She caught the ball like a ninja.”
    “Or Jedi,” the little girl chimed in.
    She laughed. “I wish. Jedi’s are cool.”
    Being cast in one of those movies would rock.
    “You sure you’re not hurt?” With his strong jaw, salt-n-pepper hair, and keen gaze, the mature man wore handsome like his confidence, with a distinguished ease. “That was some catch,” he said, grin tugging his mouth, softening his no-nonsense expression.
    She gathered he was the kids’ designated babysitter, no doubt while their mothers were taking advantage of one of the resort’s many amenities, like the spa.
    A place she definitely planned to visit again.
    “Yes,