"...and now, let's give a big 'Spats' welcome to our very own--Sabrina Blue!" Sabrina stood in the wings as the final pre-show flutter of butterflies sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through her curvaceous body. As she stepped on stage the applause washed over her like a warm hug.

She picked up the mike and looked out at the packed house. The low-ceilinged room was dark and filled with a haze of smoke. Physical distinctions were blurred behind the stage lights, the sensation like looking out at a dreamscape. As voices quieted in anticipation, other sounds became clear; the clink of ice against glass, a throat being cleared, the scrape of a chair, a scolding hush, the whisper of nylon near the stage as a pair of legs crossed. Sabrina bided her time waiting for that magical moment when the sense of expectancy was its most potent. There! She smiled and signaled the band. A sigh of pleasure rose from the audience. This was what they came for.

It was always like this on the nights she sang at the little blues club. In the five years she'd been performing at Spats she'd developed a loyal following. It could be said that Sabrina Blue was a minor celebrity in the tight musical circle in which she worked.

She hadn't always been a singer. Up until that fateful decision almost five years ago, she had been an ordinary housewife and mother with a dream, a dream she thought would never be realized. Yet here she was, waiting for the opening bars of tonight's first number, an eager group of patrons waiting to hear her sing.

"...Night and day, you are the one..." Her rich contralto filled the room. At five feet eight inches, with waist length black hair and startling blue eyes, she would have been considered unusual by any beauty standards. But added to this was the fact that she tipped the scales at two hundred and fifty pounds. This was no willowy sylph-like creature. This was pure woman, earthy, sensual, a real presence.

Sabrina stood tall and straight, her figure a pleasing balance of top to bottom. High shapely breasts and full rounded hips clad in her signature sapphire blue had caused more than one male customer to think licentious thoughts. Her hair was loose, hanging down her back in large soft curls. The fringe of hair hiding her forehead made her eyes seem all the more startling in their intensity, not that the audience could see her eyes once she started to sing. For when Sabrina sang her eyes were closed and she was lost in her own world.

This had always been her escape. She could close her eyes and sing songs about troubles of the heart and soul that were written by some tortured songwriter. She'd had her own share of troubles, but for these moments on stage, those troubles were far away.

Guy Latimer sat in the dark of the club, stunned by the sheer brilliance of the performance he was witnessing. Sabrina Blue was a genius! And he should know. He had made his reputation on knowing genius when he saw it.

His ability had first manifested itself with his discovery of the alternative rock band, Razor Sharp. They became an overnight sensation hitting almost instant gold and setting the trend in music for the next three years. Guy became known as the producer with the Midas touch. His next find had been Angelique Sand, a sexy young African-American woman with a voice like smooth dark chocolate. She was still sitting at the top of the charts and just signed a major movie deal. The future was Guy's.

Guy's production company, King Midas Inc., was now the biggest in the country. At 38, he had everything he had ever wanted in life. He was rich, successful, popular and in demand. If he perhaps felt a little lonely from time to time, he ignored it. He had married once and that was enough. He'd discovered that women craved his money and his fame, not him. His divorce had been an expensive lesson, as had his experience with tabloid journalists.

He turned his thoughts back to the singer on stage. Sabrina Blue. Catchy name, It would market well. He let himself get swept up in her voice again.

"...lover man, oh where can you be..."

She closed her eyes when she sang and held the mike close in both hands, almost caressing the metal. Her hair was a glorious black waterfall down her back and across her shoulders. It was so long. She must almost sit on it. Her lips were full and sensuous. Kissable lips. The beaded batwing dress that fell to the floor and was slit on one side to mid-thigh showed an enticing expanse of leg. The keyhole neckline teased with its seductive show of cleavage.

Guy shook his head. What was he doing fantasizing about a singer who was nowhere near his type? He liked tall, slim, leggy blondes. Sabrina Blue was tall, sure. But she was so big, so curvaceous. Granted, she was well proportioned, not unlike Marilyn Monroe had been, and elegant. Yes, elegant and majestic. There was grace in the way she swayed sensually to the music. Her skin looked so soft and smooth. It was pale contrasted against her dark hair. It would probably feel like silk.

Guy Latimer, you're losing it! He endeavored to focus on the magical singing but kept being pulled back to the singer. What was it about her that was so compelling?

At last her set was finished and Guy moved purposefully to where she sat with a group of enthusiastic fans. He told himself it was a purely business move--the need to sign her before a competitor did. But a disturbing thought haunted him that perhaps another kind of need was at work.

"Excuse me, Miss Blue," Guy started and then was struck dumb as a large pair of brilliant sparkling blue eyes looked up at him.

"Yes?" Her speaking voice was as deeply modulated and full as her singing voice. She was looking at him with curiosity. He felt like a schoolboy, awkward and foolish.

"My name is Guy Latimer," he said at last, handing her his card. "I wonder if I might have few moments of your time. Could I perhaps buy you a drink?"

"Well, Mr. Latimer," she said, glancing at his card. "I don't drink, but I'd love a cup of coffee." For some reason he felt as if she had just given him a gift. They moved over to his table.

"I enjoyed your show very much, Miss Blue," he began.

"Sabrina, please, Mr. Latimer," she said.

"Of course," he said, suddenly choking on his words as he basked in her warm smile. "And you must call me Guy."

"How can I help you, Guy?" she asked. His name sounded so nice coming from her lips?

"I'm a producer, a music producer." He was stumbling over his words like a fourteen-year-old. "Perhaps you've heard of Angelique Sand? I discovered her." Why was he trying to impress her?

"I see," she said. Did she?

"I have a proposition for you," he said.

"Oh?" Ice seemed to frost her speech. "Just exactly what kind of proposition?"

Guy reddened. "Oh, no, what I meant was I was very impressed with your performance this evening and wanted to talk to you about the possibility of recording with you."

Sabrina sat very still and Guy thought that perhaps she didn't understand what he was offering.

"That's very kind of you," she said finally. But her voice was tight, her words clipped. "But I'm afraid I'm not interested in a recording career. I'm very happy with what I do. Now, if you'll excuse me," she pushed back her chair and stood, offering her hand in farewell. "I really must get back to work. Enjoy the rest of the show. Good-bye Mr. Latimer ... er ... Guy." With that she was gone.

For the second time that night, Guy was stunned. She'd turned him down. He'd laid a recording contract at her feet and she'd ... Of all the ... Anger filled him at her summary rejection. She had treated him as if he had been nobody. Who did she think she was? Fueled by pique, he chased after her, catching her at the foot of the steps leading to the small stage.

"Just one minute," he said, taking hold of her arm to stop her. With cool regard, she glanced at the hand on her arm. Embarrassed suddenly, he let her go.

"Yes, Mr. Latimer?" she said in quiet tones.

Guy was uncertain now. Damn, but she made him feel stupid! Anger welled again.

"Why did you run off like that?" he said. "You didn't even listen to what I had to offer."

"Of course I did," Sabrina said. "You offered a recording deal. I declined. Is there something more?"

He felt color fill his face. Why was this so difficult? He had wheeled and dealed for years and never felt so unsure of himself as he did facing Sabrina Blue.

"Could you at least help me understand why you would reject an opportunity that most people would jump at with gratitude?"

"I feel no need to explain my decision to you," Sabrina said, her chin raised indignantly. Only a slight wobble in her voice betrayed an underlying nervousness. "If I choose not to pursue that option in my career, it is my choice, and neither you nor anyone else have the right to question it. Last time I checked, it was a free country!"

"Is everything all right, honey?"

Guy watched as Sabrina threw a grateful look at the intruder. He was a natty little man in a flashy suit and he stood close to Sabrina, on guard.

"Yes, Dex," Sabrina said, smiling gratefully at her friend. "I was just getting ready to go back to work." Turning back to Guy, her face again a composed mask of cool indifference, she said, "Nice meeting you Mr. Latimer. Please, enjoy the show." With a last look at Dex she was gone. Guy could only watch her exit in disbelief.

"So what was that all about?" the natty man said, suspicion in his voice and on his face.

"Who are you?" Guy asked rudely. He was still stung by Sabrina's dismissal. He was used to gratitude and joy from aspiring musicians, not dismissal.

"Dex Randall, owner and manager of this here establishment," Dex said, puffing up with pride. A frown appeared on his face. "I'm also Sabrina's friend and don't like to see her bothered."

"I wasn't intending to bother her," Guy said by way of explanation. "I'm Guy Latimer."

"The record producer?" Dex thrust his hand out. "Why didn't you say so?"

Guy smiled. He just had, hadn't he?

"Let me buy you a drink."

Guy followed Dex to a private table. He took a long gulp of the drink Dex placed in front of him. Sabrina had rattled him and he needed the calming effect of alcohol.

"So what can we do for you, here at 'Spats'?" Dex said, pulling his chair close to Guy's as if they were about to engage in business dealing together.

"I've been hearing rumbles for a few months now about an amazing new singer in town," Guy explained. "You know how it goes. Somebody tells somebody else who tells his or her cousin who has a friend in the mailroom of my office. That sort of thing. The name Sabrina Blue kept crossing my desk. My gut told me that there was something behind the rumbles. I learned a long time ago to listen to my gut. I decided it was time to check out Miss Blue. And she is completely amazing ... astounding even."

"Don't I know it," Dex said.

"So, without hesitation, I am prepared to offer her the chance to record with my King Midas label."

"I'll be damned!" Dex said, sitting back hard in his chair.

"You can say that again," Guy said, frustration tingeing his words. He watched as the subject of their discussion emerged from back stage and talked with the piano player. "She's not the least bit interested. I don't understand why. It's a logical step for her to make in her career and it's being offered to her; she doesn't have to pursue it. Most people would be ecstatic. What's the matter with her?"

"Not a damn thing that I can see." Dex said wistfully, also watching Sabrina prepare for her next set. "She knows her own mind, man. She ain't easily swayed neither."

"Sounds like you have first hand experience," Guy said.

"If Sabrina said no, she means no, okay?" Dex sounded gruff. "You best just let it drop."

"I'm not in the habit of letting golden opportunities pass me by," Guy said firmly. "Miss Blue is the single most exciting singer I have heard in years and I intend to sign her to a contract. It's the best thing for her career."

"Don't you think that's for Sabrina to decide?" Dex said with equal firmness.

"Does she know what she wants?" Guy asked, sourly.

"You can bet on that," Dex said through gritted teeth. "And I suggest that you just leave my friend alone, okay?"

"That sounds like a threat," Guy said, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Take it any way you like," Dex said, standing and shoving his chair hard against the table. "Just leave Sabrina alone!"

Guy watched the flashy little man stride across the bar to the stage. Frustration boiled in him. It was enough that Sabrina had turned him down flat. Now her little pit-bull pal had warned him off. It was laughably melodramatic.

He watched Dex wait to the end of Sabrina's song, then gesture for her attention. She leaned over the edge of the stage and listened solemnly to Dex's tirade. When he finished, she stood slowly and gazed across the room until her eyes met with his. Guy felt the chill of her annoyance pierce through him. Why? Why was she so angry with him when he had offered her the chance of a lifetime? And why was he so angry at her refusal? In disgust, he stood, threw some bills on the table and left Spats.