Watching Michael work was possibly one of the most amazing experiences Christine had ever had. She'd never seen a body move the way his did and had to admit that it was a sort of odd turn on to watch him dance. But she tried to keep her thoughts focused.

She had work to do, after all.

Christine watched him closely, watched every move and cringed at a couple that looked as though they would hurt very badly. She also listened. Now, as mentioned before, she hadn't heard the full capacity of Michael's voice and several songs made her tear up. Though, she'd never admit that. He had the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard, there was no doubt of that in her mind and when he performed Thriller, she couldn't stop herself from grinning and singing along.

She met with his manager, whom she decided she wasn't entirely fond of, and the director of his show, who seemed decent enough at first but had a very arrogant tone to his voice. She didn'tspeak with them long, making an excuse to go speak with other members of the show. She was careful, however, to make sure she could see her performer at all times.

"So, you're his girlfriend?" Asked the drummer, bobbing his head in time to Smooth Criminal. Christine raised her eyebrows and she flustered.

"What? I-Er…His-you mean to say-?" He laughed at her blushing face and shrugged.

"Hey, either you're sleeping with the man or not. I really didn't think he had it in him, but judging by the way he looks at you…" The man's eyes traveled slowly over her body, assessing, admiring. It took a lot of control for Christine to keep from shielding her body from his eyes.

"I really don't think that's any of your business." Christine told him, her crisp tones smacking him about the head. He shrugged and laughed again to himself.

"I'm just paying you a compliment, baby girl. Whether you take it that way or not. Either way, Mike's a lucky guy to have you around. I wouldn't mind it myself. You're hot…for a white girl." She huffed in protest and spun away in a cloud of horrid, yellow hair. The nerve of him! She could hardly believe how he'd spoken to her. But his words stuck in her mind, regardless.

Was it really that obvious that they'd slept together? It was only once, it couldn't make that big of a difference.

Could it?

Christine ventured a look up toward the stage. Blue eyes met deep brown ones and she looked away quickly, flipping open the notebook she'd brought along and began taking notes on whatever she could. Just so long as she didn't look at him too often.

Could it really be that obvious?

"And that's a rap for today!" Christine stood up from where she'd been seated for the past three hours and stretched her arms, feeling it all the way down to her hips. Although she did very little, she was exhausted. She expected it was from all of the energy everyone put out. As she stretched, she had the strangest feeling that someone was very close to her and snatched her arms back down just as Michael made to jab her in the ribs. She shot a glare at him and he firmly grasped her hand.

"That was incredible." She confided and grinned up at him. He blushed and shook his head. "And you really look like you're having fun up there."

"I do have fun up there." He agreed and then yawned. "I'm knackered, though. What time is it?" Christine yawned with him, damn contagious things, and checked her watch.

"It's a little after 9:30." Damn. Michael had planned to talk to Paris when they got home but he'd worked too late. She'd already be asleep by now. It would have to wait until the morning before they left for rehearsals again. Only two more days and they'd have another three off. He couldn't believe he'd only been there for a day.

Time flies when you're having fun. Bull… Michael thought with a small shake of his head as he laced an arm around Christine's waist. The drummer in his band, a very attractive black man with a dazzling smile walked by and winked at her. He looked down and saw her roll her eyes and set her jaw in irritation and he made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Christine pressed a hand to her abdomen while the other controlled her Prius. A sudden wave of nausea and a slight cramp settled itself there. She thought nothing of it and when it passed, she acted as though nothing had happened. Michael, however, fixed her with a worried gaze and reached over to touch her shoulder.

"Christine? What is it? What's wrong?" She turned confused eyes to his for only a moment before shaking her head and shrugging. He didn't believe her for an instant. "Pull over." He said firmly and received the same confused expression. But she kept driving.

"What are you-?"

"Christine, pull the car over." She did as she was told, mouth agape and still protesting under her breath. Once the car was stopped, her cupped her face in one hand and let the other drift to her belly.

"What did you feel?" She rolled her eyes and he huffed in frustration.

"Don't you think you're being just a little bit dramatic? I haven't eaten today, that's all." He glared her down. She never thought she would actually see him glare at her, but there he was setting his irritation and worry and frustration in one expression. Something clicked and she shook her head vigorously, waving her hands in front of her.

"I know what you're thinking, Michael, and that's not the case." He continued to stare her down and she leveled him with her own black glare. She was very good at glaring.

"How do you know, Christine?" He asked her. She rolled her eyes and started the car back up. He stopped her with a cool hand against her fingers and she turned warily back to face him.

"I know what it feels like to be pregnant." She stated baldly. "This is not it."