Dance to the Piper (15 page)

Chantel rested her cheek against her sister's. Things should be as simple, she thought, things should be as easy as they were at this moment. "No, we're three in a million. And I'm so glad to have you."

When Maddy came home from rehearsal on Saturday, the apartment was empty. She'd had almost three days with Chantel. During the brief visit her sister had charmed the surly Guido, awed the production staff of the play with a brief visit during rehearsal and bought out half the stores on Fifth Avenue.

Maddy missed her already.

If Chantel had been able to stay just one more day…

Sighing, Maddy headed for the shower. It was silly to think she needed moral support just to go talk to Reed. She didn't need a pep talk or a vote of confidence. She was simply going to talk to the man about the meaning of their relationship and where it was going.

Maddy turned on the shower and stood, face into the spray, as the water poured over her. She was going to wash, change, then catch the subway uptown. It wasn't as though it were the first time she would have spent an evening in Reed's apartment. Besides, they needed to talk. There was no use being nervous about something that had to be done.

The play was going well. She could tell him that. She could start things off by telling him how right it was beginning to feel. Everything was coming together. When they left the following week for the last days of intense rehearsal in Philadelphia, it was only going to get better. Would be miss her at all? Would he tell her?

Lecturing herself, Maddy stepped out of the shower and immediately searched through the rubble of her linen closet for her hair drier. Within minutes she'd fluffed her hair dry, teased a bit of height on the top and ruffled the sides to give more volume. She pulled out a pile of makeup and began to experiment with an expert hand.

More than once she'd done her own hair and makeup for the stage. She'd learned early that if she didn't want to be dependent on someone else's time and whims, she had to know how to do for herself. She could, if necessary, have chosen the right paints and pots to turn her into Mary, or Suzanna, or any other part she'd ever played. Tonight she was just Maddy.

Satisfied, she headed into the bedroom. There, spread on the bed, was what Chantel had left behind. Maddy picked up the note first and read the bold, looping writing.

Maddy,

After an exhaustive search and hard thinking, I decided this was for you. Happy birthday next month. Wear it tonight for your Reed. Better yet, wear it for yourself. Forget the first reaction that the color isn't right for you. Trust me. I'll be thinking of you. You know I love you, kid. Break a leg.

Chantel

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Maddy looked at Chanters gift. The slinky silk slacks were a bold, flaming pink. Exactly the sort of color Maddy would avoid with her hair. She gave them a dubious look but reached down to touch. The skinny little camisole top was jade-colored. Together they were precisely the sort of outrageous combination she would have chosen herself. Maddy smiled as she picked the top up by the slender straps. But it was the jacket that she, who chose clothes with a careless eye for color and comfort, cooed over.

It was silk, as well, a bit oversize and as slinky as the slacks. Thousands of beads were sewed on it, creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Each way she turned it, a different pattern emerged. At first glance she would have said it was too sophisticated for her taste, too elegant for her style, but the ever-changing patterns caught both her imagination and her admiration.

"All right," she said aloud. "We're going to go for it."

Why was he nervous? Reed paced his too-quiet apartment for the tenth time. It was ridiculous to feel nervous just because he was going to entertain a woman for the evening. Even if the woman was Maddy. Especially because the woman was Maddy, he corrected.

They'd spent evenings together before. But tonight was different. He switched on the stereo, hoping the flow of music would distract him.

He'd purposely avoided contacting her all week to prove to himself he could live without her. Somewhere around Thursday, he had stopped counting the times he'd picked up the phone and dialed the first few digits of her number, only to hang up.

They were just going to talk, be reminded himself. It was becoming imperative that they outline what they wanted from each other, what the rules were, where the boundaries began. He wanted to make love with her.

Needed to make love with her, he corrected, and a curl of desire began with just the thought.

They could be lovers and still keep things companionable. That's what they had to get straight before any more time passed. When she came, they would sit down and talk about their needs and their restrictions like reasonable adults. They would come to a logical understanding and go on from there. No one would be hurt.

He was going to hurt her. Reed ran a hand over the back of his neck and wondered why he was so certain of that. He could still remember the way her eyes had filled the last time he'd seen her. How she'd somehow looked both wounded and courageous.

How many times had he told himself he would use tonight to break it off, to sever it all before it went any farther? How many times had he ultimately admitted it wouldn't be possible?

She was getting under his skin, and he couldn't allow that. The best way, the only way, he knew to stop it was to set down the rules.

He paced again, to the windows and back before looking at his watch. She was late. She was driving him crazy.

What was it about her? he asked himself. She wasn't particularly beautiful. She wasn't smooth and sleek and alluringly cool. In short, she wasn't the sort of woman who caught his notice. She was the woman who'd caught him by the throat. He had to loosen her hold, gain control, go forward at his own pace.

Where the hell was she?

When the knock sounded, he was cursing her. Reed gave himself a moment to settle. It wouldn't do to open the door edgy and eager. If he started on solid ground, he'd stay on solid ground. Then he opened the door, and every logical thought deserted him.

Had he said she wasn't really beautiful? How could he have been so totally wrong? He's said she wasn't alluring, yet she stood there, glittering, glowing, simmering with her own source of energy, and he'd never been more captivated.

"Hi. How are you?" He couldn't tell her heart was thudding uneasily as she smiled and kissed his cheek.

"I'm fine." That was the scent he'd carried with him for days. It was absurd for a man to linger on something that could be bought at a department-store cosmetics counter.

Maddy hesitated a moment. "You did say you wanted to see me Saturday night, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, are you going to let me in?"

The humor in her eyes made him feel like a fool. "Of course. Sorry." He closed the door behind her and wondered if he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life. And hers. "You look wonderful. Different."

"You think so?" Smiling again, she
pirouetted.
"My sister breezed into town for a couple of days and picked this out for me." She turned again, wanting to share her pleasure. "Great, isn't it?"

"Yes. You're beautiful."

It was easy to pass it off with a laugh. "Well, the outfit certainly is. You haven't been by rehearsals."

"No." Because he'd needed to give himself time away from her. "Would you like a drink?"

"A little white wine, maybe." She crossed, as she invariably did, to his view of the city. "It's really coming together, Reed. Everything's starting to click."

"The accounting department will be glad to hear it."

It was his dry tone that made her laugh. "How can you lose? If we hit, you rake it in. If we flop, you write it off as a tax break. But it's alive, Reed." She took the glass from him, needing him to fed it with her. "Every time I walk out into a scene as Mary, it becomes more alive. I need that sort of vibrant, breathing center to my life."

A center to her life. He'd always scrupulously avoided having one in his own. "And a play does that for you?"

She looked down at her wine, then out at the city again. "If I were alone, with nothing more, without a chance for anything more, I could be happy. When I'm onstage… When I'm onstage," she began again, "and I look out and see a theater full of people, waiting for me… Reed, I don't know how to explain it."

"Try" He stood watching her, watching the city lights glow behind her. "I want to know."

She pulled a hand through the hair she'd so carefully styled. It tell back into place, just a little mussed. "I feel instant acceptance. I guess I feel loved. And I can give the love back, with a dance, with a song. It sounds hokey to say that's what I was born for. But it was. It just was."

"It would be enough if you could stand on stage and be loved by hundreds of strangers?"

She gave him a long, searching look, knowing he didn't understand. No one who didn't perform could.

"It would be enough, would have to be enough, if that were all I could have."

"You don't need one single permanent person or thing in your life."

"I didn't say that." She kept her eyes on his as she shook her head slowly. "I meant that I've always been able to adjust. I've had to. Applause fills a lot of gaps, Reed. All of them, if you work hard at it. I imagine your work does the same for you."

"It does. I told you before I don't have the time or the inclination for a long-term relationship."

"Yes, you did."

"I meant it, Maddy." He drank again, because the words didn't come comfortably through his lips. Why, when he was trying so hard to be honest, did it feel as though he were lying? "We tried it your way. The friendship."

Her fingers were cold. She set her glass down and linked them together to warm them. "I think it worked."

"I want more." He ran his hand through her hair and brought her closer. "And if I take more, I'm going to hurt you."

That was the truth. She knew it, accepted it, then told herself to forget it. "I'm responsible for myself, Reed. That includes my emotions. I want more, too. Whatever happens, the choice was mine."

"What choice?" he demanded suddenly. "What choice, Maddy? Isn't it time to admit neither of us has had one all along? I wanted to push you aside. That was my choice. But I kept drawing you closer and closer." He had his hands on her shoulders now and slowly slid the jacket from them. It fell to the floor in a waterfall of color. "You don't know me," he murmured as he felt the quick tremble that moved through her body. "You don't know what's inside me. There's a lot there you wouldn't like, more you wouldn't even understand. If you were smart, you'd be out that door now."

"Guess I'm not smart."

"It wouldn't matter." His fingers tensed on her shoulders. "Because I'm past the point of letting you go." Her skin was warm, so warm and soft in his hands. "You'll hate me before it's finished." And he already regretted it.

"I don't hate easily. Reed…" Wanting to soothe, she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Trust me a little."

"Trust has nothing to do with this." Something flared in his eyes, quickly, vibrantly, then was gone. "Not a damn thing. I want you, and that hunger's been clawing inside me for weeks. That's all I have for you."

The hurt came, as promised, but she pushed it aside. "If that were true, I don't think you would have been fighting it so hard."

"I've finished fighting it." His lips descended upon hers. "You'll stay with me tonight."

"Yes, I'll stay." She put both hands to his face, wanting to ease the tension in him. "Because it's what I want."

He took her wrists, then slowly slid her hand through his until he could press his lips to her palm. It was a promise, the only one he could give her. "Come with me."

Leading with her heart, Maddy went.

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There was a lamp in the hall that sent a shaft of light into the bedroom. Otherwise all was shadows and secrets. He'd left the stereo on, but it was hardly more than an echo of a sound now as they stopped to touch each other.

She'd wanted to see his eyes like this, intensely focused only on her and what he wanted from her. It made her smile as she yielded her lips to his again.

"You're making a mistake," he began.

"Shhh." She moved her lips over his. "Let's be logical later. I've wanted to know what it would be like with you from the moment I met you." Watching his face, she began to unbutton his shirt. "I've wanted to know what you looked like. What you felt like." She drew his shirt off, then ran her hands up his chest. It was hard, smooth and, at the moment, stiff. "I'd lie awake at night wondering when we'd be together like this." Seeking, curious, her hands stroked his shoulders, then moved slowly down his arms. "Reed, I'm not afraid of you, or of how I feel."

"You should be."

Her head tilted back. Her eyes challenged. "Then show me why."

With an oath he gave in to her, to himself, to everything. Dragging her against him, he crushed her mouth beneath his and plundered. He ran his hands all over the thin silk that covered her, until her body began to shiver. Was it fear or anticipation? He couldn't tell. But her fingers dug into his flesh, holding him close, and her mouth was open and eager.