Charlie's blue eyes lit with eagerness. "It's the best thing I've ever done."
"No fair," Daisy protested. "He won't let me take even a peek at it."
Jason smiled faintly, still staring at the painting. "I can see why." He glanced at Charlie. "Don't let me interrupt you."
"I was only working on the background. I need Daisy to pose to work on the figure." His gaze drifted wistfully back to the painting. "Perhaps when you come back from your walk ..."
"Why not now?" Jason gestured for Daisy to mount the platform. "I'm not up to a mountain trek today. The two of you just go on and do what you'd ordinarily do and I'll wander around the cottage and watch. I've never seen an artist at work."
Charlie frowned doubtfully. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." Jason's smile was surprisingly gentle as he gazed at the older man. "Paint her. She's evidently one hell of an inspiring subject." He turned and headed for the kitchenette. "You don't mind if I make myself at home? I'll make coffee for us while genius burns and then maybe play you some mood music."
"Just as long as it's not heavy metal."
"I'll make the coffee," Daisy said.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. "And waste your father's painting time? We'll have to leave for the theater in a few hours." He went into the kitchenette and began opening cabinets. "Let me make the coffee."
Daisy gazed at him uncertainly. Jason had swept into the cottage, charmed Charlie, and insinuated himself into their household all in the space of a few moments.
"If you'd rather not..." Charlie said hesitantly. "I know it's not what you planned."
"No. it's fine." She mounted the platform and sat down in the chair, her gaze still on Jason moving about in the kitchenette. "I don't mind."
Jason's behavior during the next few hours astonished Daisy. Somehow he managed to cloak that bigger-than-life aura clinging to him and became both appealing and unassuming. He made coffee and served it to them, sat down at the piano and played a few Chopin selections. Then he settled himself cross-legged on the floor before the platform and watched silently as the hours passed. Only when Charlie stopped work did he start a casual conversation that lasted until it was time for her to dress to go to the theater.
"I like him," Charlie whispered to Daisy before she walked out the door. "Bring him back."
"We'll see." She kissed him lightly on the cheek and followed Jason from the cottage to the Mercedes at the curb.
"You're frowning." Jason held the passenger door of the car open for her. "I thought I'd behaved rather well." "I don't like deceiving Charlie." "It was your idea." "I know, but you didn't have to—" "Look." He gazed directly at her. "I like your stepfather. The only phony baloney I handed out back there was the story you wanted me to tell him. The rest was strictly on the up and up." "Really?"
He smiled and nodded. "He reminded me of my first piano teacher. A little gentler, maybe. I don't think he'd hit my knuckles with a ruler if I struck a wrong key." "No, Charlie wouldn't hurt anyone." "And neither would you." His face softened as he resignedly shook his head. "What a pair."
She felt a strange sudden warmth deep inside her as she watched him go around the car and get in the driver's seat. "I don't think you're as cynical as you'd like me to believe."
He shrugged. "Maybe it's infectious. I assure you I'm not like this with anyone else." He started the car and edged away from the curb. "But since you evidently think I'm not completely beyond redemption, perhaps you'll relax the next time I'm in the same room with Charlie. You were on edge the entire time I was there. You told me once you thought I could be trusted. I don't think I've done anything today to change that, have I?"
She gazed at him silently for a moment and again felt that curiously sweet warmth flowering within her. "No," she said softly. "You haven't done anything today to change that."
Three
"This is my favorite place." Daisy sighed contentedly as she sat down on the grass and looked out over snowcapped mountains and then to the village in the valley below. "Isn't the view spectacular?"
"Wait a minute until I stop wheezing and I'll tell you." Jason dropped down beside her and leaned back against the boulder. "You didn't warn me when we started out that I'd have to climb a mountain to get to this view."
"Only a small mountain. It's scarcely more than a hill." She glanced at him anxiously and then relaxed when she saw he wasn't even out of breath. "You're joking?"
He smiled faintly his gaze on her face. "Very perceptive."
"But isn't it worth the climb?" She threw her arm out in an expansive gesture. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Radiant." His stare was still fixed on her face. He shifted his gaze to the valley below. "The view's good too."
She flushed and felt a moment of awkwardness. It was the first time in the past week Jason had said anything that could be termed personal. She had been conscious of the undercurrent of sexuality, but it had been like music played far away that she could catch a chord of only now and then.
"Don't draw away from me." He was still looking at the valley. "I thought we were good enough friends for me not to have to watch every word."
She was being foolish. They were friends. She would never have believed she could become friends with Jason Hayes after their tumultuous start, but somehow it had happened. During the past days she had found him to be amusing and clever with a wry sense of humor that was often directed at himself. He had practically moved into the cottage, and he and Charlie were drawing closer every day. A few evenings he had even driven back to the cottage to spend the evening with her father after he had dropped her off at the theater.
"Sorry." She smiled and relaxed. "I had a flashback to that first night you came backstage. You intimidated me."
"But I don't now?"
She shook her head. "That wasn't really you. Actually, you're very kind."
He raised his brows. "I don't know if I feel flattered or insulted. I rather like being intimidating."
She chuckled. "Well, you blew it."
His smile disappeared and his eyes glinted ice-green as he asked softly, "Is that a challenge?"
She felt a sudden heat, a fluttering along her nerve endings. "No."
"It's still there, you know," he said quietly.
"Just as strong, just as fierce. Except I'm keeping it under wraps for a while." He paused. "Only a warning—between friends."
She was suddenly acutely conscious of the physical presence of the man sitting beside her. The wind lifting Jason's dark hair away from his face, the sunlight on his tanned skin, the way the soft fabric of his faded jeans molded the brawny muscles of his thighs, the power and strength of his hands.
She swallowed and quickly glanced out at the valley again. She sought wildly for a change of subject. "I liked your brother. The two of you aren't very much alike."
He was silent an instant, as if deciding whether or not to accept the sidestep, and finally said, "I know. Eric says I'm a throwback to an Apache great-grandfather," Jason said. "My brother got all the charm and business sense and all I got was a muse whispering in my ear and tormenting the hell out of me."
"But you wouldn't change places?"
"No, my music's everything." For a moment his voice was bitter. "It has to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Just what I said." He changed the subject. "It's no wonder your projection is so good, that your voice completely fills the theater. All this climbing must give you great lungs."
"It helps and the exercise keeps me from getting stressed out." She wrinkled her nose. "Fantine's never been an easy role for me."
"Why not?"
"Because I've been so lucky," she said simply. "Fantine suffered disillusion, desertion by her lover, separation from her child, loss of everything that made life worth living. It's hard for me to identify with her." She picked up a blade of grass and chewed it thoughtfully, "God gave me my voice, and that was a special joy, and then he topped it off by giving me loving parents.
I haven't suffered enough to play Fantine well."
"You lost your mother."
"But Charlie was right there bolstering me, supporting me." She added softly, "Loving me." She gazed absently down into the valley. "Do you know that line from Fantine's song. 'But the tigers came at night?' "
"Yes."
"Well, the tigers have never come to me." She laughed shakily. "Yet." She glanced curiously at him. "Have they come to you, Jason?"
"Oh, yes." He drew up his knees and looped his arms around them. "By night and by day."
"I'm sorry."
He nodded. "I know you are." His gaze lifted to her face. "I wish I could tell you that they will never come to you, but they come to all of us eventually."
"I'm not so naive I don't realize that." She closed her eyes and shivered as she whispered, "Lord, sometimes I get so scared."
He went still. "What's wrong, Daisy?"
For an instant she was desperately tempted to tell him. They had become very close in many ways during these past few days, and sometimes she felt so alone in her waiting that it would have been an enormous comfort to confide in someone. But she couldn't take the easy way. She had promised Charlie, and it might be the last promise he would ever ask of her. Her eves flicked open and she smiled with an effort. "Nothing. I was only telling you why Fantine was difficult for me."
His gaze narrowed on her face. "No, it's more than that."
She scrambled to her feet. "It's time we went back to the cottage. Since I don't have a performance tonight, I promised I'd spend the evening posing for Charlie." She dusted the seat of her jeans and started down the path. "Don't worry, it's much easier going down."
"Why won't you talk to me?"
"I could ask you the same thing." She met his gaze directly. "You never really talk about yourself. The tabloids are right. You're the original mystery man."
His expression became guarded. "There's not much to tell."
"You can't expect confidences if you don't return them."
He smiled crookedly. "And what if I opened my jaded soul to you?"
She hesitated, her gaze on his face. He was one of the most complicated and fascinating men she had ever met, and she suddenly realized she desperately wanted to know what circumstances had molded the man who was Jason Hayes.
But not if it mean betraying her word to Charlie.
He read her answer in her expression. "I didn't think you were in the market for a trade." He shrugged. "All right, fair is fair. We'll consider this a hiatus. No questions asked."
She started to turn away.
"Daisy."
She glanced back to see him still sitting where she had left him.
"Let me know when your tigers come and I'll help you fight them."
She shook her head. "When they come, I'll have to fight them myself." She smiled. "Just as you did."
He rose to his feet. "Let me know anyway."
"Maybe." A sudden hollowness echoed through her as she remembered that their time together was almost over. "If you're around."
"I'll be arou—" He broke off and was silent for a long moment. "I'll find a way to reach you." He started down the path after her. "Call me."
"It's no good!" Charlie threw down the brush and turned away from the easel. "I don't know why I try. It's no damn good."
Daisy stood up and jumped down from the platform. "What's wrong? You were so pleased with it."
"Because I'm a fool." Charlie's face was tormented. "Because I lie to myself."
"I like it, Charlie." Jason stood up from the piano he had been softly playing for the last hour. "And I don't consider myself a fool."
"You like it because it's Daisy," Charlie said harshly. "Do you think I don't know that? I'm as tired of your lies as I am of my own." He strode across the room and slammed out of the cottage.
"Shall I go after him?" Jason asked.
"No, leave him alone. He doesn't like company when he's like this." Daisy folded her arms across her chest to stop the trembling. She felt as raw and broken as if Charlie's torment were her own. "He explodes now and then. It's artistic temperament. He'll go for a long walk, stop at a bar and have a few drinks, and then come home. He'll be okay by the time he gets back. He's going through a bad time now."
"Can I help?"
She shook her head. "Tell me, is his portrait of me any good?"
Jason hesitated. "I'm no art critic."
Daisy sighed. "It's not good."
"I didn't say that. I don't know about the technical side, but it's full of emotion, it's full of . . . love."
Daisy felt the tears sting her eyes. "Yes, he's very good at love." Her eyes were jewel-bright as she gazed at him across the room. "It's not fair, you know. All his life he's wanted only one thing, to create something truly beautiful, to create something special. You'd think he would have been allowed that—" Her voice broke. "He's such a good man, Jason."
"I know," he said gently. "Charlie's a great guy. I like him very much."
Suddenly she couldn't take it any longer. The waiting had gone on too long and the world seemed full of pain and injustice. She had to run away from it before it overwhelmed her.
"Come on." She snatched up the fringed shawl and headed for the door. "We can't stay here waiting for him. It will only make him feel guilty when he comes back."
"Where are we going?"
"For a drive ... no, for a walk. I need the exercise. I feel as if I'm about to explode. The mountain. I think I'll go to the mountain."
"It's dark out."
"That won't bother me. I know the path."
"For Lord's sake, at least change clothes. The soles of those slippers won't grip the—"
"I don't care. I need to go now." She whirled at the door to look at him, trying to keep her voice steady. "I know I'm behaving like an idiot. You don't have to come with me."
"Don't be stupid," he said roughly. "Of course I'm coming with you."
She led the way up the mountain at a fast pace, trying not to think of anything but putting one foot before the other, to stretch her endurance to the limit so that she wouldn't think of Charlie's tormented expression before he left the cottage.
By the time she reached the summit, the blood was pounding in her veins, her head was swimming, and her lungs ached with every breath.
She stood on the summit and looked down at the lights of the houses in the valley. Charlie was probably in the bar by now, talking quietly to the bartender, sipping his beer, feeling discouraged and—
But she couldn't think of Charlie right now. It hurt too much.
She turned to Jason, who was climbing the last few yards. "Look at the moonlight on the lake," she said. "I don't like moonlight as much as sunlight, but I can't deny it's effective. What is there about light on water? Poets talk about it. Ballets are choreographed to extol its beauties. You'd think that—"
"Hush." Jason's breath was coming harshly, but the word was enunciated with precision. "You're babbling and It's not like you."
"Babble is a water word too." Even to herself her tone sounded feverish and the words kept welling, spilling out into the night. "You're very good at words. I've often thought your lyrics strike a chord in all of us."
He gripped her shoulders and shook her. "What the hell is wrong with you? I know you're upset about Charlie, but you're overreacting."
"Am I?" She turned to look out over the mountain range and in panic felt the emptiness rushing back to her. "You're probably right, but there are moments when it's—" She suddenly buried her face in his chest. "Will you make love to me, Jason?"
She felt him grow tense. "What?"
She was surprised as he was at her question. It had come out of nowhere, born of her sadness and desperation. Yet, in spite of her shock and the surge of tremulous fear that followed, she wasn't sorry for the words. Jason could help her, Jason could ease the pain and push away the approaching darkness.
"I mean it. I want to feel alive. I want to forget—" She broke off an
d lifted her head to stare up at him. "You said that . . . well, maybe you don't want me anymore. I understand if you don't want to do it."
"Oh, I want to do it all right," he said dryly. "I'm ready to pull you down to the ground and take you. But I don't know if I can."
"Why not? I said I wanted to do it."
"I find I have a few scruples left." His expression was grim in the moonlight. "For some reason you're practically shell-shocked."
She pressed closer and buried her face in his soft black cashmere sweater. She could hear the vibration of his heart beneath her ear and felt the
waves of heat emitting from his big body. Life. Safety from the threat of the tigers. "I'm fine."
"The hell you are," he said hoarsely.
She could feel his arousal pressing against her, his muscles tensing, ready. "I need you."
His heartbeat accelerated. "I believe you do." He paused. "Here?"
Her own heart gave a wild leap, and she kept her cheek pressed to his chest. "Yes. Right here, right now. Will you do it?"
"If I was a nice guy like Eric, I'd say no." He pushed her away and smiled recklessly down at her. "But what the hell? I'm no angel, and I've always been one to take advantage of the moment. Lord knows we may never have anything else." He pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the ground beside them. "I've wanted you too much to be choosy about the way I get you." He unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off, and dropped it on top of the sweater. "Take off your gown."
Her aggressiveness vanished and she felt suddenly shy. She stood staring at him with blazing cheeks.
"Shall I do it?" He didn't wait for an answer as he took a step closer and began to unfasten the tiny buttons marching down her bodice. "It's strange how a period gown like this makes a man feel."
"How does it—" She gasped as his knuckles brushed the inner swelling of her breasts as his fingers deftly negotiated the buttons.
"Like a brigand from another age," he said softly. "One who had no rules when he wanted a woman. All those hours I sat there in the cottage and watched your father paint you and thought about how I'd like to do this. I began to have all kinds of fantasies." He undid the last button, his gaze on her breasts tumbling from the loosened bodice. "About how I'd take off your gown and sit down in that big chair on the platform with you on my lap. How I'd like to put you astride me and rub you against me." He parted the material of her bodice and looked at the full globes of her breasts. His breath expelled in a burst of air. "Damn."
An Unexpected Song Page 4