Dance to the Piper: The O'Hurleys

by Nora Roberts

  “I’m sorry.” She took a last long breath and looked up. His expression was shuttered. Though they were still tangled together, he’d distanced himself. “I’m not sorry I said it, or that I feel it; I’m sorry you don’t want it.”

  He told himself that the rush of feeling was regret, not hope. “Maddy, I don’t believe in catchphrases, or the need for them.”

  “Catchphrases.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “You consider ‘I love you’ a catchphrase?”

  “What else?” Taking her by the shoulders, he shifted them both until they were sitting. “Maddy, we have something good between us. Let’s not cover it with comfortable lies.”

  What she swallowed wasn’t bitterness but hurt. “I don’t lie, Reed.”

  Something moved inside him, something warm. He didn’t quite recognize it as another surge of hope before he forced it back. “Fantasize, then.”

  Her voice was quiet, not quite steady, when she spoke again. “You don’t believe I could love you?”

  “Love’s just a word.” He rolled out of bed, grabbing his robe again. “It exists, certainly. Father to son, mother to daughter, brother to sister. When it comes to a man and woman, there are things like attraction, infatuation, even obsession. They come and go, Maddy.”

  She could only stay where she was and stare at him. “You don’t really believe that.”

  “I know it.” He cut her off so sharply she flinched. He regretted his harshness instantly, but he swallowed the regret. “People come together because they want something from each other. They stay together until they want something from someone else. While they’re together, they make promises they don’t intend to keep and say things they don’t mean. Because it’s expected. I have no expectations.”

  Suddenly cold, she drew the sheet up. To Reed, she looked terribly young and small and vulnerable. “I’ve never told another man that I loved him. I don’t suppose that matters.”

  He couldn’t let it. There was no way to explain it to her. “I don’t want the words, Maddy.” He walked to the window, his back to her. Why should he hurt? he wondered. He was only speaking the truth. “I can’t give them back to you.”

  “Why, I wonder.” Determined not to cry, she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes for a moment. “What was it that happened to lock off your emotions, Reed? What’s made you so hell-bent to stay untouched? I said I loved you.” Her voice rose as she allowed the fury to overwhelm the pain. “I’m not ashamed of it. I didn’t say it to pull some sort of declaration from you. It’s simply the truth. You’re looking for lies where there aren’t any.”

  She wouldn’t lose her temper, she told herself as she drew breath in and out slowly. But she wasn’t finished. They weren’t finished. “Are you going to try to tell me you didn’t feel anything just now? Do you really believe we had sex and nothing more?”

  When he turned, his struggle was all internal. Nothing showed on his face. “I don’t have anything more to give you. Take it or leave it, Maddy.”

  Her fingers tightened on the sheet, but she nodded. “I see.”

  “I need some coffee.” He turned on his heel and left her alone. His hands were shaking. Why did he feel as though everything he’d said had been someone else’s thoughts, someone else’s words?

  What was wrong with him? Reed slammed the kettle on the burner, then leaned both palms on the counter. When she’d said she loved him, part of him had wanted and needed it. Part of him had believed it.

  He was becoming a fool over her. That had to stop. He had a prime example of what happens to a man who trusts a woman, who devotes his life to her. Reed had promised himself he wouldn’t allow himself the same vulnerability. Maddy couldn’t change that. He couldn’t let her.

  She might actually believe she loved him. It wouldn’t take long for her to realize differently. In the meantime, they simply had to go on carefully and play by the rules.

  He heard the front door open, then close again. For a long time, Reed simply stood there. Even when the water began to steam and boil, he only stood there. He knew she was gone this time. And he felt hideously empty.

  Chapter 9

  “I don’t care if you’ve scheduled open-heart surgery, you are going to that party tonight.”

  Maddy pulled on a high-top sneaker. “Wanda, what’s the big deal?”

  “No big deal.” Wanda pulled Maddy’s eye-covered sweatshirt over her head, then studied the results. “You’re going to go home and put on your fancy dress and party.”

  “I just said I was a little tired and not in the mood for a party.”

  “And I say you’re sulking.”

  “Sulking?” Eyes narrowed, Maddy pulled on her second shoe. She was ready for a fight, primed for it. “I don’t sulk.”

  Wanda plopped down beside her on the bench. “You’re an expert at sulking.”

  “Don’t push it, Wanda. I’m in a very mean mood.”

  Wanda seriously doubted that Maddy could be mean if she took a course in it. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about what a jerk your guy is, fine.”

  “He’s not my guy.”

  “Who’s not your guy?”

  Frustration came out in a low whistle under her breath. “He. He is not my guy. I do not have a guy; I do not want a guy. Therefore, whoever he is, he can’t be mine.”

  “Uh-huh.” Wanda examined her nails and decided that particular shade of red was very becoming. “But he is a jerk.”

  “I didn’t say—” Her humor got the better of her, and she grinned. “Yeah, he’s a jerk.”

  “Honey, they all are. The point is, Mr. Valentine Senior’s throwing us this bash, and the star of the show can’t go home and pout in her bathtub.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” Maddy tied an elaborate bow with her laces. “I was going to pout in bed.”

  Wanda watched Maddy tie her other shoe. “If you don’t go, I’m going to tell everyone in the company that you think you’re too classy to party with us.”

  Maddy snorted. “Who’d believe you?”

  “Everybody. ’Cause you won’t be there.”

  Maddy lunged off the bench and began to drag a brush through her hair. “Look, why don’t you lay off?”

  “Because I like your face.”

  Wanda only grinned when Maddy scowled at her. “I’m just too tired to go, that’s all.”

  “Bull. I’ve been rehearsing with you for weeks now. You don’t get tired.”

  Maddy let the brush clatter into the sink. In the reflection, her eyes met Wanda’s. “I’m tired tonight.”

  “You’re sulking tonight.”

  “I’m not—” Yes, she was, she admitted silently. “He’ll be there,” she blurted out. “I don’t— I just don’t think I can handle it.”

  The saucy look was replaced by concern. Wanda rose to drape an arm around Maddy’s shoulder. “Hit hard?”

  “Yeah.” Maddy pressed her fingers between her eyes. “Real hard.”

  “Had a good cry yet?”

  “No.” She shook her head, fighting for composure. “I didn’t want to be any more of a fool than I already was.”

  “You’re a fool if you don’t cry it out.” Wanda tugged her back to the bench. “Sit down here and put your head on Wanda’s shoulder.”

  “I didn’t think it would hurt so bad,” Maddy managed as the tears started to fall.

  “Who does?” Keeping her voice quiet, Wanda patted her arm. “If we knew how bad it can be, we wouldn’t come within ten feet of a man. But we keep going back, because sometimes it’s the best there is.”

  “It stinks.”

  “To high heaven.”

  “He’s not worth crying over.” She wiped the back of her hand over her cheek.

  “Not one of them is. Except, of course, the right one.”

  “I love him, Wanda.”

  Wanda carefully drew back far enough to study Maddy’s face. “The real thing?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t bother to wipe the te
ars away again. “Only he doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t even want me to love him. Somehow I always thought when I got hit, the other person would get hit, too, and we’d go on to happy ever after. Reed doesn’t even think love exists.”

  “That’s his problem.”

  “No, it’s mine, too, because I’ve been trying for days and days to get over him, and I can’t.” She drew in a deep breath. There would be no more tears. “So you see why I can’t go tonight.”

  “Hell, no. I see why you have to go.”

  “Wanda—”

  “Look, honey, go home and bury your head in the sand, and you’re going to feel the same way tomorrow.” When she spoke again, there was a toughness in her voice that made Maddy’s spine straighten. “What do you do when an audience freezes up on you and sits there like a bunch of mummies?”

  “I want to go stomp off to my dressing room.”

  “But what do you do?”

  Maddy sighed and brushed her hands over her damp face. “I stand onstage and sweat it out.”

  “And that’s what you have to do tonight. And if I’m any judge of men, he’s going to be doing some sweating of his own. I saw the way he watched you when he and his old man came to rehearsal. Come on, let’s get started. We’ve got to get dressed.”

  * * *

  Maddy revved herself up to see Reed again the same way she revved herself up to face an audience. She told herself she knew her lines, she knew her moves, and if she made a mistake, she’d cover it before anyone noticed. She chose a strapless dress that hugged her hips and draped sensuously down her body and was slit up the side to the middle of her thigh. If she was going to flop, she was going to look great doing it.

  Still, as she stood in front of Edwin Valentine’s imposing front door, she had to talk herself out of turning around and running for cover.

  Setting her chin, she knocked. She was prepared to face him again. She was prepared to act casual and cool. The one thing she wasn’t prepared for was the possibility that Reed would open the door himself. She stared at him, astonished at how much emotion could churn inside the human body.

  He wondered why his fingers hadn’t simply crushed the faceted glass knob he gripped as he looked at her.

  “Hello, Maddy.”

  “Reed.” She wouldn’t smile. It simply wasn’t possible just yet. But she wouldn’t collapse at his feet, either. “I hope I’m not early.”

  “No. As a matter of fact, my father’s been waiting for you.”

  “Then I’ll go say hello right away.” The blare of a trumpet pealed out from down the hall. “I take it the party’s down there.” She skirted around him, ignoring the knot in her stomach.

  “Maddy.”

  Bracing herself, she looked carelessly over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Are you … how have you been?”

  “Busy.” The bell rang behind him, and she lifted a brow. “It looks like you’ve got your hands full, too. See you later.” She walked blindly down the hall, blinking furiously to clear her vision.

  The party was in full swing. Maddy stepped into it and allowed herself to be caught up in the good feelings, the excitement and the camaraderie. She exchanged a few quick, careless embraces and fended off a more intimate one from a member of the brass section.

  “I was beginning to think you’d backed out.” Wanda, who’d been talking to one of the musicians, came up beside her, a jerk of her head sending the horn player on his way.

  “Nope. Nobody can call an O’Hurley a coward.”

  “Might help you to know that the younger Valentine has been watching the door for the last half hour.”

  “He has?” She started to turn around, to look for him, then stopped herself. “No, it doesn’t matter. Let’s have a drink. Champagne?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Valentine’s a real sport. You know, he’s a nice man.” Wanda took a glass of champagne and downed it in one shot. “Not stuffy. He acts as though we’re real people.”

  “We are real people.”

  “Don’t spread that around.” A slow gleam came into Wanda’s eyes as she looked over Maddy’s shoulder. “There’s Phil. I’ve decided to let him convince me he has serious intentions. Not necessarily honorable,” she added as her smile widened. “Just serious.”

  “Phil?” Interested, Maddy eyed the dancer who played Wanda’s partner. “Well, does he?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Wanda grabbed another glass of champagne. “The fun’s in finding out.”

  Wishing she could agree, Maddy turned to the buffet table where groups of hungry dancers crowded together. Eat, drink and be merry, she told herself. For tomorrow we go to Philadelphia.

  “Maddy.”

  Before she could choose between the pâté and the quiche, Edwin came up behind her.

  “Oh, Mr. Valentine. What a great party.”

  “Edwin,” he corrected as he took her hand and kissed it in a courtly gesture that made her smile. “It has to be Edwin if you’re going to give me the dance you promised.”

  “Then it’s Edwin, and it will be my pleasure.” With a hand on his shoulder, she moved into step with him. “I got in touch with my parents,” she began. “They’re in New Orleans, but they’re going to make it for opening night in Philly. I was hoping you’d be there.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. You know, Maddy, this play is the best thing I’ve done for myself in years. I thought it was time I let myself grow old, you know.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You’re so young.” He patted the back of her waist where his hand guided her. “When you come up on sixty, you look around and say to yourself, okay, it’s time to slow down now. You’ve earned it. You should relax and enjoy your waning years.”

  “Waning years.” She tossed her hair back and grinned at him. “Phooey.”

  “Well, that’s about it.” He chuckled down at her, and she wondered why Reed hadn’t inherited those kind, dark eyes. “After I’d retired, I realized I wanted a bit more than eighteen holes every Wednesday. I needed youth around me, their vitality. Reed’s always kept me young, you know. As much my best friend as my son. A man couldn’t do any better.”

  “He loves you very much.”

  Something in her tone had him glancing down. “Yes, he does. I wanted to give him a chance with the business without me hanging around, poking into things. He’s done well. More than well,” he said with a sigh. “Reed’s put his whole life into the business. Maybe that’s a mistake.”

  “He doesn’t think so.”

  “No? I wonder. Well, in any case, until this play came along I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do with myself. Now I think I found out.”

  “Broadway fever?”

  “Exactly.” Somehow he’d known she would understand him. He could only hope she would understand his son as well. “Once this play’s established, I’m going to hunt myself up another. I figure I’ve got myself an expert whose opinion I can ask for and trust.”

  She saw the question in his eyes and nodded slowly. “If you want to play angel, Edwin, I’ll be glad to play devil’s advocate.”

  “I knew I could count on you. I’ve been around entertainers all my life, Maddy. Made my living off them. That kind of punch just can’t be replaced with a golf ball.” He gave her a quick, companionable pat. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

  A glance at the buffet table had her sighing. “My hero.”

  The music changed from mellow to manic as three members of the cast jumped together to belt out a medley of Broadway hits. It didn’t take long for Phil to pull Wanda stage center for an impassioned pas de deux. The chorus of cheers turned quickly into a challenge of champions as another couple swirled out.

  “Come on, Maddy,” Terry said, taking her by the hand. “We can’t let them show us up.”

  “Sure we can,” Maddy told him, and reached for the pate again.

  “No. We’ve got a reputation to uphold. Remember the number from
Within Reach?”

  “That was the biggest bomb I ever rode into the ground.”

  “So the play stunk,” he said easily. “But the dances we had together were terrific. We got the only good reviews. Come on, Maddy, for old time’s sake.”

  He tugged on her arm and grinned. Unable to resist, Maddy went into a series of pirouettes that ended with them caught close. The few dancers who recognized the moves went into a round of applause.

  It was a slow, seductive number with long moves and extended holds that took perfect timing and muscle control. The routine came back to her, as though she’d rehearsed it that afternoon rather than four years before. The file simply clicked open, and her body remembered.

  She felt Terry brace for the lift and pliéd to help him. With the trust of dancer for dancer, she arched back until her hair nearly swept the rug.

  Then she was laughing and bouncing back into his arms from the sheer fun of it. “Maybe it wasn’t such a bomb,” she said breathlessly.

  “Baby, it was atomic.” Then he gave her a friendly pat on the rump as the music changed tempo and other dancers merged together.

  Reed was watching her. When her gaze was drawn to his, Maddy felt the heat rise to her skin along with wishes and regrets. Thinking only of escape, she turned and went through the doors onto the terrace.

  The air was hot and sultry there, as if it bounced off the pavement and rose up. Maddy leaned on the banister and gave in to it. She absorbed the noise, the movement and the life of the city beneath her. She could need, she could wish, but she wouldn’t regret. Steadying herself, Maddy drew on the strength she’d been born with. She wouldn’t regret.

  She knew Reed had stepped onto the terrace behind her before he spoke. It had been wrong of her to think of running, to think of hiding in her apartment. He was still what she wanted, like it or not.

  “Tell me if you’d rather I go.”

  It was so like him, she thought, to lay the choices out front. She turned and let herself look at him. “No, of course not.”

  He curled his hands into his pockets. “Are you generous with everyone, Maddy, or most particularly with me?”