by Nora Roberts
“Maddy—”
“I was in the neighborhood,” she began, and walked past him into the apartment. “I decided to drop in. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I—”
“Good. I’m always cranky when someone wakes me up. So …” She tossed her bag down. “How about a drink?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you I was in the neighborhood.”
Crossing to her, he held her by the shoulders and kept her still. “What are you doing here?”
She tilted her head. “I couldn’t keep away from you.”
Before he could prevent it, his hand had reached for her cheek. He dropped it again. “Maddy, a few hours ago—”
“I said a lot of things,” she finished for him. “They were all true. I love you, Reed. I want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you. And I think we could do a pretty good job of it. But until you think so, we’ll just have to coast.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
She rolled her eyes. “Reed, you’re putting those scratchy clothes on me again. If we were married, maybe—just maybe—you could suggest what was best for me. As things stand, I make my own decisions. I really would like a drink. Got any diet soda?”
“No.”
“All right, whiskey, then. Reed, it’s very rude to refuse to serve a guest a drink.”
He continued to hold her a moment longer, then gave in and lowered his forehead to hers. “I do need you, Maddy.”
“I know.” She lifted her hands to his face. “I know you do. I’m glad you know it.”
“If I could give you what you wanted—”
“We’ve talked about it enough for now. I’m leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow.”
“Dancing to the piper,” he murmured.
“That’s right, and I’m going to work my tail off, so I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to argue, not tonight.”
“All right. I’ll get us a drink.”
He moved over to the bar and chose a decanter. “You know, Reed, it’s still a very odd feeling for me to take my clothes off onstage.”
He had to laugh. Somehow she always made him laugh. “I imagine it is.”
“I mean, I wear a bodysuit and spangles and don’t expose more than I would on a public beach, but it’s the act itself that’s odd. I have to pull this off in front of several hundred people in a few days. That means practice, practice, practice.”
When he turned back, she was smiling at him and slowly unbuttoning her blouse. “I thought you might give me an unbiased opinion on my … stage presence. Stripping’s an art, you know.” She ran a hand down the center of her body as her blouse parted. “Titillating …” She turned her back and looked at him over her shoulder. “Fanciful.” She let the blouse slip gently away. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re doing great. So far.”
“I just want to be sure I make Mary realistic.” She loosened the tie on her skirt and let it fall as she turned back. The brief black merry widow she wore had him setting down his glass before he dropped it.
“I’ve never seen you wear anything like that.”
“This?” She passed a hand down her body again. “Not really my style. Not comfortable enough. But for Mary …” She bent from the waist and unhooked a garter from the sheer black stocking. “It’s sort of a trademark.” She straightened again and ran both hands through her hair in an upward motion. “Do you think it’ll sell?”
“I’m thinking that if you wear that onstage I’ll strangle you.”
With a laugh, she unhooked the second garter, then slowly rolled the stocking down her leg. “You have to remember I’m Mary once the curtain’s up. And I’m going to help make your play a hit.” She tossed the stocking at him, then began the same routine on the other. “It’s too bad I don’t have a more voluptuous figure.”
“Yours does very well.”
“Do you think?” Still smiling, she began to unhook the lace covering her breasts. “Reed, I hate to be a pest, but you haven’t given me that drink.”
“Sorry.” He picked up her glass and carried it to her. Maddy took it, and for a moment the humor in her eyes turned into something deeper. “This one’s for Pop,” she said, and touched her glass to his.
“What?”
“You don’t have to understand.” She smiled again and tossed back the shot of whiskey. It poured through her like lava. “What do you think of the show so far? Worth the price of a ticket?”
He’d meant to be gentle. He’d wanted to be tender to show her how much her coming back to him meant. But the hands that dived into her hair were tense and urgent. “I’ve never wanted you more.”
She tilted her head back and let her empty glass fall carelessly to the carpet. “Show me.”
He dragged her against him, desperate. The sting of whiskey clung to her lips, intoxicating. Her arms went around him, welcoming the rage of desire. It was the first time, the only time, she had felt him come to her without control. Her blood began to pound with anticipation at facing unleashed passion. When he pulled her to the floor, she went willingly.
His hands were everywhere, touching, stroking, pressing. He lifted her up to a blinding peak where she could only gasp his name and ask for more.
There was more, much more.
Impatient, he tugged at the remaining hooks, freeing her body to his. Just as urgent, her fingers tore at the belt of his robe until she found warm, naked flesh and muscle.
The carpet was smooth at her back. His body was hard against hers. She heard her name whispered through his lips, harshly. Then he was filling her.
It had never been so fast before, so furious, so unrestrained. Heedlessly she threw herself into the whirl of pleasure. Her body shook, and so did his. Love and passion mixed so intimately that she couldn’t tell one from the other and no longer tried.
She was there for him. As long as he accepted her arms around him, he was there for her.
Chapter 10
“We’d be better off walking.”
Maddy slowed and steered through yet another pothole before she tossed a grin at Wanda. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I lost it a mile back in that ditch we went through.”
“It wasn’t a ditch,” Maddy corrected as she maneuvered her way through downtown Philadelphia traffic. “Why don’t you look out the window and tell me when we pass something of great historical significance?”
“I can’t look out the window.” Wanda folded her long legs into a more comfortable position. It wasn’t easy, as Maddy had chosen to rent a nifty little compact with bucket seats that all but sat on the dash. “It makes me seasick when the buildings bounce up and down.”
“It’s not the buildings; it’s the car.”
“That, too.” Wanda grabbed the door handle for support. “Why did you rent this heap, anyway?”
“Because I never get to drive in New York. Is that Independence Hall?” When Maddy craned her neck around, Wanda gave her a none-too-gentle shove on the shoulder.
“Honey, you watch the road if you want to get back to New York.”
Maddy bumped to a stop at a light. “I like driving,” she said breezily.
“Some people like jumping out of planes,” Wanda muttered.
“I’d have a car in New York if I thought I would ever have a chance to use it. How much time do we have?”
“Fifteen fun-filled minutes.” Wanda braced herself as Maddy shot forward again. “I know I should have asked this before I got in the car, but when’s the last time you drove?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A year. Maybe two. I think we should try some of those little shops on South Street after rehearsal.”
“If we live to see it,” Wanda mumbled, then pressed the invisible brake on her side as Maddy whipped around a sedan. “You know, Maddy, the man on the street probably would think you’re about the happiest human being alive. Somebody who knows you a bit better might tell you that you
r smile’s going to crack around the edges if you don’t ease up.”
Maddy downshifted as the car jittered over yet another pothole. “That obvious?”
“Obvious enough. What’s going on with you and Mr. Wonderful?”
Maddy let out a long, sighing breath. “One day at a time.”
“And you’re the type who needs to have a good grip on next week.”
It was true, too true, but she shook her head. “He has a good reason for feeling the way he does.”
“But that doesn’t change the way you feel.”
“I guess not. You know, Wanda, I never really used to believe it when people said life was complicated. Stop me if I get too personal,” she began, and Wanda merely shrugged. “When you were married before, did you think it was forever?”
Wanda pursed her lips. “I guess you could say I did and he didn’t.”
“Well, would you … I mean, if you met someone you really cared about, would you get married?”
“Again?” Instinctively Wanda started to laugh, then thought better of it. “If there was someone who made everything click, I might do it. But I’d think about it for longer. No, hell, I wouldn’t, either. I’d dive in with both feet.”
“Why?”
“Because there aren’t any guarantees. If I thought I had a chance, I’d take it. Like the lottery. Weren’t you supposed to turn there?”
“Turn? Oh, damn.” Muttering to herself, Maddy bumped her way around the block. “Now we’ll be late.”
“Better that you get what’s on your mind out of your system first, anyway.”
“I was just hoping he’d be here.” Maddy turned again and got back on track. “I know he couldn’t very well spend the whole week down here while we’re in rehearsal, but we’d kind of planned that he would come today.”
“No-show?”
“Something came up. He was vague about it, something about some problem with playlists and promoters or something.”
“We’ve all got a job to do, kid.”
“Yeah.” With maneuvering even Wanda had to admire, Maddy squeezed into a minuscule parking space right across from the theater. “I guess I better think about my own. Two more full rehearsals and we’re on.”
“Don’t remind me.” Wanda set a hand on her stomach. “Every time I think about it a 747 lands in my gut.”
“You’re going to be great.” Maddy stepped out of the car and slammed the door. At the end of the block, someone was selling cut flowers. She made a mental note to treat herself after rehearsal. “We’re going to be great.”
“I’m going to hold you to that. The last play I was in closed after two performances. I gave serious thought to sticking my head in the oven. But it was electric.”
“Tell you what.” Maddy paused by the stage door and grinned. “If we flop, you can use mine. I’ve got gas.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Maddy pushed open the door, took one step inside, then let out a whoop. With some curiosity, Wanda watched her launch down the corridor and fling herself at a group of people.
“You’re here. You’re all here.”
“And where else would we be?” Frank O’Hurley picked up his baby girl and swung her in a circle.
“But all of you!” The minute her feet touched the floor, Maddy grabbed her mother and squeezed her ribs until they threatened to crack. “You look great, absolutely great.”
“So do you.” Molly returned the hug. “And late for rehearsal, as usual.”
“Missed my turn driving here. Oh, Abby.” She reached for her sister, hugged and held on. “I’m so glad you could come. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away from the farm.”
“It’ll be there when we get back. How often does my sister have an opening night?” But concern clouded Abby’s eyes. She knew her sister as well as she knew herself, and she didn’t think the tension she felt from Maddy had anything to do with professional nerves.
Still hugging Abby, Maddy grabbed for her brother-in-law’s hand. “Dylan, thanks for bringing her.”
“I think it was the other way around.” With a laugh, he kissed Maddy’s cheek. “But you’re welcome.”
“It’s too bad,” she began with a wink to Abby, “that you couldn’t bring the boys.”
“We’re right here.”
Deliberately Maddy looked in the opposite direction. “Did I hear something?”
“We came, too.”
“We’re going to New York.”
“I could have sworn I …” Maddy let her words trail off as she focused on her nephews. Carefully she kept her face blank for a moment, then widened her eyes. “You can’t be Ben and Chris—can you? They’re just little boys. You’re both much too tall to be Ben and Chris.”
“We are, too,” Chris piped up. “We grew.”
Taking her time, Maddy studied both of them. “No fooling?”
“Come on, Aunt Maddy.” Though he tried not to look too pleased, Ben grinned and shuffled his feet. “You know it’s us.”
“You’re going to have to prove it to me. Give me a hug.”
She bent down to hold them both tight. “We rode on a plane,” Chris began. “I got to sit by the window.”
“Miss O’Hurley, they want you in wardrobe.”
“Shoot.” Maddy released her nephews and straightened. “Look, where are you all staying? There’s a whole list of hotels on the call board. I can—”
“We’re booked in your hotel,” Molly told her. “Now go on, we’ll have plenty of time.”
“Okay. Are you going to stay for rehearsal?”
“Think they could stop us?” Frank asked.
When she heard her name again, she started down the hall, walking backward to keep them in view just a moment longer. “As soon as I’m done, we’re going to celebrate. I’m buying.”
Frank chuckled and draped an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “Does she think we’d argue with that? Let’s go get a front-row seat.”
* * *
“Mr. Selby to see you, sir.” Hannah kept a cool, professional smile on her face as she ushered Selby into Reed’s office.
“Thank you, Hannah. Hold my calls.” There would be no tray of coffee and sweet rolls today. Reed caught Hannah’s look of disapproval before she shut the door. “Sit down, Selby.”
“I guess your old man’s proud of you.” Selby cast a look around the office before he settled himself comfortably. “You’ve kept the label right up top. Heard you signed that little group from D.C. A risky move.”
Reed merely lifted a brow and held his gaze steady. He knew Galloway had offered the group a contract. Valentine had simply offered them a better one. “We don’t mind a few risks.”
“Always a headache to get the stations to put new talent on their playlist. A CD from an unknown’s going to die without solid promotion.” Selby took out a small, thin cigar, then fiddled with his lighter. “That’s why I’m here. I thought it would be wise if we talked before the RIAA meeting this afternoon.”
Reed continued to sit back, waiting for Selby to light his cigar. He’d known as soon as Selby had requested an appointment that the other man was running scared. The Recording Industry Association of America didn’t have closed meetings every day. Those involved were aware that the label heads would vote on whether the organization should investigate independent promoters. Some major record companies, Galloway included, still used the independents, though the shadow of scandal, payola and kickbacks lurked around the edges of their profession.
“Look, Valentine,” Selby began when Reed remained silent. “Neither of us started in this business yesterday. We know what the bottom line is. Airplay. Without airplay on the important stations, a CD dies.”
He was sweating, Reed observed calmly. Beneath the trendy suit and the sunlamp tan, nerves ran hot. Just what would a full investigation mean to Galloway? Reed speculated.
“When you pay for airplay, Selby, you’re riding a sick horse.
Sooner or later it’s going to fall down under you.”
Letting out a quick stream of smoke, Selby leaned forward. “We both know how the system works. If it means slipping a few hundred to a program director, who does it hurt?”
“And if it means threatening that same program director if he doesn’t play ball?”
“That’s nonsense.” But there was a tiny bead of sweat on his temple.
“If it is, an investigation will clear it up. In the meantime, Valentine Records will get its new releases played without independents.”
“Throwing the baby out with the bathwater,” Selby snapped, then rose. “Top 40 stations report their playlist to the trades. If a new release doesn’t hit the trades, it might as well not exist. That’s the system.”
“Maybe the system needs a little reworking.”
“Just as narrow-minded and straight as your old man.”
A ghost of a smile touched Reed’s lips. “Thank you.”
“It’s easy for you, isn’t it?” Bitter, Selby turned on Reed. “You sit here in your cozy little office, never getting your hands dirty. Your daddy did that for you.”
Reed checked his temper. “If you look,” he said quietly, “you’ll see my father’s hands are clean. Valentine doesn’t, and never has, run its business on payola, kickbacks or heavy-handed threats.”
“You’re not so lily-white, Valentine.”
“Let’s just say that in an hour Valentine Records will vote for a full investigation.”
“It’ll never fly.” Selby smirked as he crushed out his cigar, but his hands weren’t steady. He’d come to Reed because Valentine had the reputation and power to sway the vote. Now he was choking. Selby loosened the careful knot of his tie. “Too many labels know where the bread’s buttered. Even if you probe, I won’t lose. Oh, a few heads will roll down the line, but mine won’t. Ten years ago, Galloway was a hole-in-the-wall. Today it’s one of the top names in the business. I made it because I played the game, I watched the angles. When the dust settles, Valentine, I’m still going to be on top.”
“I’m sure you will,” Reed murmured as Selby stormed out of his office. Men like that never paid for their actions. They had plenty of fall guys and scapegoats littering their path. If Reed had wanted a personal vendetta, he could have initiated an investigation of his own. Already he had information on a disc jockey who’d been beaten, allegedly for not playing certain releases. There was the program director in New Jersey whose wife had been threatened. There was another who made frequent trips to Vegas, traveling first-class and gambling heavily. More heavily than his annual salary would permit. Part of the game. Not a game Reed cared to play.