by Vivien Dean
For some inexplicable reason, this seemed to calm him. “A painting, huh? Okay. That’s good. I can work with that.” Shooting a brilliant photo-op smile at Ava, he finished with, “Thanks.”
She was left standing there with a frown and a million questions. What had that been about? First thing she was going to do when Maddy came in was find out what on earth had happened the night before. If it got Aaron in a tizzy, it had to be good.
Chapter Five
In a desperate attempt to divert her thoughts from the possibilities Cash laid out, Maddy retreated to the kitchen, ransacking the polished cupboards until she found what she needed to make a pot of coffee. She was grateful he stayed behind. It was hard enough processing the too-fantastic story he wove with those steady green eyes boring into her.
The problem was…she believed him. Completely. It wasn’t just that she didn’t have a better explanation, though that was certainly a big part of it. It was the way he had sat her down and explained it to her. Like equals. That wasn’t exactly his usual style. As he’d spoken, there were no remnants of the tease who haunted her nights, not in his eyes, not in his voice. Cash stated his case clearly, solemnly, without a shred of falsehood to hint that he might be acting, and though the world he described sounded ludicrous, so was witnessing paint bleed into a person’s skin merely through the faintest of touches.
The fact that he didn’t have to tell her anything at all didn’t escape her notice either. It was his painting, his problem. He could’ve abandoned her the previous night at the club and left her to figure things out on her own. By taking her into his confidence, even as limited as it might be, Cash was placing them on the same side. That was a mystery in its own right, but one she didn’t need to worry about solving until they got out of here.
Whenever that might be.
She breathed in the scent of the strong coffee, foregoing milk for the scalding rich tang sliding directly down her throat. It soothed even as it burned, and by the time she finished the cup, Maddy felt infinitely more in control. “Do you want some coffee?” she called out to Cash in the other room.
“I was wondering if you were ever going to offer.”
The nearness of his voice made her drop her cup in the sink, tiny shards of porcelain scattering across the rounded bowl. She jerked her hand away in time to avoid getting cut, but it didn’t prevent Cash from darting forward from where he’d been lurking in the kitchen’s doorway.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
When he took her wrists to inspect them, she snatched her hands away, backing off and grabbing the towel on the counter. “Don’t do that,” Maddy wiped the splatters of coffee from her forearms. “I hate it at work, and I hate it here. If you’re going to be in a room, be in it. Don’t slink around the doors, waiting to make your move.”
Cash grinned, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t slink. You just have this tendency to block out the world so when someone reminds you it’s still there, you jump.”
Her mouth opened to counter his statement, but the argument never came, forcing her to snap her jaws shut again with an audible click. With as much disdain as she could muster, Maddy marched past him into the living room, not surprised when he followed.
“What is it you think you’re going to do for the rest of the day?” he asked as she headed straight for the bedroom in which she’d woken.
She hadn’t given it much thought. Her only plan had been to get as far away from him as possible.
“Can I make a suggestion then?” he continued when she didn’t bother to reply.
Maddy paused at the door, glancing back to see Cash walk to the large unit along the wall. Opening it revealed an antiquated record player tucked inside, complete with records lined up next to it. “What’re you doing?”
He ignored her query, flipping through the record sleeves before extracting one to place on the table. The quiet strains of something her grandmother used to listen to filled the room, its jazzy undertones warming her with familiarity.
“You don’t know how to dance, do you?” He didn’t pose the question with animosity. It was more a statement of fact. He’d witnessed her feeble attempts firsthand. “So, unless you want to continue with the barfly routine, maybe I should show you a few steps.”
“You know how to dance?”
The incredulity in her voice earned her a brilliant smile. “You really think I’m going to pass on a way to pull beautiful women?”
When he put it that way… “I thought I was doing fine last night.”
“You were. And you have the hangover to prove it.”
She stood there silently, long enough for the first song to end and the second to begin. Cash never made a move, waiting patiently by the record player, dancing eyes watching her with growing amusement.
“You know this only works if you’re actually within touching distance, don’t you?” he asked when the second song ended as well.
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“Think a little bit closer then.” With long steps, he marched forward and took her hand, leading her back to the open space in the middle of the room. “You didn’t have this much of a problem dancing with me last night.”
Maddy colored at the reminder. “I was drunk, remember?”
The song was a slow waltz, and Cash settled his hand at the small of her back to pull her gently against his body. He didn’t start moving his feet right away, though. Instead, he leaned in, his mouth hovering just next to her ear. “Don’t tell me you can only dance with me when you’re drunk. Because something tells me you’d feel even better in my arms stone cold sober.”
Then they were gliding, feet shifting those few inches as the music coaxed them into a familiar pattern, torsos melding in a sinuous grace that was pure instinct. She didn’t respond to his playful taunt. Anything she could say would incriminate her further.
But as he led her through that first lesson, Maddy hid away her pleased smile. He was right about one thing.
It definitely worked best when they were touching.
He surprised her.
Their waltz ended too quickly, segueing into something faster, more driven, reminiscent of most of the numbers she’d heard at the Rising Sun. Their lessons shifted, falling into a simple routine of Cash demonstrating the steps and then Maddy trying to imitate them, but the most difficult part of all was getting used to being held by him so intimately.
For his part, Cash seemed oblivious to the effect he had on her. His hands roamed over her body as if they’d been lovers for years, and even the brush of their hips as they executed a twist or a turn elicited nothing more than a knowing smile when their eyes met. If he noticed the extra stain in her cheeks or the runaway chase along her skin, he gave no sign. He didn’t even lapse into his usual mockery. All his words were reserved for the lessons, whether they were in the middle of the foxtrot or something swingier.
Eventually, Maddy began to relax. She might not have known these specific moves, but she was hardly without her own measure of grace. It only took seeing the steps once or twice for her to learn them, and only a few more attempts to gain mastery. Within an hour, all thoughts regarding appropriateness were banished, lost in the sheer joy of the dance.
When a clock somewhere in the apartment chimed four, Maddy broke away from Cash’s arms, out of breath and perspiring from the effects of the exercise. Her pulse raced, her brow gleaming with sweat, and she bent over at the waist to try to regain her equilibrium.
“Enough,” she panted. “That’s enough.”
Cash clicked his tongue in reproof. “Never pegged you for a quitter, Cardinale.”
Though she didn’t straighten, she lifted her head enough to glare at him. “Are you forgetting I get to do this all night too?”
She thought for a second that his gaze flickered elsewhere, along her body, but then he was smiling, shaking his head seemingly at his own foolishness.
“One more then.” He walked back to the ster
eo and the stack of records next to it. “Told you. Last dance is always mine.” He flicked through the albums as if specifically looking for something, then pulled one from its sleeve and swapped it over on the table. He missed the groove he wanted at first, the final notes of the previous melody playing before the needle settled into the song he wanted.
The soft strains of a gentle ballad filled the air. Without a word, Cash came back to Maddy, reaching down to grab her wrist and guiding her firmly back into a vertical position. She didn’t protest when he pulled her tightly to him, nor did she struggle against the iron of his hand in the small of her back. She could only follow his lead as he started to glide around the room.
Her dress clung to her, heavy against her breasts, but through it, she felt the slick anticipation of Cash’s skin beneath his thin shirt. Tiny beads of sweat dripped along her hairline, but not even the faint tickle could distract her from the sudden roar of her blood or the tremors in her thighs.
For the first time in hours, she stumbled. Immediately, Cash caught her against his hip, holding her there for what seemed an eternity, but could only have been a fragment of a moment. His unmistakable arousal nudged along her body, and when she turned to more fully face him again, the flicker of desire darkened his eyes.
“Maybe we should stop,” she breathed.
“I think we already have.”
Dimly, she became aware of the stillness of their feet. The thudding elsewhere in her body had completely blocked it out. “But you’re not letting me go.”
“No. I’m not.”
The moment she saw his mouth descend, Maddy’s lashes fluttered closed. Excitement quickened everything but time while she waited for him to kiss her, but his lips never met hers. They brushed across her cheek, warm and soft, and trailed down her neck, stopping at the hollow under her ear. He sucked at it gently as firm hands began to slide downward to cup her ass.
The moan escaped her throat before she could stop it. Maddy lifted her hand to curl into the short hairs at his nape, holding him closer, silently willing him to take it further. She didn’t want to consider the fact there wasn’t any alcohol to blame it on this time. The whisper of his touch and the draw of his desire made it impossible to be rational. All she wanted in that sliver of time was to welcome him deep inside her.
The shrill ring of the telephone shattered her trance, and Cash stiffened as the yielding cup of his hands disappeared from her body. Maddy yanked out of his embrace, stumbling backward to stare at him with thundering heart and bewildered eyes, then whirled to race for the still-ringing phone. She grabbed it like a lifeline, aware that her hand shook as she lifted it to her ear, and turned her back to the room to avoid seeing the object of her confusion.
It took Cash a full thirty seconds to realize she wasn’t in his arms anymore. The shock of how far he’d taken his attraction, kissing her as if they were already lovers, claiming her body for his touch when all they’d done was dance, shook him more deeply than he wanted to believe. He hadn’t intended to take it that far. There was no way to deny his desire for her, but in light of their situation and knowing how she felt about him, the last thing he wanted was to act on it. Their newfound trust was tenuous at best. Instigating anything further would break it beyond repair.
Maddy might be attracted to him, but she sure as hell didn’t like him. He’d ruined any chance of that back in New York. Any other time and it wouldn’t have bothered him, but right now, they needed to work together to make sure they both got out without any serious repercussions. Together meant friends. Together didn’t mean lovers.
When she murmured a shaky hello into the receiver, he turned away to better block out the image of her ripe curves standing just feet away. Marching over to the record player, he snatched the needle from the disc, scratching it across the surface. Grimacing, he removed the record and held it to the light. A deep gouge ran through several tracks, the remnants of his carelessness. It was going to be unplayable now. Maybe that was for the better. He wasn’t sure he could hear that particular song again without remembering the taste of Maddy against his lips.
He heard her return the receiver to the cradle, but didn’t look up or glance back to acknowledge it.
“That was Mr. Lombardi.” Her voice was unsteady, evoking the memory of her hot breath in the same rhythm along his neck. “He says the car will be around to pick us up in an hour.”
Cash exhaled just as shakily, though he kept his back to her so she couldn’t see how affected he still was. “Why don’t you go take the first shower?” His voice surprised him with its calm. “You need more time than I do to get yourself ready.”
Silence answered him. She was hesitating? Why? He fought the impulse to look back at her, focusing instead on putting away the records, and within a minute, the bedroom door clicked shut
Cash banged his forehead against the edge of the cupboard. What a mess. He just hoped he didn’t end up making it worse by the time they got back home.
Chapter Six
“Maddy!” Cash shouted, pounding on the locked door of the dressing room. “The car’s been waiting for twenty minutes!”
“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”
“Hurry faster!”
With a frustrated growl, he whirled away from the door and paced around the room, long legs measuring off the wide-open space in quickening steps. He wore his fury in shades of black that matched his tuxedo, his normally light eyes dark, the muscles in his jaw twitching. Marching to the window, he yanked back the curtain to stare down at the road. A minute passed, and with another rumble of frustration, Cash ripped the curtains shut, returning to the dressing room to bang his fist on the wood again.
“I’m leaving!” he announced. “And so help me God, if you’re not out here right now, I’m going to tell Lombardi you want back on the roster!”
He took a few steps back, waiting for the door to fly open.
“Five more minutes!”
Swearing under his breath, Cash stomped toward the bedroom’s exit, only to pivot again before he got there to go back to the dressing room.
“If you’re not downstairs in three minutes,” he barked, “you can walk for all I care!”
This time, his departure was real. He slammed the doors shut behind him, rattling the windows in their frames.
The apartment hung in silence for a full minute. From the street, the faint sounds of cars moving up and down the road filtered through the drawn curtains, the first signs of stars beginning to twinkle through the slits.
A muffled, “Damn it!” came from the dressing room, followed almost immediately by the door flying open and Maddy stumbling out, trying to slip shoes onto her feet while walking at the same time. Half-hopping, half-running, she dashed for the bedroom door, her coat flapping around her dress.
Sitting next to Cash in the car, Maddy kept her coat clutched around her, arguing silently with herself about her choice of dress. After the day they spent together, Maddy had been struck by an inexplicable mood once faced with her wardrobe, and now, she was convinced she’d made the wrong decision. He’s going to assume the worst, she worried as she watched New York zip by outside her window. Which I absolutely don’t care about because it’s Cash.
Except, for some reason, she did. Care. He hadn’t been as antagonistic toward her as he was at the museum, for one thing. He’d actually been…nice. Mostly. Like, not taking advantage of her when she was drunk. Teaching her how to dance so she wouldn’t have to resort to alcohol again. He was acting…well, human. It was disconcerting.
I’m not getting dressed up for him. I like to look good. That’s all. This has absolutely nothing at all with wanting Cash to notice me.
It was the fourteenth time she’d silently repeated that.
She tried telling herself this wasn’t how she worked, that she wasn’t this impulsive. If she’d been talking about anything other than men, it might’ve been convincing. In her work, yes, she was thorough and methodical. She had to be, or pr
iceless art got ruined. Her personal life, on the other hand, was the result of spending her life as a middle child, unnoticed and eager for anyone to pay attention to her. When a man flattered her, Maddy jumped, often without thought, always trying to be something she wasn’t. She overlooked the bad in heartfelt attempts to make the relationship work, and then when he inevitably walked away, she was left wondering what was wrong with her. That always led to bad rebounds, like the Christmas party incident Cash had mentioned the previous night.
She stole a glance sideways. He was probably the only man she knew who’d witnessed the real Madeline Cardinale. She’d never felt the need to pretend around him. She was usually too busy being pissed as hell.
“How’re the feet?” he asked out of the blue.
Maddy jerked, wondering if he’d caught her looking at him. “Better than my head,” she admitted.
His light eyes flickered over her face, the curve of his half-smile warm. “You know, that old saying about the hair of the dog—”
“No. No, no, no. No hair, no dog, no deceptive little shots that make me want to spork my eyeballs.” She shuddered. “Tonight’s going to be about two-stepping, not twelve-stepping, even if I have to dance with every guy in the place to do it.”
For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something about that, but the smooth glide of the car to the curb stopped him from talking. More specifically, the looming form of the other bouncer—what had Cash said his name was? Something Italian—on the sidewalk seemed to now have his attention.
Cash was frowning as the other man stepped forward to get the door. “What’s wrong, Gino?” he asked as he climbed out.
Gino. Gotta remember that one.
“Mr. Lombardi wants to see the two of you.” He jerked his head toward the club. “In the front.” When Maddy slid out of the car, he turned his dark gaze toward her and gave her a shy smile. “Evening, Maddy.”