Two Lives in Waltz Time

by Vivien Dean

  The song ended too quickly, but before they could break apart, the band launched into another number, just as slow, just as simple for her to follow. She didn’t risk looking at him, instead keeping her eyes on the others in the room. Everybody watched them. Logic told her it was because the night was supposed to be the Cash and Maddy Show, but she’d never spent so much time as the center of attention before. It was disconcerting.

  Almost as disconcerting as liking it so much.

  The hours flew by.

  Most of it was a blur, including the current conversation she was having with yet another guy she had absolutely no idea how to identify. Her face hurt from smiling so much, but it was a good kind of an ache, from a night that had been more fun than she’d had in ages. Nearly non-stop dancing, excellent food, and even—and this one was the kicker—good company.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Maddy saw Cash laughing and talking over by the bar. Until Gino had pulled him aside, Cash hadn’t left her all night, refusing to let anyone else dance with her, dubbing it his fiancé right to be her sole partner for the night. Even Mr. Lombardi had been brushed off. He had scowled at the pair of them as he’d stepped away, but she got the distinct feeling that his fear of Cash was more compelling than his desire for her.

  “Maybe you should let me dance with him,” Maddy had said quietly. “He’s our boss, after all. We can’t go messing things up here before we figure out how to get back.”

  His eyes had been inscrutable as they locked on hers. “No man in his right mind would share you, especially tonight of all nights. And we’re supposed to be head over heels, remember? You really want the locals to think you can’t stand dancing with me?”

  She hadn’t been able to reply, the sudden rush of heat in her cheeks visible testimony to the bewildering emotions bouncing around her head. The silence that cloaked their dance lasted only for a moment, before Cash was leaning forward, his cheek just barely touching hers as his mouth found her ear.

  “I thought of another one you probably haven’t heard,” he’d murmured. “There once was a fella named Fritz…”

  And she’d laughed. Laughed at his dirty limericks, at his frighteningly accurate impression of Mr. Lombardi, at his dry commentary about the other girls in the club. For a while there, she’d actually forgotten where she was and who she was with, so lost in her own personal whirlwind that all the extraneous details slipped away. None of it mattered. None of the animosity was important any more.

  Then it was three o’clock, and Maddy was wishing the night didn’t have to end.

  “…gone ahead and taken all the gifts out to the car,” a man she didn’t recognize was saying.

  Her head snapped back to stare at him and Sammy standing near the door. “Gifts?” she asked. “There’s gifts?”

  “Well, yeah,” Sammy said. “But Lola thought you’d rather open them at home.”

  “More private there and all.” The unknown man’s pocked face spread into a leer. “Plus it’s easier if you get something you want to use right away.”

  She laughed nervously, inching her way backwards, and was relieved when the band started playing again. “I thought they were done for the night,” she said, grateful for the diversion.

  “Last dance,” the stranger explained.

  Maddy stiffened as he held out his hand to her, silently asking for her permission to take her out onto the floor. “I better get Cash, then,” she said with a too-bright smile. “My last dances are always reserved for him, you know.”

  She turned, only to bump straight into the man in question. His hands shot out to grab her elbows, steadying her against him as his eyes searched hers, and her smile faded under his intense gaze. He’d heard every word.

  “Shall we?” Cash murmured.

  She didn’t answer, just followed him onto the dance floor where they instinctively slid into each other’s arms. Her heart thudded, and she pressed her cheek to his lapel in an attempt to control it, feeling the heat of his body merge with that still flaming her cheeks.

  “There’s presents,” Maddy said softly. “For us. To unwrap back at the apartment.”

  “Considering this group, that should be interesting.” His chest rose and fell with his even breathing, wrapping them in comfortable silence as he guided her around the floor. When he spoke again, it almost surprised her.

  “I hope it hasn’t been too tough for you tonight.”

  His voice was so low, she wasn’t even sure she’d heard him correctly and pulled back so she could look up into his face. “Why would you say that? Tonight’s been fun.”

  He wasn’t meeting her gaze, instead concentrating on something over her head. “Because in spite of the fact that we’re in this together, I know you wish it was anybody but me here with you. You think I don’t know how much I wind you up? I might be an asshole, but I’m not stupid. I know how you feel about me.”

  Her first instinct was to tell him he was wrong. But as she settled back against his chest, Maddy knew the real reason she refrained from doing so. There was truth in what Cash said. They’d spent the past two years of their lives making each other miserable. It was naïve to think two nights of playing dress-up could change that.

  It could, however, force her to re-evaluate just why it was he could get to her so easily.

  “You’re not as smart as you think you are,” Maddy said.

  For a second, his body went tight, though their rhythm of the dance never faltered. “No,” Cash finally said. “I don’t suppose I am.”

  They finished the waltz in silence.

  The car rolled to a stop in front of their building, jolting Maddy from the light doze she’d settled into during the ride home. Neither she nor Cash had said a word to each other since leaving the Rising Sun, and while she’d felt his eyes on her more than once along the way, Maddy had deliberately kept hers closed to him, her temple pressed lightly to the cool window. She needed to think, to try to assimilate everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. Her mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions, confusing images, ambiguity piled upon ambiguity, and looking at Cash only made it all worse. She needed this time to sort it out.

  Her body betrayed her, however, by falling asleep mid-argument, and Maddy blinked against the darkness that saturated the car’s interior. Beside her, Cash opened his door and hopped out onto the street, leaving her alone yet again. She sighed. He’d been acting strangely ever since the last dance, distant and aloof. She actually missed the sarcastic charmer from the party, but there was no way on earth she would tell him that.

  Before she could reach for the handle, her door opened, and Maddy looked up in surprise to see Cash holding it for her, his right hand proffered in aid of her alighting. His face was in shadows, eyes hidden in spite of the streetlamps’ dim illumination, but a small smile canted his full mouth. Taking his hand, she slid from her seat and joined him on the walk, waiting for him to be the first to break the contact.

  “Go on upstairs,” Cash said, his voice low and modulated. His fingers glided along her arm to cup her elbow. “We’ll bring up the gifts.” With a gentle nudge, he guided her toward the front door.

  She desperately wanted to look back, to give him one last glance before entering the building, but Maddy bit back the instinct, concentrating instead on steadying the pulse that had decided to suddenly pound out of control. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head to nod in greeting to the night doorman and wordlessly disappeared inside the foyer.

  Cash watched as Maddy walked away, the delicate trail of her hair along her spine falling ever lower when she looked up to say good night to the doorman. Unexpected jealousy rose in his throat, and his muscles bunched into knots at the notion she’d rather look at the stranger than at him. Just when he thought he had her all figured out, she turned it around and left him even more puzzled than before. He’d finally decided she was putting on the best of acts in order to get through this ordeal, when she’d confessed to enjoying herself dur
ing the last dance. Cash didn’t know which was the real thing any more.

  “She’s probably just tired,” the chauffeur offered, standing at the rear of the car to open the trunk. “Everything’ll be cherry once you both get a good night’s sleep.”

  Cash stood back, taking the bags as they were passed to him, his gaze stealing to the upper windows of the apartment building. “You married?”

  “Yep. Over twenty years now.”

  “Ever wonder what in hell you’ve got yourself into?”

  “Every single day.”

  The two men shared a smile, and Cash relaxed for the first time since leaving the club. “I can’t help but think this would be a doddle if everybody else would just disappear. Just me and Maddy. No more games.”

  “You’re not saying anything men haven’t been saying about dames since time began.” The chauffeur eased the trunk shut without dropping any of the parcels in his arms. “But I don’t think you need to be worrying about Miss Cardinale. You two are in it for the long haul.”

  Cash snorted. “I think Maddy would have a few choice words to say about that.”

  “Probably.” The two men began walking into the building. “But doesn’t make it any less true.”

  They chatted about nothing as they rode the elevator up, stopping only when they reached the eerily silent apartment. The bedroom door was closed, and rather than wake her up, Cash took the packages from the chauffeur in silence, nodding and smiling when they were done. The driver tipped his hat and left with a small bow, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair, Cash began emptying the bags onto the coffee table. When he heard the door open behind him, he steeled his limbs to keep from turning around to look at her.

  “I think I owe you an apology.”

  Only such an unexpected declaration could break through his resolve. Cash stared at her, standing against the outline of the bedroom doorway. She had slipped out of the ball gown and into a long satin robe, the belt cinched tightly around her waist, the pale pink accenting the slight blush in her cheeks. The rest of the pins were gone from her hair as well, allowing it to fall in soft waves around her shoulders. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful.

  When he didn’t respond, Maddy took a step toward him. “I should’ve known you’d milk this,” she said, annoyed. “The Marcel Marceau routine is just to get me to repeat myself, right?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping it would hide his erection. “What did you do now?” he said, matching her tone.

  Her jaw snapped shut, eyes flashing. “Never mind.”

  Cash crossed the room and grabbed her arm before she could disappear back into the bedroom. “Oh, no, you don’t.” His grip tightened when she tried to struggle, forcing him to pull her closer. “Why is it we get along just fine when we’ve got an audience, but as soon as it’s just you and me, your—”

  “If the words inner bitch come out of your mouth—”

  “How else would you describe it?”

  Her mouth pressed into a full line as she glared at him. “Because all of that other stuff is just pretend. None of it is real. Not you being nice, or treating me like a human being, or acting like you could actually care.”

  “And I suppose this isn’t real, either, then?”

  He kissed her before she could open her mouth to speak again. This wasn’t the tease of his earlier caresses and it wasn’t the show of tasting her the night before. This was a deliberate attack on her senses, his strong hands cupping her face to keep her still, his tongue and mouth commanding her to respond to him. At the first hint of her lips parting, Cash plunged deeper, swallowing her sweetness as he explored, thrilling in the moan that rose from her throat. His hunger answered it. He’d wanted this for far too long.

  She was panting when they broke apart, blue eyes wide and incredulous. Her swollen mouth begged to be kissed again, but Cash gathered the rest of his resolve and let her go, taking a step away as much for his sake as hers.

  “So, where’s your audience now?” he asked, gesturing toward the empty apartment. “Real isn’t perfect, Maddy. It’s passionate, and sometimes cruel, and quite often the last thing you would ever expect. It most certainly doesn’t ask that you put on the show that you think others want to see. It’s never asked you to be anything but what you are, and in case the champagne is making your thought processes a tad slow tonight, yes, I am referring to how I’ve always regarded you.”

  “Why would you say that?” she asked, breathless. “You don’t even know who I really am.”

  Cash chuckled. “Well, that’s a bit of irony, isn’t it? Because the way I see it, you’re the one not seeing the whole truth here.” He had to fold his arms across his chest, tucking his hands in his armpits, in order not to reach out to her again. “That woman who sat with me tonight…the one who stood up for herself to strangers, even being in a world she’s probably convinced should have her in a padded cell? The one who had the room wrapped around her little finger simply by letting herself go and having a little fun? That’s the real Madeline Cardinale. She’s everything I said she was. More, even.” He turned on his heel and began heading for the second bedroom. Immediately, he heard the soft pad of her feet across the floor, and then her small hand jerked him to a halt.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Maddy demanded.

  Looking down, he met the blaze of her eyes and, for a split second, wanted desperately to yield to his baser judgment. The heat of her fingers burned through his shirtsleeve, adding to the fire already in his skin, and it was with extreme difficulty that he reached up and uncurled them from his elbow.

  “To bed,” Cash said, his voice deceptively calm. “And I suggest you do the same.”

  “You expect me to sleep now?”

  His smile was slow and knowing. “Did I say anything about sleep?” Retreating before his resolve failed him again, Cash only looked back once there was enough distance between them for him to be sure he wouldn’t change his mind. “Think about what I said, Maddy. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Closing the door behind him was the hardest thing he’d done in a very long time.

  Chapter Eight

  He dreamt of those last few days in England. That was hardly new, Cash had had nightmares about those final events leading to his self-imposed exile before. What made these different was that this time, he wasn’t alone.

  This time, Maddy was at his side.

  The sky was a heavy pewter, low and thick as it blanketed the countryside. He’d always loved how protected it made him feel, as if the cloud cover shielded the earth and her occupants from something far more dangerous than a few raindrops. Now, though, Cash merely found it oppressive. Suffocating. Judging him when he simply wanted to be.

  His feet were bare, the prickly grass wet between his toes, and the hem of his black jeans was soaked from walking in the rain-drenched morning. As was always the case, his shirt hung in tatters from his muscled shoulders, singed and charred where the last fight had destroyed it, while the smell of smoke clogged his nostrils.

  “No offense, but you look like shit,” Maddy said with a wry smile.

  He stopped in his tracks to look at the small woman at his side. She seemed completely untouched by the elements, her golden hair loose and flowing down her back, a healthy tan enriching her skin. A gauzy skirt swirled around her legs, but there wasn’t a breeze to be felt. Even her eyes glowed, though Cash was fairly certain that was due to amusement more than anything else.

  When he didn’t speak, she laughed and resumed walking again.

  It was odd, falling into step next to her. Normally, he ached in this landscape, his body bruised just as surely as his spirit. But this time was different. As they walked along, the sky above brightened, not clearing, but thinning, weighing less upon his shoulders with every meter they covered. Cash reached and took her hand, oddly relieved when she didn’t fight the gesture.

/>   “You have to come clean, you know,” she said. “All this charm’s only going to get you so far.”

  “I’ve said enough.”

  “Have you?” She stopped, tilting her head back to stare up into the sky. “Now who isn’t being real?”

  His eyes shot open, and Cash found himself staring up at the ceiling, the red satin sheets cool against his back and entangled around his bare legs. So much for waking up to images of a naked Maddy. But at least he’d finally managed to get some sleep.

  The clock on the nightstand said one-thirty. Rubbing at his eyes, Cash sat up, kicking away the pillows and comforter as he shook off the last vestiges of his dream. He knew what his conscience was trying to tell him, but that didn’t mean he liked it. When he’d mentioned talking in the morning, he’d just meant for Maddy to understand that all he wanted was for her to stop trying to hide from her fears. It wasn’t supposed to be about anything more. It couldn’t be. She would get hurt if he let her all the way in.

  It didn’t matter that he was half in love with the idea of letting Maddy do just that.

  Grabbing his robe, Cash cinched the tie around his waist before venturing out into the living room. All of his clothes, not to mention the bathroom, were off the other bedroom. The history the painting had created for them obviously meant for this particular bedroom to be used for more recreational purposes, but they’d made a tacit agreement yesterday to divvy the rooms between them. He needed to remember to move some of his things over if he didn’t want to keep intruding on Maddy. There was no telling how long it would take Kate to figure out how to get him out, and with Maddy his only ally on this side, Cash couldn’t afford to piss her off any more than he already had.