Dance to the Piper: The O'Hurleys Read online

  But it was unlikely Selby would pay for his actions. Did anyone?

  Rising, he checked the contents of his briefcase. It was true that he had come into a business that had already been well established. He hadn’t had to hustle his way to a label. If he had, would he have scrambled for a shortcut? Because he didn’t know, couldn’t be sure, Reed decided to leave the investigation up to the RIAA. He’d let the dust settle. It would be a long, probably ugly meeting, Reed thought as he stepped out of his office.

  “I won’t be back today, Hannah.”

  “Good luck, Mr. Valentine. You had a few calls while you were talking to that man.”

  His mouth twitched a little at her tone. “Anything important?”

  “No, nothing that can’t wait. You did get a call from Miss O’Hurley.” Hannah sent him an entirely-too-innocent smile and hoped for a reaction. The fact that he hesitated told Hannah everything she needed to know.

  “If she calls back, tell her …”

  “Yes, Mr. Valentine?”

  “Tell her I’ll get back to her.”

  Disappointment ruled for a moment. “Ah, Mr. Valentine?”

  “Yes?”

  She could see the impatience, but pressed just a little further. “I wondered if you were going to Philadelphia for the opening or if perhaps you’d like me to send flowers.”

  He thought of the meeting he had to deal with, of the work that couldn’t be ignored. He thought of Maddy’s face and the confusion that had been dogging him for days. Her feelings, his; his needs, hers. Were they really the same, or were they so totally opposed that they could never come together?

  “My father’s going. If I don’t, we’ll be represented.”

  “I see,” Hannah said primly, and stacked papers on her desk.

  “I’ll take care of the flowers myself.”

  “See that you do,” she muttered as he went out the glass doors.

  * * *

  It had gone well. Maddy dropped crosswise on her bed and let the rehearsal play back in her head. She wouldn’t jinx it by saying it was perfect, but she could think it. As long as she thought it very quietly.

  Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night at this time, she thought with a little skip of the pulse, she’d be in her dressing room. Twenty-four hours. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. How in the hell was she going to get through the next twenty-four hours?

  He hadn’t called back. Maddy shifted her head so that she could look at the phone again. They had only spoken to each other a handful of times since she’d left for Philadelphia, and every time they had, she’d sensed he was trying to distance himself from her. Maybe he’d succeeded.

  A dancer was no stranger to pain. You felt it, acknowledged it, then went on and worked around it. Heartache might be a little more difficult to deal with than a pulled muscle, but she would go on. Survive. She’d always prided herself on being a survivor.

  Her family was here. Rousing herself from the bed, Maddy went to the closet. She would change, put on her happiest face and take her family out on the town. Not everyone was as lucky as she, Maddy reminded herself as she stripped out of her sweats. She had a family who loved her, who stood behind her, who thought she was just fine the way she was.

  She had a career that was on the rise. Even if she lost her grip on the brass ring, no one could take her dancing away from her. If she had to go back and play the clubs again, do regional theater, summer stock, she’d still be happy.

  Maddy O’Hurley didn’t need a man to complete her life, because her life was complete. She didn’t want a knight on a white charger to scoop her up and take her away from all this. She liked where she was, who she was.

  If Reed backed out of her life, she could— She leaned back against the closet door with a sigh. She could very possibly be the most miserable person alive. No, she didn’t need him to save or protect her. She needed him to love her, and though she didn’t think he could understand, she needed him to let her love him.

  When she heard the knock on her door, Maddy shook herself out of what was dangerously close to depression. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Abby.”

  Leaving her robe untied, Maddy dashed to the door. Abby stood there, looking fresh and quietly lovely in a slim white dress. “Oh, you’re all ready. I haven’t even started.”

  “I dressed early so I could come down and talk.”

  “Before you say anything, I have to tell you how wonderful you look. Maybe it’s Dylan, maybe it’s the country air, but you’ve never looked better.”

  “Maybe it’s pregnancy.”

  “What?”

  “I found out right before we left home.” She took Maddy by the shoulders, looking as though she could take on the world. “I’m going to have another baby.”

  “Oh, God. Oh, Abby, that’s great. I’m going to cry.”

  “Okay. Let’s sit down while you do.”

  Maddy searched fruitlessly in her robe pocket for tissue. “How does Dylan feel about it?”

  “Stunned.” Abby laughed as they sat together on the bed. Her eyes were soft. The hint of rose under her skin enhanced the curve of her cheeks. She pushed her wavy blond hair behind her back before she took Maddy’s hands. “We’re going to make the announcement at dinner tonight.”

  “And you’re going to start taking better care of yourself. No more mucking out the stalls. I mean it, Abby,” she continued before her sister could speak. “If I have to lecture Dylan, I will.”

  “You don’t have to. He’d like to wrap me up in tissue for the next seven months or so. We weren’t made for that, Maddy, you know we weren’t.”

  “Maybe not, but you can ease off.” She threw her arms around her sister and squeezed. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “I know. Now I want you to talk to me.” Firm, Abby straightened her back. “Chantel called me and said you were making yourself crazy over some man.”

  “She would,” Maddy muttered. “I’m not making myself crazy over anything. It’s not my style.”

  Abby slipped off her shoes. “Who is he?”

  “His name’s Reed Valentine.”

  “Valentine Records?”

  “That’s right. How do you know?”

  “I still keep up with the industry a little. And Dylan worked with him on a book some time ago.”

  “Yes, Reed mentioned it.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. I met him, I fell in love with him, I made a fool of myself” She tried to keep her voice careless and light, and nearly succeeded. “Now I’m sitting here staring at the phone waiting for him to call. Like a teenager.”

  “You never had much of a chance to be a teenager when you were sixteen.”

  “I don’t care much for it. He’s a good man, Abby. Kind and gentle, though he’d never see that in himself. Can I tell you about him?”

  “You know you can.”

  She started at the beginning and left nothing out. It never occurred to her that she was betraying Reed’s privacy. In truth, she wasn’t. Whatever she said to Abby or to Chantel was like telling her thoughts to herself.

  Abby listened in her calm, serene way while Maddy told her everything; the love, the compromises, the trauma that had marred Reed’s childhood and affected his life. Because they were so in tune with each other, Abby hurt when her sister did.

  “So you see, no matter how much I love him, I can’t change what happened to him or how he feels.”

  “I’m sorry.” They shifted together, with Abby’s arm around Maddy’s shoulder. “I know how painful it is. I can only tell you that I know absolutely that if you love hard enough you can work miracles. Dylan didn’t want to love me. The truth is, I didn’t want to love him, either.” It was easy to look back and remember. “We’d both made a decision never to risk that kind of involvement again. It was a very logical decision made by two intelligent people.” She smiled a little, leaning her head against Maddy’s. “Love has a way of wiping out everything but what real
ly matters.”

  “I’ve tried to tell myself that. But Abby, he wasn’t dishonest with me. Right from the start he made it clear that he didn’t want to get involved. It was to be a very casual relationship, which of course isn’t a relationship at all. I’m the one who stepped over the line, so I’m the one who had to make the adjustments.”

  “That’s also very logical. What happened to your optimism, Maddy?”

  “I left it in a drawer at home.”

  “Then it’s time you pulled it out again. This isn’t like you, mooning around, looking at the dark side. You were the one who always planted her feet and refused to budge until things worked out your way.”

  “This is different.”

  “No, it’s not. Don’t you know how much I’ve always wanted to be as confident in myself as you are? I always envied that quality in you, Maddy, when day after day I went on, afraid of failing.”

  “Oh, Abby.”

  “It’s true, and you can’t let me down now. If you love him, really love him, then you’ve got to plant your feet until he can admit he loves you, too.”

  “He has to feel it first, Abby.”

  “I think he does.” She gave her sister a quick shake. “Go back over everything you’ve just told me, but this time listen. The man’s crazy about you, Maddy, he just hasn’t been able to admit it to you or to himself.”

  Hope, never far beneath the surface, began to stir again. “I’ve tried to believe that.”

  “Don’t try, do. I’ve had the worst a relationship can offer, Maddy. Now I’m having a taste of the best.” Instinctively she rested a hand on her stomach, where a new life slept. “Don’t give up. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and watch you wait for him to toss you a few crumbs. Get dressed,” Abby ordered. “We’re going to celebrate.”

  “Bossy.” Maddy grinned as she walked to her closet. “You always were bossy.”

  * * *

  Reed let the phone ring a dozen times before he hung up. It was nearly midnight. Where the hell was she? Why wasn’t she in bed, resting up for the next day? The one thing he knew about her, was absolutely certain of, was that Maddy trained for a part as rigorously as an athlete. Training meant diet, exercise, attitude and rest. So where the hell was she?

  In Philadelphia, he thought, disgusted as he walked to the windows and back again. She was miles away in Philadelphia, in her own world, with her own people. She could be doing anything, with anyone. And he had no right to question her.

  The hell with rights, he told himself as he picked up the phone again. She was the one who spoke of love, of commitments, of trust. And she was the one not answering her phone.

  He could still remember how disappointed she’d looked when he’d told her he couldn’t be sure he’d be there for opening night. He’d had the damn RIAA meeting hanging over his head, and he still couldn’t judge the backlash from it. There was bound to be a scandal now that the investigation had been approved. A scandal would affect everyone, every label, every record company executive, even the ones who’d kept their noses clean.

  In the morning he was likely to have dozens of calls, from reporters, radio stations, consulting firms, his own employees. He couldn’t very well drop everything and go off to watch the opening of a play.

  Not just any play, he thought as the phone rang on and on. Maddy’s play. No, his play, Reed reminded himself as he slammed the phone down again. Valentine Records was backing it and, therefore, had a duty to protect its interests. His father would he there, that would be enough. But he was president of Valentine, Reed reminded himself.

  Was he excusing himself from going or from remaining behind?

  It really didn’t matter. None if it really mattered at all. What mattered was why Maddy wasn’t answering the phone at midnight.

  She had a right to her own life.

  The hell she did.

  Reed ran a hand through his hair. He was acting like a fool. Trying to calm himself, he walked over to pour himself a drink, and the plant caught his eye. There were new green shoots spreading out, young and healthy. The old, yellowed leaves had fallen off and been swept away. Compelled, he reached out to stroke one of the smooth, heart-shaped leaves.

  A minor miracle? Perhaps, but it was only a plant, after all. A very stubborn plant, he conceded. One that had refused to die when it should have, one that had responded wholeheartedly to the proper care and attention.

  So he had luck with plants. Deliberately, he turned away and stared at his empty apartment. It wouldn’t be wise to make too much of its having been Maddy’s. Just as it wasn’t wise to make too much out of the fact that she wasn’t in her room. He had other things to think about, other things to do. But he left the drink untouched.

  * * *

  The room was pitch-dark when knocking disturbed her sleep. Maddy rolled over, snuggled into the pillow and prepared to ignore it. When it continued, she shook herself awake, half believing it was a cue.

  It was the middle of the night, she reminded herself with a huge yawn. She had hours yet before she had to step out onstage. But the knocking was definitely at her door and getting louder every minute.

  “All right!” she called out irritably, and rubbed her eyes open. If one of the dancers had the jitters, she was going to send her back to her own room to sleep it off. She couldn’t afford to be a pillar of strength at 3:00 a.m.

  “Just hang on, will you?” Muttering, she found the light switch, then hunted up a robe. She unlocked her door, then pulled it open until the chain snapped into place. “Now look … Reed!” Instantly awake, Maddy slammed the door in his face and fumbled with the chain. When she pulled it open again, she jumped into his arms. “You’re here! I didn’t think you’d be here. I’d nearly gotten used to the idea that you weren’t coming. No, I hadn’t,” she corrected immediately, and found his lips with hers. She felt it—the need, the tension. “Reed, what are you doing here at three in the morning?”

  “Do you mind if I come in?”

  “Of course not.” She stepped back and waited while he tossed a small overnight bag on a chair. “Is something wrong?” she began, then tugged at his shirt. “Oh, God, is something wrong with your father?”

  “No, my father’s fine. He should be here tomorrow.”

  Her fingers relaxed but stayed where they were. “You’re upset.”

  “I’m fine.” He moved back from her and walked around the room. She’d already made it her own, he noticed, with tights, socks, shoes strewn here and there. The dresser was a rubble of bottles and pots and scraps of paper. She’d spilled a bit of powder and hadn’t bothered to dust it off. He ran a finger through it, and her scent clung to his skin. “I couldn’t reach you tonight.”

  “Oh? I was out having dinner with—”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.” Furious, though only with himself, he whirled around.

  She pushed the hair away from her face and wished she understood him. It was three in the morning, she reminded herself. He was obviously edgy. She was tired. It would be best to take it slow.

  “All right. Reed, you’re not going to tell me you drove all the way to Philadelphia because I didn’t answer the phone.” Even as he stared at her, he saw puzzlement turn to humor and humor to pleasure. “You did?” Going to him, she slipped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “That’s about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t know what to say. I—” But when she looked up, she saw it in his eyes. All the pleasure drained from hers as she backed away.

  “You thought I was with someone else.” Her voice was very quiet, the words very distinct. “You thought I was sleeping with someone else, so you came to see for yourself.” A bitter taste rose in her throat. It was a taste she’d rarely sampled. She gestured toward the empty bed, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Don’t.” He grabbed her wrist before she could turn away, because he’d already seen the tears welling in her eyes. “That wasn’t it. Or—damn it, maybe
it was part of it, part of what went through my mind. You’d have a perfect right.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled her wrist away and sat on the edge of the bed, but she couldn’t stop the tears. “Now that you’ve satisfied yourself, why don’t you go? I need my sleep.”

  “I know.” He ran both hands though his hair before he sat beside her. “I know that, and when it was late and I couldn’t reach you, I wondered.” When her eyes lifted to his, he cursed himself. “All right, I did wonder if you were with someone else. I don’t have any hold on you, Maddy.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “I know that, too. Just give me a minute.” Anticipating her, Reed took both her hands before she could refuse. “Please. I did wonder, and I hated the idea. Then I worried. The whole time I was driving here I worried that something had happened to you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. What could happen?”

  “Nothing. Anything.” His hands tightened on hers in frustration. “I just had to be here. To see you.”

  The anger was draining, but she didn’t know what would rise up to replace it. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now what?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “No.” She pulled away again and rose. “I want you to tell me. I want you to look at me right now and tell me what it is you want.”

  “I want you.” He rose slowly. “I want you to let me stay. Not to make love with you, Maddy. Just to be here.”

  She could easily allow the hurt to overwhelm her. She could just as easily toss her hurt feelings aside and reach out to him. With a smile, she stepped closer. “You don’t want to make love with me?”

  “I want to make love with you until we both collapse.” Shaken because it was true, he reached out to touch her cheek. “But you need your sleep.”