Dance to the Piper (17 page)

His eyes came back to hers, amused and intrigued. "As a matter of fact, yes. One wonders if you aren't taking your role of the Merry Widow a bit too seriously."

"You didn't say that while I was stripping for you," she pointed out, then linked her hands behind his neck. "I discovered G-strings when I was researching for the part."

"Researching?" He started to kiss her, then drew back again. "Exactly what does that mean?"

"Just what it sounds like. I couldn't go into a role like this without doing some research."

"You went to strip joints." Caught between fury and frustration, he took her chin firmly. "Are you crazy? Do you know what can happen in places like that?"

"Have you had a lot of experience?"

"Yes—No. Damn it, Maddy, don't change the subject."

"I didn't think I was." She smiled at him again. "Reed, I had to get inside Mary a bit. I figured the best way to do it was to talk to some strippers. I met some fascinating people. There was one called Lotta Oomph."

"Lotta—"

"Oomph," Maddy finished. "Her gimmick was poodles. See, she had five poodles, and—"

"I don't think I want to hear it." Though he wanted badly to laugh, he held her firmly. "Maddy, you've no business going into that kind of place."

"Don't be silly. I worked in places not much different than that when I was twelve. It's all fantasy, Reed. For the most part, all you have are people trying to make a living. And talking with some of the women really helped me understand Mary better."

"Mary is a fantasy," he corrected. "What goes on in those places, what can go on in those places, is hard reality."

"I understand reality very well, Reed." She lifted a hand to his cheek, touched that he would be concerned. "I'm not saying stripping's an admirable profession, or that every stripper's another Gypsy Rose Lee, but most of the people I talked with took a great deal of pride in their act."

"I don't intend to argue the morals or the social significance of exotic dancing, Maddy. I just don't like the idea of you going into one of those joints downtown."

"Well, I don't intend to make a habit of it." She lowered her lashes, trailing a finger down his chest. "I wouldn't mind seeing the poodles again."

"Maddy."

The lashes came up, revealing laughter. "They were pretty amazing."

"So are you." He ran a hand over her hip where the thin string rested. "And what's the story on this?"

"Comfort." She began to nibble quietly on his earlobe. "Every woman in America should wear a G-string."

"You always wear one?" He spread his hand over her, feeling soft skin, firm muscle.

"Mmm. Under street clothes."

"That day we went to see the exhibition of Victorian architecture. You had on those baggy khaki slacks that looked like army surplus."

"They are army surplus."

"You had one of these on underneath?"

"Mm-hmmm."

"Do you know what might have happened if I'd known?"

Content, she rubbed her cheek against his. "What?"

"Right there in front of the model of Queen Victoria's summer home?"

The giggle bubbled out as he scooped her up. "What?"

"With the family of four from New Jersey right behind us?"

"Oh, God." She wrapped her arms around him. "Maybe we can go back this afternoon."

"Not a chance." He buried his face in her throat.

He wasn't supposed to feel like laughing when he had a naked woman beneath him. Lovemaking was a serious business, to be respected and treated with caution and care. He wasn't supposed to feel like a teenager romping in a back seat on a darkened road. He was a grown man, experienced, aware.

But when he rolled over on the bed with her, the laughter was there. It was there when he held her hard against him, when she snuggled into him, when he touched, when she offered. His delight in her was so great, so immense, that laughter seemed the only answer. She accepted it so beautifully, answering with laughter of her own. Even later, not so very much later, when laughter turned to sighs, the joy wasn't dimmed.

There was so much love in her. Maddy wondered that it didn't burst out and light up the room. Every moment she was with him, he grew just a little brighter. Every time he looked at her, his eyes seemed to shimmer.

He was so kind, so gentle, so thorough. So desperate with need for her. If she hadn't already given him her heart, she would have done so then just as freely.

How could she have known there was so much to discover? So much pleasure, so many sensations. She'd never shown that much generosity to another, but with Reed, it was easy.

She knew her body intimately, its strengths, its weaknesses. How strange it was to discover she had known so little about its needs. When his mouth closed over her breast, she felt incredible sensations tighten inside her: pleasure, pain, desperation. A stroke of his hand down her thigh made her shudder. A brush of his lips at her throat made her moan. The body she disciplined so religiously became a morass of needs, of confusion, of anticipation, when he pressed against her.

Touching him made her weak. He was only flesh, blood, bone, but stroking her hands over him made her spirit soar. He was hers. She told herself it didn't matter that it was only for the moment. It didn't matter that it was only pretend. He was hers as long as they were flesh to flesh, mouth to mouth.

He needed her. She could feel the rush of excitement move through him. If, even for one brief moment, he untied the bonds on his emotions, he could love her. She was sure of it. There was more than passion when he held her, more than heat and lust. There was caring and compassion. When his lips brushed over hers, when he allowed the kiss to deepen slowly until they were both swimming in it, she knew that he was on the edge of giving her what she wanted so badly to give him.

Love. It healed, it soothed, it protected. She wanted to tell him how wonderful it was to feel so irrevocably bound to another. She wanted to offer him a glimpse of what it was to know there was someone there for him, someone who would always be there.

His skin was hot and damp. His hands lost their gentleness degree by degree as her excitement grew. She was wild, hungry, avid. Her energy seemed boundless and pushed him farther and farther, to the borders of his control.

The stereo blared on. Outside, the heat rose in waves. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but them and what they could give each other.

She rolled over him, arms and legs snaking out to hold him close. Agile and desperate, she arched to take him into her. When their sanity shattered, then reformed, they were still together.

Limp, drained, glowing, Maddy lowered herself to him. Her skin was damp and seemed to fuse naturally with his. She could hear his heartbeat through the dull buzzing in her head. When his hand came to stroke her back, she closed her eyes and surrendered everything.

"Oh, Reed, I love you."

At first she was too caught up in her own dream to feel the stiffening of his body beneath hers. She was too giddy to notice the quick tensing of his fingers on her back. But gradually her mind cleared. Maddy kept her eyes closed a moment longer, knowing that now the words had been said they couldn't be taken back.

"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.

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"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."