The Forever Dream (4 page)

"Yes, there was something different tonight," he said, his voice gentle. "Now, go to sleep, Nina."

She sighed happily as she curled up against him, her lids closing drowsily.

His hand continued to stroke her hair even after her breathing had deepened and he knew she was sleeping. His eyes were alert and wide awake in his dark face. Something different? Yes, despite all his efforts there had been something different tonight. Tania Orlinovs hold

on his emotions was stronger than he'd imagined. There was no question in his mind now that she was going to belong to him. Only the timing was in doubt.

He was suddenly as impatient and restless as a boy. He didn't want to be wise and discreet. He didn't want to wait until there wasn't an object or a person on the face of the earth he couldn't have just by lifting a finger. For a little while it was probably going to be almost like being a god, he thought distastefully. He'd never wanted that kind of power. All he'd ever wanted was to be left alone so he could work in peace. He wasn't worried about the loneliness that degree of power would bring—he was used to that. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't conscious of that aloneness, which was now a part of him. No, it was the boredom that he feared the most. Without challenge a man's mind and spirit could wither and die even if his body lived on.

He shrugged restlessly, carefully removing his arm from about Nina Bartletts shoulders and shifting himself away from the warmth of her body. Despite his impatience he'd have to wait for his pleasure. Tania Orlinov would still be there for him in six months' time. To take her now wouldn't only be unwise, it could possibly constitute an actual physical danger for both of them.

It was an entirely sane, prudent decision, typical of his usual cool, analytical approach to life. That being the case, it was entirely illogical for him to lie awake for the next several hours, his silver eyes gazing into the darkness and his memory replaying the hauntingly melodic strains of the Piper.

Chapter 2

“A hundred thousand dollars?" Tania gasped, her eyes widening with shock. "That's what you said, isn't it?" She glanced down at the card in her hand. "Mr. Betz."

He nodded. "We realize your time is very valuable, Miss Orlinov. We expect to have to compensate you accordingly."

"I see," Tania said slowly as she sank into the padded straight chair before her dressing table. Her dark eyes were bright with curiosity as she motioned the funny little man into a wing chair across the dressing room. "How very interesting. And what am I supposed to do to earn this hundred thousand dollars?"

Edward Betz sat down in the chair she'd indicated, his highly polished black shoes placed precisely in front of him. "It will be a relatively simple task. We just want you to act as companion to a gentleman for the next six weeks. We'll issue a certified check for half the amount in advance and the remainder at the completion of the assignment."

"Companion?" she echoed blankly. She absently wiped the nape of her neck with the hand towel draped around her shoulders. This interview was becoming increasingly bizarre. Her gaze traveled warily over her visitors conservatively dressed figure. There had been nothing in the manner of the man's approach to indicate he was something of a lunatic. That was the reason she'd invited him into her dressing room when he'd shown up after rehearsal this morning. But reasonable men didn't go around offering a hundred thousand dollars so casually. "What kind of companion are we speaking of, Mr. Betz? And why me?"

"It has to be you because the gentleman in question seems to find you totally fascinating, for some reason." He frowned, as if trying to puzzle it out. "No one else seems to be able to hold his interest. He requested video tapes of all your performances two weeks ago, and last weekend he came back to New York to see you dance." His lips tightened. "We knew then that measures would have to be taken to rectify the situation."

"I'm happy to know that I have such a devoted fan," Tania said lightly. "But I'm afraid I'm not available for private engagements, even when the inducement is so great. Your client will just have to be content with seeing my performances from the third row on the aisle."

"That's not possible." Betz's voice was clipped. "We can't permit him to return to New York." He scowled. "The remuneration is more than generous, but it's still open to negotiation. If we increase the amount, will you reconsider?"

"More than a hundred thousand dollars?" Her lips quirked. "I'm tempted to see just how high you'd go, Mr. Betz, but I feel I must warn you that as fantastic a performer as I undoubtedly am, you'd be grossly overpaying me."

Betz's face was expressionless. "Money is irrelevant in this case, Miss Orlinov. And it wasn't your skill as a dancer we had in mind."

"No?" She was puzzled. Then, as he continued to stare at her with the same bland look on his face, she understood. "You want me to go to bed with your client? You want me to be his mistress for the next six weeks?" It was as wildly unbelievable as the conversation that had gone before, but the funny little man nodded with perfect seriousness. It was too much for her, and she threw back her head and roared with laughter, her face alight, her dark eyes dancing. God, she was glad she'd consented to see this solemn little man, even if he was a bit crazy. She'd not enjoyed anything so much in a long time.

When she finally sobered enough to control herself, Ed Betz was still gazing at her with those expressionless, puppy-dog eyes and waiting patiently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Betz," she said, her lips still twitching. "I'm afraid I can't accept your client's offer. I make it a practice never to perform unless I can excel in a role." She cleared her throat to mask the laughter that persisted in bubbling. "In this case, I don't believe I have the required training for the job. I'm sure you'll be able to find someone else with far better qualifications if you make the effort."

He shook his head. "We've tried that," he said gloomily. "This isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, Miss Orlinov. I've considered several other possibilities, but I've come to the conclusion that it has to be you. How much more can I give you to make you change your mind? The sky's the limit."

She couldn't suppress the chuckle any longer. The man was absolutely priceless. She shook her head firmly as she stood up. "I'm afraid that my decision is final, Mr. Betz," she said gently. "You'll have to look elsewhere."

He must have stared at her for a full minute before he got reluctantly to his feet. "You're sure I can't persuade you to change your mind?" he asked with a frown. "We're prepared to pay a great deal of money, you know."

"I have enough money for all my needs at the

moment, Mr. Betz," she said solemnly, her dark eyes twinkling. "And having money is not really one of my top priorities. As I said, you'll have to find someone who makes a specialty of that sort of thing."

"That's regrettable," he said slowly. "Its going to make things much more complicated."

"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me now, Mr. Betz," she said softly. "I have an engagement for lunch." She waved her hand to indicate her leotard-clad figure. "And you can see that I still have to shower and dress. Thank you for dropping by." A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. "If I ever decide to change my vocation, I'll be sure to get in touch with you. Good luck in finding a replacement."

He was moving across the room to the door. "A replacement won't be possible," he muttered obstinately. "It has to be you, Miss Orlinov." The door closed softly behind him.

There was a lingering smile still on her face as Tania trailed him to the door and shot home the lock. She stripped off her leotard, slippers, and caramel-colored leg warmers before padding toward the adjoining bathroom. Lord, the man was peculiar. There was no way he could be for real, but it had been an interesting episode to brighten up a dull morning. She turned on the shower and tested the temperature quickly before stepping beneath the warm flow. It was one of the truly wonderful aspects of life that all manner of fascinating things happened. There was always something exciting just around the next corner if you took the trouble to look for it. For instance, there was her luncheon date today. A grin of delighted anticipation lit her face as she contemplated the afternoon to come.

Forty minutes later she glanced in the mirror as she was preparing to leave the dressing room. In the worn, faded blue jeans and tennis shoes she looked about

sixteen. The shapeless thigh-length sweater in fuzzy pink angora was warm and comfortable, but no one would ever call it alluring. She had fixed her dark, waist-length hair in a single thick braid over one shoulder, and it contributed to her youthful air. She grinned, deeply amused. If Edward Betz's client could see her now, no further discouragement would be needed to convince him to look elsewhere for a mistress! Laughing, she shook her head and turned away from the mirror. The whole incident had been wildly ridiculous, and it was time she dismissed it from her mind. Besides, her appearance might not be calculated to rouse lust in a doddering old recluse, but she was sure her escort would find it more than satisfactory.

Barry Montclair opened the door of the charming brownstone, a grave smile lighting his thin face. "Hi, Tania. Mama's in the shower. I'm supposed to entertain you until she comes down." His voice had a gravelly hoarseness endearingly odd in a five-year-old. Then as if remembering his manners, he added with quaint formality, "Won't you please come in?"

"I'd be delighted," Tania said with equal formality as she entered the high-ceilinged, mahogany book-lined foyer. She'd always loved this old house, with its air of mellow warmth. She glanced up the gold-carpeted staircase to the upper level with a sigh of impatience. Marguerite was a perfectly delightful human being, as well as being her best friend, but she had absolutely no sense of time. Tania chided herself to be more understanding. Marguerite took advantage of Tania's weekly excursions with Barry to snatch a few hours alone with her husband, Michael, who was the company's principal choreographer. Barry's mama was probably expending a lot of effort right now to look especially glamorous for Michael. She looked down at Barry. "And how do you suggest we go about entertaining ourselves, Master Montclair?"

He closed the door, carefully fastening the chain lock. He cocked his head consideringly. "Well, we could look at the picture book Daddy gave me yesterday. It has all kinds of dinosaurs and legends and junk. He said since you were taking me to the Museum of Natural History today, it was only sensible to have some background."

"Only sensible," she agreed solemnly, her dark eyes twinkling. Marguerite always said that Barry was five going on seventy. In addition to his precocity he was totally adorable in many other ways. In blue jeans and Return of the Jedi sweatshirt, his sturdy diminutive form gave the appearance of being both tough and oddly vulnerable. Barry's acorn-brown hair was shining with the silky luster found only in very young children, and she had a sudden urge to run her fingers through it caressingly. She restrained the impulse. Barry's dignity would be much affronted. "I have a better idea. Would you like to see the present I brought you?"

Barry's hazel eyes lit up with interest, and he nodded eagerly.

"Good," Tania said, walking briskly to the staircase and plopping down on the fourth step. She patted the step beside her. "Then, come over here and we'll take a look at it." She opened her large, cream-colored shoulder bag and drew out a small, cloth-covered package. "I bought it for you in Chinatown the other day." He was beside her on the step now, cuddling close to her in his eagerness, his sturdy warmth pressing into the curve of her arm. She ventured an unobtrusive hug as he quickly tore the wrapping off the gift. It was odd how infinitely dear the weight of a child could feel. Odd and rather wonderful.

A puzzled frown creased Barry's forehead. "What is

it?" His careful finger touched one of the clear crystal prisms hung on a glittering silver chain. There was a tiny, exquisitely painted violet on each prism. "What do I do with it?"

"It's a wind chime," Tania said softly, her own finger touching a prism with caressing delicacy. "We're going to hang it on a branch of the tree in your courtyard, in the back. Then, whenever the wind blows, it will make lovely music for you. Wind chimes are very special, Barry. They can do all kinds of wonderful things. They give you pleasure, they soothe away your pain. Sometimes they can even help to save your life. Wind chimes are magia."

Barry's gaze was suddenly alert. "That's a foreign word, isn't it? Jamie said you were a foreigner. What does it mean, Tania?" A few years older than Barry, Jamie was the little boy who lived next door.

"It's a Hungarian word meaning magic," she answered. "And I'm not a foreigner. I'm Hungarian, but I'm soon going to be an American citizen like my friend Barry."

"Jamie says you're Russian and your papa was a colonel in the Russian Army before he was killed in Afgh—"

"Jamie is wrong," she said tersely, her face clouding. "My father may have been Russian, but I'm Hungarian." She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. "I'll tell you all about it some other time. Right now I think we'd better go out back and hang up these wind chimes, don't you?"

When Marguerite Montclair made an appearance in the courtyard a short while later, Tania was just climbing down from the oak tree, while Barry sat cross-legged on the ground below, supervising her descent with ponderous instructions and multiple shouts of warning as she carefully traversed her way through the branches.

Barry spared his mother a brief glance before resuming his duties. "Hi, Mom. Tania brought me a wind chime."

"So I see," Marguerite said as she watched apprehensively while Tania negotiated the last few feet of a branch before she jumped lightly to the ground. "Was it necessary to hang the blasted thing at the very top of the tree? You could have been hurt, Tania."

"Nonsense," Tania said, rubbing her hands briskly on her jeans. "I'm a world-class tree climber, and I had Barry down here choreographing my every move. You can tell Michael that in twenty years his son is going to give him some stiff competition." She grinned at Barry, who still sat on the ground, and he grinned in response. "We're an unbeatable team, aren't we?" He nodded contentedly, his eyes on the prisms glittering in the sunlight high above them. "And it had to be high up so Barry could just open his bedroom window and hear the chimes."