Dance to the Piper (14 page)

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When Maddy let herself into her apartment she was thinking about Reed. That didn't surprise her. Thoughts of Reed had dominated her day to the point where she had had to make a conscious effort to concentrate on her role as Mary Howard. The Philadelphia opening was only three weeks away. She couldn't afford to be distracted by speculation on what-if and how-to when they concerned Reed Valentine.

But what was going to happen on Saturday? What would she say? How should she behave?

Maddy jammed the key into her lock and called herself a fool. But she kept thinking.

The lights were on. As the door closed behind her, Maddy stood in the center of the room frowning. True, she was often absentminded or in too much of a rush to remember little details, but she wouldn't have left the lights on. She'd retained the habit of conserving energy—and electrical bills—from her leaner days. Besides, she didn't think she'd even turned them on that morning before she'd left for class.

Odder still, she could have sworn she smelled coffee. Fresh coffee.

Maddy was setting down her dance bag and turning toward the kitchen when she heard a noise from the bedroom. Heart thudding, she pulled a tap shoe from the bag and held it up like a weapon. She didn't consider herself the aggressive type, but it didn't even occur to her to run and call for help. It was her home, and she had always defended what was hers.

Slowly, careful to make no sound, she moved across the room.

She heard a jangle of hangers from the closet and gripped the shoe tighter. If the thief thought he'd find anything of value in there, he was too stupid for words. She should be able to send a dim-witted thief on his way with the threat of a rap over the head with a reinforced heel. Still, the closer she came, the more often she had to swallow past the little flutter of panic in her throat.

Holding her breath, Maddy closed her free hand around the knob, then pulled. There were simultaneous shrieks of alarm.

"Well." Chantel put a hand to her heart. "It's nice to see you, too."

"Chantel!" With a whoop of delight, Maddy tossed her shoe aside and grabbed her sister. "I almost put a dent in your head."

"Then I'd have one to match yours."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hanging up a few things." Chantel kissed Maddy's cheek, then tossed back her silvery-blond mane. "I hope you don't mind. Silk wrinkles so dreadfully."

"Of course I don't mind. I meant, what are you doing in New York? You should have let me know you were coming."

"Darling, I wrote you last week."

"No, you—" Then Maddy remembered the stack of mail she'd yet to open. "I haven't gotten to some of my mail yet."

"Typical."

"Yeah, I know." She drew her sister back just to look. It was a face she knew as well as her own, but one she never ceased to admire. The subtle French fragrance that wafted through the room suited Chantel as perfectly as the deep blue eyes and the cupid's-bow mouth. "Oh, Chantel, you look wonderful. I'm so glad to see you."

"You look pretty wonderful yourself." Chantel studied her sister's glowing complexion. "Either those vitamins you guzzle are working or you're in love."

"I think it's both."

One thin, shapely brow rose. "Is that so? Why don't we get out of the closet and talk about it?"

"Let's sit down and have a drink." Maddy linked her arm through Chantel's. "Oh, I wish Abby were here, too. Then it would be perfect. How long are you in town?"

"Just a couple of days," Chantel explained as they walked back to the living room. "I'm presenting one of those America's Choice Awards Friday night. My publicists thought it would be 'just nifty'."

Maddy began to search the cupboards for a bottle of wine. "And you don't."

Chantel tossed a glance at the darkening window. "You know New York's not my town, darling. It's too…"

"Real?" Maddy suggested.

"Let's just say noisy." Outside, two sirens were competing in volume. "I hope you have some wine, Maddy. You were out of coffee, you know."

"I gave it up," Maddy told her with her head stuck in a cupboard.

"Gave it up? You?"

"I was drinking too much of it. Just pouring that caffeine into my system. I'm drinking mostly herb tea these days." Maddy sniffed again and caught the rich, dark scent of coffee. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I borrowed a few scoops from your next-door neighbor."

Wine bottle in hand, Maddy drew out of the cupboard. "Not Guido."

"Yes, Guido. The one with the biceps and large teeth."

Maddy unearthed two glasses. "Chantel, I've lived next door to him for years and I wouldn't exchange a good-morning with him without an armed guard."

"He was charming." Leaning against the counter, Chantel pushed her hair away from her face. Although I did have to discourage him from coming over to fix the coffee for me."

Maddy glanced at her sister, at the classic face, the stunning body, the Wedgwood-blue eyes that easily hypnotized men. "I bet." Maddy poured two glasses, then tapped hers against her sister's. "Here's to the O'Hurleys."

"God bless them every one," Chantel murmured, and sipped. After a grimace, she swallowed. "Maddy, you're still buying your wine at the flea market."

"It's not that bad. Let's sit down. Have you heard from Abby?"

"I called her before I left so she'd know I'd be on the same coast. She was refereeing a fight between the boys and sounded blissfully happy."

"Dylan?"

Chantel sank into the sofa, grateful for its stationary comfort after a long, tedious flight. "She said he was nearly finished with the book."

"How does she feel about it?"

"Content. She trusts him completely." Chantel sipped again. There was a trace of cynicism in her voice that she couldn't completely disguise. She had trusted once, too. "Abby seems to have put her life with Rockwell behind her. She tells me Dylan's going to adopt the boys."

"That's great." Maddy felt her eyes fill, and swallowed more wine. "That's really great."

"It's what she's needed. He's what she's needed. Oh, and Abby said she'd gotten a lace tablecloth from Trace as a wedding gift."

"I guess we were all hoping he'd manage to get back for the wedding. Where is he?"

"Brittany, I think. He sent his apologies, as usual."

"Do you ever wonder what he does?"

"I decided to stop wondering in case it was illegal. Are Mom and Pop going to make it to your opening?"

"I hope so. They've got three weeks to work their way to Philly. I guess you won't be able to make it back east."

"I'm sorry." Chantel closed her hand over her sister's. "Filming on
Strangers
was postponed—couple of problems with the location site. I should be starting week after next. You know I'd be here if I could."

"I know. You must be so excited. It's such a wonderful part."

"Yes." A frown moved into her eyes and out again.

"What's wrong?"

Chantel hesitated, on the verge of telling Maddy about the anonymous letters she'd been getting. And the phone calls. She shrugged it off. "I don't know. Nerves, I guess. I've never done a miniseries. It's not really television, it's not a feature film."

"Come on, Chantel. This is Maddy."

"It's nothing." She made up her mind not to discuss what was probably nothing more than a minor annoyance. When she returned to California, the whole thing would probably have blown over. "Just a few loose ends I have to tie up. What I want to talk about is the man you're thinking about." She smiled when Maddy blinked back to full attention. "Come on, Maddy. Tell your big sister everything."

"I'm not sure how much there is to tell." Maddy brought her legs up into a comfortable lotus position. "Do you ever remember Pop talking about knowing Edwin Valentine?"

"Edwin Valentine?" Narrowing her eyes, Chantel searched her memory. One of the reasons for her quick rise as an actress in Hollywood was the fact that she never forgot anything—not lines, not names, not faces. "No, I don't remember the name at all."

"He's Valentine Records." Chantel merely lifted a brow again and waited for Maddy to go on. "It's one of the top labels in the business, maybe
the
top. Anyway, he met Mom and Pop when we were babies. He was just getting started, and they let him sleep on a cot in their hotel room."

"Sounds like them," Chantel said easily. She slipped out of her shoes and slouched, something she would never have done with anyone but family. "What's next?"

"Valentine Records is the backer for the play."

"Interesting." She started to sip, then latched on to her sister's hand. "Maddy, you're not involved with him? He must be Pop's age. Look, I'm not saying that age should be a big factor in a relationship, but when it's my little sister—"

"Hang on." Maddy giggled into her wine. "Didn't I read that you were seeing Count DeVargo of DeVargo Jewelers? He must be hitting sixty."

"That was different." Chantel muttered. "European men are ageless."

"Very good," Maddy decided after a moment. "That was really very good."

"Thanks. In any case, we were nothing more than friends. If you're getting dreamy eyed over a man old enough to be your father—"

"I'm not dreamy eyed," Maddy said. "And it's his son."

"Whose son? Oh." Calmer, Chantel settled back again. "So this Edwin Valentine has a son. Not a dancer?"

"No." She had to smile. "He's taken over the record company. I guess he's a magnate."

"Well." Chantel rolled out the word. "Coming up in the world, aren't we?"

"I don't know what I'm doing." Maddy unlaced her legs and rose. "Most of the time I think I must be crazy. He's gorgeous and successful and conservative. He likes French restaurants."

"The beast."

Maddy dissolved into laughter. "Oh, Chantel, help."

"Have you slept with him?"

It was like Chantel to get right down to brass tacks. Maddy let out a deep breath and sat again. "No."

"But you've thought about it."

"I can't seem to think of much of anything but him."

Chantel reached for the bottle to fill her glass again. Once you got past the first swallow, the wine was almost palatable. "And how does he feel about you?"

"That's where I hit the brick wall. Chantel, he's kind and considerate and has the capacity for such—well, goodness, I guess. But he has this safety net when it comes to women. One minute he's holding me and I feel as though this is what I've been waiting for all of my life. The next minute he's putting me aside as though we hardly know each other."

"Does he know how you feel?"

"I'm half-afraid he does. I wouldn't dare tell him. He's made it clear he's not interested in what he calls'the long haul'."

Chantel felt a little twist of alarm. "And you're thinking in terms of the long haul?"

"I could spend my life with him." With eyes abruptly serious, abruptly vulnerable, she stared at her sister. "Chantel, I could make him happy."

"Maddy, these things work two ways." God, how well she knew it. "Can he make you happy?"

"If he'd let me in. If he'd let me in just a little so I could understand why he's so afraid to feel. Chantel, something happened, something devastating, I know it, to make him so untrusting. If I knew what it was I could do something about it. But I'm flying blind."

Chantel set down her glass and took both of Maddy's hands. "You really love him?"

"I really love him."

"He's a very lucky man."

"You're prejudiced."

"Damn right. And no matter how aloof he is, I don't think he stands a chance. I mean, look at that face." She took Maddy's chin in her hand. "It says trustworthy, loyal, devoted."

"You make me sound like a cocker spaniel."

"Maddy…" It was so easy to give advice, Chantel thought, so easy to give what she would never take herself. "Very simply, if you love this guy, the best way to get him to love you back is to be what you are."

Discouraged, Maddy picked up her wine. She'd throw caution to the winds, she decided, and have another half glass. "I figured you'd give me some tried-and-true tips in the art of seduction."

"I just did. For you," Chantel added. "Honey, if I told you some of my secrets, your hair would curl. Besides, you're looking for marriage, right?"

"I guess I am."

"Then while I don't recommend honesty in most relationships, this is different. If you want this man in your life for better or for worse, men you should be up-front. When are you seeing him again?"

"Not until Saturday."

Chantel frowned a moment. She'd wanted to get a look at this Valentine character herself, but she'd be on a plane heading west on Saturday. "Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to have a new outfit." She cast a look at

Maddy's sweats. "Something alluring, of course, but something that will suit you."

"Do they make things like that?"

"Leave it to me." Chantel took another quick glance and gauged that she and Maddy still wore the same size. "The only thing I really like about New York is the shopping. Speaking of shopping, did you know you only have three carrots and a jug of juice in your fridge?"

"I was going to get something at the health food shop around the corner."

"Spare me from that. I don't like eating twigs."

"There's a restaurant a block away that serves great spaghetti."

"Terrific. Do I have to change or do you?"

Maddy studied her sister's elegant nubby silk suit while fingering her own sweats. "You do. Did you bring anything with you that doesn't look so Rodeo Drive?"

"I can't bring what I don't have. Keeping up an image that looks glamorous and a little decadent is hard work."

With a quick snort, Maddy rose. "I've got something you can toss on that shouldn't tarnish that image of yours too badly. Besides, no one's going to recognize you down at Franco's."

Chantel smiled slowly as she rose. "What odds do you give me?"

Maddy opened her arms to grab her sister. "Chantel, you're one in a million."