Scenes of Passion (15 page)

“When,” he gasped, and just like that, she dropped out of warp speed. She didn't stop moving, she just made each stroke last an eternity, and he crashed into her in slow motion. And then she was coming, too, and he couldn't believe how incredible it felt.

She collapsed on top of him, and he held her tightly, their two hearts pounding.

“I like it when you lose control,” she whispered again.

Matt laughed. “Yeah, that kind of worked for me, too. Where did you, um, learn to…?”

She lifted her head to look down at him, her eyes sparkling with restrained laughter. “I'm extremely well read.” Her smile was devilish. “I liked the
mistress
thing.”

Oh, dear Lord, it was possible he was the luckiest man in the world. “I love you so much,” he told her.

And just like that, she started to cry.

“Oh, Mags,” he said, his heart breaking. “God, please don't cry.” He kissed her. “Don't be sad—”

“I'm not,” she told him, kissing him, too. “I'm crying because I'm so
happy
. Oh, Matt, I'm so glad you didn't die.”

He held her close. “Me, too, Maggie,” he whispered. “Me, too.”

M
aggie sat in the theater, looking up at the stage.

Matt was rehearsing a song that his character sang with a vocal quartet. The soprano, a woman named Charlene, was flirting with him, standing too close, her hand lingering far too long on his arm.

He glanced over at Maggie, caught her eye, and made a face.

“Some things never change,” she mouthed to him, and he laughed. “Behave,” she added, with a mock frown.

“Yes, mistress,” he mouthed back, heat in his eyes.

Oh, dear Lord, it was hot in here. And when would this rehearsal end?

The soprano was watching them, and Maggie smiled sweetly up at her. Tough luck, Charlene. Matt was taken.

“Time to take ten, no
fifteen
,” Dan Fowler shouted, and the cast scattered, knowing that the director was serious about the small amounts of time he allotted for breaks. “Stone! It's time to deal with your hair.”

“Yeah, sorry, Dan.” Matt dug into this pocket for a ponytail holder and pulled his hair back from his face. “I'll keep it pulled back if you want.”

“I want it cut.” Dan's nasal voice echoed in the auditorium. “I got a friend here tonight who cuts hair down in New York. She's ready to cut your hair right now.”

Matt froze. Maggie watched him make himself relax, one muscle at a time before he spoke.

“Tell her thank you,” he said, “but I'm not going to cut my hair.”

“Hello,” Dan said. “Cody works for one of the biggest advertising firms in Manhattan. He doesn't have long hair.”

“I'm sorry,” Matt said, “but we're going to have to work around this. I'll tie it back and put it under my shirt. I'll wear a wig if you want me to.”

Dan walked to the stage, followed by a woman in a black stretch jumpsuit. “Come on, Stone. It'll grow back. Getting your hair cut isn't going kill you. Don't make me treat you like some rude child and tie you down—”

Matt backed away. “No,” he said, his voice sharp.

Dan stopped short. “Jeez, I was kidding.”

Maggie quickly climbed on stage and moved to stand beside Matt. She took his hand, squeezing it, and he glanced at her.

“What's with you tonight, Stone?” Dan's eyes narrowed. “You seem a little…I don't know. Strung-out?” He turned toward the rows of seats. “Hey, Dolores!”

Dolores appeared instantly, as if Dan had conjured her up. She held a plastic specimen cup in her hand.

Matt exhaled loudly. It was similar to a laugh, but it held not a drop of humor. “I just don't want to get my hair cut,” he said. “That doesn't mean I'm on drugs.”

“Take the cup. You know what to do.”

“Are you saying that I can't disagree with you without having to take a urine test?” Matt's voice rose in volume despite his efforts to stay cool.

“This is not a disagreement,” Dan said. “This is weird behavior. Go do your thing, and then get back here and get your hair cut. Dolores, go with him to the men's.”

Matt didn't move. He just stared at Dan.

“What, you're not going to do it?” Dan asked. “Then get off my stage.”

Matt still didn't move.

“You think you're irreplaceable? Well, you're wrong. I'll take over your part myself. No sweat. In fact, it would be a real pleasure.” Dan's gaze flicked over to Maggie just long enough so Matt knew exactly what he meant.

Two little words were on his lips. Two little words that would tell Dan Fowler exactly what he should do with himself.

But Maggie was watching him, and he closed his eyes instead. He took a deep, deep breath in through his nose. He held it, and then exhaled in a large swoosh through his mouth. Eyes still closed, he drew in more air.

“What's he doing?” Dan asked.

“I think he's trying not to kill you,” Dolores said dryly.

Matt took three or four more deep breaths, then slowly opened his eyes. He took the specimen cup from Dolores, and even managed to give her a smile. “I'll take your drug test,” he said quietly to Dan, “but you're not going to cut my hair.”

 

Dan Fowler's face was expressionless as Maggie explained why Matt didn't want his hair cut.

But then he laughed. “You really believe this crap, don't you?”

Maggie's mouth dropped open. “Are you saying that you
don't?
”

“Yeah, I think it's fiction. Stone is what I call a pathological actor,” Dan told her. “When you deal with him, it's impossible to tell where reality ends and fiction begins. I'm not sure he's able to tell the difference himself.” He laughed
again. “So much for you and him not being involved, huh? When did that happen?”

She didn't answer.

“I suppose that's what I get, making you guys practice all that kissing at home,” he continued. “Stone's playing some kind of game with your head, Maggie. Cancer—my ass.”

Maggie stood up, spitting out the very same words she knew Matt had worked so hard not to say. “You may have no trouble replacing Matt,” she added, “but keep in mind that if he goes, I go, too.”

“Relax,” Dan said. “We'll work around the hair thing. I don't want either of you to quit, okay? I just think you shouldn't take everything Stone says as the absolute truth. Did he say which hospital he was in?”

“Yeah. The Cancer Center at the University of Southern California. Maybe you should call and check, make sure he really was there, Dan.”

“Maybe I will. Oh, and in case you were wondering, his urine tests have all come up clean. So far, anyway.”

“It must really suck to be you,” Maggie told him.

He nodded, turning back to the papers on the table in front of him. “Yeah. Right now I wish I were Stone—imagine that.” He glanced up at her. “I'll be here if you need me, you know, when you wake up from this dream you're living in.”

“I won't need you,” she said, seething with indignation as she walked away.

W
hen the alarm went off at eight o'clock, Maggie was already awake.

Ever since Matt had left for California two days ago, she'd been unable to eat or sleep. The only thing she could actually do was work, so she'd dug in, working late into the night on the monthly accounts, searching for some legal principle to fall back on if they couldn't increase profits.

Stevie and Matt had had their heads together for over a week now, working on something that Matt didn't want to show her until they'd done some more research.

Maggie was still trying to get her hands on that mysterious codicil—tracking it down had been much harder than she'd thought.

She got out of bed, showered quickly and was soon downstairs in the office, wishing for the nine millionth time that she'd been able to talk Matt into letting her go with him.

But he'd been adamant she remain in Connecticut. “I want to keep then and now completely separate,” he'd said to her
the evening before his flight. He'd smiled at her lazily as they lay in his bed. “I think of it as something out of science fiction—the time I spent there was kind of an alternate reality. If that and my present reality ever meet—boom. The whole world will explode.”

Maggie had rolled her eyes. “Matt, get serious.”

And he did. “I left behind an awful lot of pain and fear at the Cancer Center,” he told her. “I know they saved my life—at least they gave me some extra time—but it's not a nice place. The tests aren't a lot of fun. And waiting for the results…”

“That's why I want to go with you,” she said.

“And that's why I don't want you to come,” he said. “Please. I don't want you to see me there, like that.”

So here she was, waiting for him.

He'd called when his flight landed in L.A., and again several times over the past few days. He'd told her he wouldn't have any test results until Tuesday night.

It was finally Tuesday.

Maggie looked at the clock.

Eight-thirty in the morning.

It was going to be another long day.

 

The telephone finally rang at nine o'clock that evening.

“Hey, Mags.” Matt sounded exhausted.

Maggie closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “Matt.” Tell me.
Tell me, tell me, tell me
.

“Sorry I couldn't call earlier,” he said. “You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get to a phone.”

If he were okay, he would have told her without any delay, wouldn't he? Maggie tried to still the fear that was rising into her throat. “Tell me,” she said.

“Well, there's good news and bad news,” he said. “I thought I was going to be able to catch the red-eye home tonight—”

“Oh, God,” she breathed.

“No, that's the bad news,” he said.

“Then tell me the good news.”

“The good news is that there's no definite bad news,” he said. “The test results came back…weird. They want to retest before telling me anything.”

“Weird how?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he said. “I just know we're back in wait mode. If you want to know the truth, I think there was some kind of error in the lab and they're just afraid to tell me. I wish they would. It's better than thinking—”

“Matt, I'm going to fly out,” she said.

“No,” he said. “Don't. I've been picturing you sleeping in my bed, or working downstairs and…It's been a great focus for me, Maggie. I need you there, waiting for me.” Over the line, she heard a murmured voice talking to Matt. “I have to go,” he said. “I'll call you as soon as I know anything. I love you.”

“I'm coming out there,” she told him, but the connection was already broken.

 

The earliest flight to LAX left Bradley Airport several hours after midnight.

Maggie bought a ticket online, and then went about the business of getting through the day.

She had to file more papers in New Haven in an effort to get a look at that damned elusive codicil to Mr. Stone's will. And there was a rehearsal starting at seven. She'd have to leave a little early to get to the airport on time.

The day passed interminably slowly. Maggie waited in line after line, dealing with disinterested, apathetic clerks as she tried to find out what had gone wrong with her petition to release that codicil.

She ate a tuna fish sandwich standing up in a dreary deli, then went back to slug it out with more bureaucrats. At three o'clock, after demanding to speak to a supervisor, she found out that there was a form missing from the paperwork she'd
submitted, and she had to get Matt's signature before anything else could be done.

She went out to join the wall of traffic on Route 95.

Back at the house, she hurried inside, only to find that she'd gone out without turning on the telephone answering machine. Matt might have called her, but she would never know. Bitterly disappointed, she sank down on the living room floor and cried.

 

Dan had taken the news that Matt wasn't at rehearsal and that Maggie was going to leave early in surprisingly good form. He made arrangements for one of the men in the chorus to read and walk through the part of Cody for the evening.

They were running the second half of the second act, starting with a solo Maggie sang, alone in Lucy's bedroom. The scene immediately following the song was the same one she and Matt had auditioned with—the scene with that brain rattling kiss.

It didn't matter how many times they practiced it, Matt still left her breathless. God, she missed him.

Rhonda, the accompanist, started to play, and Maggie tried to focus on the song. It was a plaintive ballad, in which Lucy, after becoming engaged to Cody's rival, wonders why she's feeling so miserable when she should be happy. Maggie didn't have any problem calling up feelings of misery this evening.

Please God, let Matt and me have a happy ending.

Finally, quietly, the song ended, and Maggie closed her eyes, following Dan's blocking.

“Lucy, are you still awake?”

That voice was unmistakable, and Maggie's heart leapt as she snapped her head up.

Matt stood on the other side of the stage, wearing his familiar blue jeans and high voltage white T-shirt. His face looked tired and maybe a little pale, but he was smiling at her.

“Matt!”

Two long strides brought him toward her, even as she launched herself at him. His arms went around her, and then she was kissing him—hungrily, breathlessly, impatiently, thankfully.

She pulled back to look up into his eyes.

He'd cut his hair. It was short—similar to the way he'd worn it in high school. She tried to swallow her fear as she wondered if he'd cut his hair because it hadn't worked as a good luck charm.

“I'm okay,” he told her. “Maggie, I'm clean. The cancer hasn't come back.”

The rush of relief was so intense that she swayed. He held her tightly, kissing her again.

“Uh, people.” Dan's voice penetrated Maggie's euphoria. “This little reunion is deeply moving, but it's not getting us any farther along here. Do you mind sticking to what's in the book?”

Still holding Maggie close, Matt looked out at the director. “Please, can we take ten?”

“You've already taken five,” Dan said grumpily. “We've got a scheduled break coming up in about twenty minutes. Let's keep it going.”

“There's so much I want to say to you,” Matt whispered to Maggie. He gave her one more kiss before crossing back to his mark on the other side of the stage.

They ran through their lines almost automatically as Maggie kept her eyes on Matt. She was afraid to blink, afraid he'd vanish as quickly as he'd appeared.

His hairstyle brought out the exotic planes and angles of his face. He was more handsome than ever. And as he turned his back to her slightly, she saw that he'd only cut the top and sides of his hair. The back was still long, pulled into a ponytail at his nape. He could stick it under a shirt and no one would ever know he had hair halfway down his back.

“And you're wondering what it would feel like,” Matt
was saying, “if you brought your lips up, like this…” He moved her face up toward him, and Maggie caught her breath at the love she saw in Matt's eyes.

He didn't say anything for several long moments. She could feel his heart beating against hers, he was holding her so tightly.

“Oh, Christ.” Dan's voice echoed in the room. “Line! Somebody give him his line!”

“And if I brought my lips down, like this…” Dolores prompted from the edge of the stage.

But Matt didn't seem to hear. “Maggie,” he said, his voice husky. “Will you marry me?”

She caught her breath.
Marry
him. As in forever. As in the rest of his life. As in, he now believed his life would last long enough for him to share it with her.

Joy and relief flooded through her. There was nothing Matt could have done to convince her more that he believed his cancer was truly gone.

And as for
marrying
him…

“Yes.”

With a shout of laughter, Matt kissed her.

The cast broke into a round of applause.

“Oh, Lord,” Dan's bored voice cut over the clapping. “I guess we better take a break.”