Dance to the Piper by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

can't change what you are, Reed. Or at least you shouldn't."
    He believed that, and always had. He was the son of Edwin Valentine, one of the early movers and shakers in the record industry. He was a product of success, wealth and survival. He was, as Maddy had said, devoted to the business, because it had been part of his life always. He was impatient, often ruthless, a man who looked at the bottom line and the fine print before changing it to suit himself. He had no business sitting in a darkening apartment with a woman with cat's eyes and a wicked smile. He had less business entertaining fantasies about what it would be like to remain until the moon began to rise.
    "You're killing that plant," he murmured.
    "I know. I always do." She had to swallow, and that surprised her. Something in the way he'd been looking at her just now. Something in the tone of his voice, the set of his body. She could always be mistaken about a face, but not about a body. His was tensed, and so was hers. "I keep buying them, and keep killing them."
    "Too much sun." He hadn't meant to, but brushed the back of her hand with his fingers. "And too much water. It's as easy to overlove as underlove."
    "I hadn't thought of that." She was thinking about the tremors that were shooting up her arm, down her spine. "Your plants probably thrive with the perfect balance of attention.'' She caught herself wondering if it was the same with his women. Then she rose, because her system wasn't reacting as she'd expected it to. "I can offer you tea, but not coffee. I don't have any."
    "No. I have to go." He didn't—there were no schedules to be met, no appointments to keep. But he was a survivor, and he knew when to back away. "I enjoyed the dinner, Maddy. And the company."
    She let out a long breath, as if she'd just come down from a very high leap. "I'm glad. We'll do it again."
    It was impulse. It was usually impulse with Maddy. She didn't think about it twice. With friendly warmth, she put her hands on his shoulders and touched her tips to his. The kiss lasted less than a second. And vibrated like a hurricane.
    He felt her lips, smooth, curved a bit in a smile. He tasted the sweetness, fleeting, with a touch of spice. Her scent was there, hovering, light enough to tease. When she moved back, he heard her quick, surprised intake of air and saw the same surprise reflected in her eyes.
    What was that? she thought. What in God's name was that? She was a woman who made a habit of light, friendly kisses, quick hugs, casual touches. None of them had ever rocked her like this. She felt hints of everything she'd ever imagined in that one brief contact. And she wanted more. Because she'd practiced self-denial all her life, it was easier to control the desire to touch the fire a second time.
    "I'm glad you came." The tremor in her voice amazed her.
    "So am I." It wasn't often he had to use restraint. It wasn't often he had to deny himself anything. In this case, he knew he had to. "Good night, Maddy."
    "Good night." She stood where she was while he let himself out. Then, listening to her body, she sat down. Better to think this one through, she warned herself. Better to think long and hard. Then her gaze drifted over to the plant that was wilting and yellowing in the dark window. Strange, she hadn't realized she'd been in the dark herself for so long.

Chapter Three
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    Her muscles warmed, her eyes dreamy, Maddy stretched at the barre with the line of dancers. The instructor called out every position, pile, tendu, attitude. Legs, torsos, arms responded in endless repetition.
    Morning class was repetition, a continual reminder to the body that it could indeed do the unnatural and do it well time and time again. Without it, that same body would simply revolt and refuse to strain itself, refuse to turn the leg out from the hip as though it were on a ball hinge, refuse to bend beyond what was ordinary, refuse to stretch itself past natural goals. It would,