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Only Matt knew how difficult it was to appear that calm. Inside, his blood boiled. He may have played hard and fast at one time with drugs and alcohol, but that had nothing to do with his admission into the hospital. But he wasn’t about to go into those details here. Not in front of a crowd, and especially not in front of Maggie.
He looked out at her. He could tell from the tightness of her shoulders that she was mad as hell. But he knew that she really wanted this part—she deserved this part—and he didn’t want her to lose it on account of him. And if he walked out of there, she’d go with him. He knew that. On top of that was the fact that he desperately wanted to play opposite her again….
“Okay,” he said, keeping his voice light.
“Good,” Fowler said. “Sing your damn song and get your ass off my stage.”
Matt snapped out a count and the accompanist played the introduction. He started to sing, his eyes following Maggie as she moved down the aisle, back to her seat. He could see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes, and he knew she’d realized that he’d let Dan Fowler push him around because of her. And she would, no doubt, chalk it all up to friendship. He was just her good old pal Matt, doing something nice for his buddy Maggie.
And yet there was attraction simmering between them. Although if it scared her even a third as much as it terrified him, was it any wonder she kept trying to ignore it, to push it aside?
But, God, imagine if she could let herself love him….
She looked up at him, and he channeled everything he was feeling into the music. Like most actors, he could be super critical of his own performance, but this time… well, even he would have cast himself.
He stopped the song halfway through, looking out at the director. “That’s enough, don’t you think, Dan?”
“Thank you,” came the standard reply. Then, “Stick around to read.”
Victory. He was going to get a chance to read lines. Whoopee.
Matt swung himself gracefully off the stage to find Maggie waiting for him. She silently took his hand and pulled him down the aisle to the back of the auditorium, ignoring all the curious eyes that were on them. She led him out the closed double doors into the lobby and started for the door to the street.
“Whoa,” he said. “Where are we going?”
“We’re leaving.”
He planted himself. “No way.”
“Yes way. That man is a creep.” She was seriously angry.
“He’s a good director, though. Wait and see.”
Now she was angry with him. “You’re only doing this for me, aren’t you?”
Yes. And he’d do far more for her, too, if she’d only let him. “Nope,” Matt told her. “I’m doing it for myself.”
Maggie didn’t buy it. “Matthew, you’ve had enough crap dumped on you from your father—with the will and everything. You don’t need to deal with this, too.”
“Hey!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “It’s okay. Really. It’s just my lurid past catching up with me. It happens. I don’t mind drug testing—”
“Liar.”
Matt laughed at the look of intense indignation on her face. God, she was wonderful.
“Well, okay,” he admitted. “It sucks. But life’s not always fair, and it’s no big deal.” She started to react, and he put one finger on her lips. “Really. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s to know the difference between big problems and little problems. And Dan Fowler is definitely a little problem.”
The woman with the clipboard and the cat glasses poked her head out of the door. “Stone and Stanton?” she said. “He’s looking for you. On stage, to read.”
“I want to do this,” Matt said, looking into Maggie’s eyes. “Let’s do this, okay?”
Maggie nodded, letting him drag her back into the auditorium. He took the bag from her shoulder, put it onto a seat and pushed her up the stairs to the stage.
“Take a few minutes to read it over,” Fowler called out from his throne behind the bright lights, a benevolent monarch lazily granting the peasants some crumbs from his table.
Maggie quickly skimmed the scene. And oh, God. She could feel herself start to blush. Of course. It had to be this scene. She glanced up to meet Matt’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her, then looked back at his script.
Oh, God.
“Whenever you’re ready, boys and girls,” Fowler’s indolent voice commanded.
“I read the entire play last week,” Maggie quickly told Matt. “This scene is part of a fantasy that my character is having. She’s just imagining that you’re there in her bedroom, okay?”
“Got it,” Matt said. He looked out toward the director. “We’re ready, Dan.”
“Quiet,” Fowler roared, and suddenly the room was still.
Sieg heil. Maggie couldn’t believe they were still here, auditioning for this tyrant. But then Matt read his first line, and she thought of nothing but the script.
“Lucy, are you still awake?” he read.
“Go away,” Maggie read, with weariness and annoyance in her voice.
“Hey,” Matt read, throwing up his free hand. “I don’treally want to be here. I’m just part of your overactive imagination.You want me to leave, you have to imagine megone.”
“All right. I will.” As the script directed, she squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating for a moment. When she opened her eyes, he was still standing there, of course. “Oh, damn,” Maggie read.
“Cody Brown, at your service,” Matt read.
“What kind of name is Cody, anyway? It’s a ridiculousname for a man born in Manhattan. You sound like a cowboyor a rodeo rider. What were your parents thinking?”
“Aha,” Matt read. “So that’s why I’m here. You want toinsult both me and my parents. Well, go for it, Luce.”
“I’m much too tired to be properly insulting,” Maggie sulked.
“Why else would you have imagined me here in your bedroomat one o’clock in the morning?”
Maggie looked up at Matt, her alarm not entirely feigned. He smiled, a smile that started very small and grew across his handsome face. “I know why I’m here,” he said as he advanced across the stage toward her.
Maggie stared at him, frozen in place. Was he really going to…? “No…”
“You’re wondering what it would be like to kiss me,” he read, moving closer to her. “Aren’t you?”
“No!”
As Maggie stared up at him, he came closer, until they were less than an inch apart. But he still wasn’t touching her.
Matt had the next line, but he waited a moment before reading it. The look in his eyes was remarkable as he gazed down at her, the perfect mix of nervousness and desire on his face. Oh, he was such a good actor. “You’re wonderingwhat it would be like if I put my arms around you, like this,” he read, then tossed the script onto the floor as he did just that.
“And you’re wondering what it would be like to put yourarms up around my neck.” Matt was going on memory now, but the lines were easy from here on in.
Maggie let her own script slide to the floor as she, as if almost in a trance, put the palms of both hands on Matt’s chest and slowly slid them upwards. She felt him inhale, as if he found her touch exciting. It was a nice addition to what was already fabulous acting.
Her hands met behind Matt’s neck and she could feel his long, soft hair against her bare arms. She was Lucy. And this was make-believe. They were acting. Acting.
“And you’re wondering what it would feel like,” Matt said slowly, “if you brought your lips up, like this—” and he gently pulled her chin up, then tenderly pushed the hair back from her face “—and if I brought my lips down, like this…”
Maggie was expecting a gentle kiss, but the moment his mouth found hers, something exploded. She felt his arms tighten around hers as he kissed her, and she kissed him, as she opened her mouth to him and…
Oh, God. She was lost.
But just as suddenly as that kiss began, it ended. Matt pushed her away from him and took several large steps to the other side of the stage.
“Well, forget it,” Matt said, his voice perfectly hoarse with emotion as he turned to look at her. “Because I’m notgoing to kiss you.”
They stared at each other, both breathing hard.
“Very nice,” Dan Fowler’s voice cut in. “Stick around for the dance audition.”
Maggie’s hands were shaking as she bent down to pick up her script. Matt took it from her.
“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“Sure,” she lied, looking up at the man who seemed intent on turning her world inside out. “I’m… just fine.”
Five
Maggie dragged herself up the stairs to her bedroom. The dance audition had been grueling. A sane person would take a hot shower and curl up in bed with a good book. But somehow she’d let Matt talk her into having dinner with him, as they’d planned the day before.
“Nothing fancy,” he’d insisted, with that little smile that could turn her to jelly.
Did he know? Could he tell that she’d finally succumbed to Matthew Fever? That’s what Angie had scornfully called it back in high school when one after another pretty young girl had fallen prey to Matt’s charms and followed him around adoringly, sighing soulfully.
“Everyone gets it,” Angie had insisted.
“Not me,” Maggie had said.
Now she wondered if it were like other childhood dis-eases—much more dangerous if contracted when an adult.
She closed the door to her room and undressed quickly, slipping into her bathrobe.
There was a soft knock on her door, and she opened it cautiously, not wanting to get into another discussion with her mother about the pros and cons of an October wedding.
But it was her little brother, Stevie, who stood there, yawning, as if he had just gotten out of bed.
“Morning,” he said, scratching his head, making his short dark hair stand up straight.
“It’s five in the evening. Don’t tell me you slept all day.”
“I cannot tell a lie,” Stevie said, a weak smile on his still-boyish face. “Your evening is my morning.”
“That’s pathetic.” She softened her words with a smile.
“I didn’t get home last night until noon,” he told her. “That is noon, as in this morning.”
“Are you kidding? Are you grounded for the rest of your life?”
“It was prom night.” Her brother grinned. “It was very wholesome. I went to two different after-prom parties, and there was absolutely no alcohol served at either one. I felt like one of My Three Sons. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I’m not hung over. What a bonus.”
“How’d it go with Danielle?”
Stevie rolled his eyes. “Great—if my goal was for her to still not realize that I’m alive.”
“It must run in the family,” Maggie said. “I know what you mean.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can’t accuse the Brockster of not knowing you’re alive. He wants to marry you. What’s doing, Mag-oid? You got a boy toy on the side?”
Maggie smacked him on the rear with her towel. “None of your business, Dr. Love. Outa my way. I need to take a shower.”
“Be nice to me,” Stevie said. “I came here to warn you. I overheard the ’rents talking, and it sounds like Her Royal Highness, Queen Vanessa, is coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, thank God,” Maggie said. “I’ve already got an excuse. I’m having dinner out with a friend.”
“Lucky you, you’ll miss that magic. Give a shout when you’re out of the shower.”
As Maggie was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, the doorbell rang. It was only 6:18. She’d never known Matt to be early, but he was doing an awful lot of things differently these days.
She stood back and looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Jeans and a red tank top, sandals on her feet. Who’d’ve thought she’d ever wear something this casual to a dinner meeting with her new boss?
A boss she happened to have the screaming hots for. And that was something she couldn’t let happen. Talk about ways to destroy a friendship. And what would Angie say?
The doorbell rang again, and she clattered down the stairs, throwing the door open.
“Hi.” She smiled, expecting Matt.
Brock looked back at her, his arms filled with suitcases. Vanessa stood behind him, also laden with luggage.
Uh-oh.
Maggie’s sister never traveled light, but seven suitcases for a two hour dinner…?
“My arms are breaking here,” Vanessa said, and Maggie stepped back, holding the door open for them.
Brock piled the suitcases near the stairs, smiling at Maggie. “Hey, kiddo.” His deep voice boomed in the small foyer. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me tonight.”
“No,” Maggie said faintly. “I didn’t.”
Stevie came down the stairs, his hair still wet from his shower. He stared from Van to Brock to the large pile of suitcases to Maggie. Uh-oh. He was thinking the same thing she was.
