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She didn’t recall seeing any preppie tennis players here tonight mingling amongst the guests.
She snorted at her own joke. It was the closest she’d come to laughing since Peter had died. The sober thought dropped the smile from her lips.
Neil March was certainly nothing to laugh about.
“Excuse me.” She flagged down a passing waiter. “Do you have water?” She realized she sounded like a dehydrated camel after days in the desert, but the waiter remained straight-faced. “Of course, madam.”
Moments later she was gulping down a glass of water, coughing and sputtering when it went down wrong. She pounded a fist against her chest to dislodge what felt like a boulder. “Maddie, you have to relax!” she muttered under her breath.
“Hey! Check it out. Now that’s a costume and a half!” a young blonde in a tennis outfit said, grabbing Maddie by the elbow.
There went her theory that there were no tennis players here tonight. The young woman was the gorgeous blonde half of her Neil March scenario, with white culottes that put the short in shorts. Bleach blond hair and a knockout tan in the dead of winter?
Intrigued, Maddie looked to where the blonde was pointing her tennis racket. Something had clearly captured her attention.
Standing in the doorway, his feet braced and hands on his hips, was the Phantom of the Opera, handsome despite the fact that the upper half of his face was masked in stark white.
She was immediately struck by his impressive bearing and thick, broad shoulders. His black cutaway tuxedo was covered with a many-caped greatcoat, fastened at the neck amid snowy-white ruffles. His presence was intense and powerful, and Maddie could see that she wasn’t the only woman inexplicably drawn to his mask and the thick black hair curling down around his collar.
He appeared to be looking for someone, his strong, thin lips turned down at the corners in just the shadow of a frown.
His gaze passed where she stood, then moved back again, as if he were taking a second look. No doubt he was, since Ms. Short-shorts was still holding on to Maddie’s elbow. She was exactly the sort of woman to make a man do a double take.
Maddie wasn’t surprised when he strode toward them. The young woman dropped her tennis racket to her side and stood with one hand on her hips, greeting the Phantom with a brilliant smile.
Oddly enough, Maddie had the peculiar sensation that he was watching her, coming for her, as if he’d picked an old friend’s face from a crowd. And it sent shivers down her spine. But of course that was nonsense. He was coming for the blonde.
With unconscious grace, he unhooked the cape and swung it around, folding it across a chair. Maddie’s heart leapt to her throat, and she nearly dropped the water glass that she held in her hand. This man was definitely not an old friend.
She would have remembered such a compelling gaze, the way his dark eyes burned through the stark whiteness of the mask…and especially that confident swagger that caught the attention of every woman he passed.
Her head spun as the man grew nearer. She was vaguely aware of the sound of her own breath heavy in her ears, the pounding of her heart in her head.
Now, he was in front of her, looking straight at her. As if he knew her. But there was no way he could recognize her through her mask. And even if he could see her face, it was improbable that he’d know her. How could he? She wasn’t part of this crowd.
Perhaps that was the problem. Did she stick out like a weed among orchids? Maybe she looked like the grungy suburban housewife that she was, as out of place as a child at a grown-up party.
He grinned then, the smile starting at his lips and emanating from his obsidian-black eyes behind the mask. His smile encompassed both Maddie and the primping blonde at her side.
So that was it. He was being polite, figuring Maddie was Ms. Short-shorts’s friend. And he was probably wondering how to get rid of her.
Well, she’d make it easy for him. She didn’t know why Goldilocks had latched on to her in the first place, and she had no qualms about bowing out when she wasn’t wanted. She dislodged her elbow from the blonde’s grasp just as the Phantom held out his hand and gestured toward the dance floor.
Let’s move it, sweetie. He’s obviously asking you to dance, and he isn’t going to wait forever, Maddie thought uncharitably, wondering why the woman’s grip on her elbow had tightened. What was this woman’s problem? Not a tough decision, especially for one as used to society charity balls as this girl seemed to be.
She glanced to her side. The young woman stared at Maddie with a mixture of disbelief and pique, then glanced at the Phantom. She swung her astonished gaze to Maddie, and, with an unladylike snort, flounced away in a huff.
Either the woman was crazy, or a complete idiot. And the Phantom had just been jilted. She turned to the man and offered a regretful shrug and a tentative smile.
The dark-haired man combed his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck. “Well?”
Maddie cocked her head. “Well?” she repeated.
“Dance with me.”
His voice was as low and rich as she’d imagined it would be. And she had definitely imagined the words.
Dance?
His eyes lit with amusement at her hesitation.
“Weren’t you asking Goldilocks to dance?” she blurted.
“Who?” The Phantom looked genuinely perplexed.
“You know.” Maddie tipped her head in the direction the blonde had disappeared. “The tennis player.”
The Phantom chuckled. “Not a chance. She’s a little young. And definitely not my type. I was asking you to dance.”
He was asking her to dance. And the orchestra was breaking into a slow ballad even as they spoke.
She nodded and took the hand he extended.
She felt a twinge of guilt when he swept her into his arms. It felt awkward. She hadn’t danced in ages. And for so many years it had only been Peter.
Peter’s arms. Peter’s whisper.
She felt the electric heat of the Phantom’s hand on her hip and her mind clicked into gear. A wave of panic surged over her.
Oh, Lord, what have I gotten into now?
She’d come here to support Children’s Hospital, not to dance. It was too much, too fast. To be dancing in another man’s arms, feeling another man’s heartbeat against her palm. Guilt turned the screw. Was she betraying Peter’s memory?
But Peter was gone. The Phantom was here, and his light embrace was not unpleasant. Besides, it was only one dance.
While Peter couldn’t dance to save his life, the Phantom was clearly a dancer, swaying easily in time to the music. Peter had been lean and lank, but her fingers now burned with the feel of the Phantom’s thick, rippling biceps. And he was shorter than Peter had been, though still a good head taller than Maddie. She would, she thought with an uncomfortable flutter of her stomach, fit right into the crook of the man’s shoulder.
As if he read her thoughts, he smiled at her.
At last, an imperfection. She was beginning to think that he was perfect in form and face—or at least what she could see of it. But his smile was crooked and little-boy adorable.
He chuckled low in his chest and his dark eyes sparkled with mirth. He lowered his head until his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck, sending shivers of delight down her spine. “You’re staring at me.”
Maddie felt as if he’d jolted her with a white-hot bolt of electricity. With a whimper of dismay, she attempted to shrug out of his arms.
His hand on her hip tightened in response. “Don’t run,” he implored in a throaty whisper. “Please. I was only kidding.”
She grimaced and tittered nervously. “I apologize. It’s just that I…”
He lifted his hand from her hip and gently placed his forefinger over her lips. “No. You don’t have to explain. Just dance with me.”
She nodded, losing track of her thoughts in liquid black eyes reminiscent of some Native American ancestor and confirmed by his angular features and aquiline nose.
He shifted slightly, pulling her into his chest so that his hand now rested at the small of her back. It was a modest gesture, but enough for her to feel the rock-hard ripples of his shoulder under her cheek.
She inhaled deeply, then fought the sense of guilt assaulting her even as the faint spice of the Phantom’s aftershave made her nostrils tingle.
Oh God, she prayed as grief washed over her. How she missed Peter.
Deep inside her heart, the part of her that had agonized through every lonely night, mourning Peter’s death, facing the achingly empty king-size bed alone, struggling through empty days, needed to move closer into the embrace of her Phantom gentleman.
She was relieved that he wasn’t trying to make idle conversation. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to be held. If only for a moment. To feel the brush of warm breath tickle her ear. To revel in strong arms encircling her waist.
But how could she?
She pulled back, opening the space between them. She should turn around and walk away. This instant, while she still had the strength to do so.
The Phantom’s warm hand lightly resting on her back sent shivers up her spine that had nothing to do with cold. Her spirit soared.
With a deep inner sigh, she allowed him to draw her closer. Being in his arms felt good and right. She would face her regrets tomorrow.
For tonight, she was going to dance.
Chapter Two (#ulink_19c33dbb-e274-5381-b512-1c346eea2286)
The Phantom leaned back to study the petite woman in his arms. Her face, framed by cinnamon-brown hair, was rosy with color. In her silvery ball gown and glass slippers she made a perfect Cinderella.
Though he still wasn’t certain why, she’d caught his eye the moment he had entered the ballroom. Perhaps it was because she looked small, and shy, and completely ill at ease.
He suspected that there was a latent fireman in him someplace, because she looked just like a little lost kitten stranded in a treetop. He felt like grabbing a ladder and rescuing her. Putting a smile on her heart-shaped face, a sparkle in her shadowed brown eyes.
He shifted forward so he could feel the satin softness of her cheek against his. Immediately, he felt her muscles bunch as if she were preparing to spring from his grasp.
She seemed as jumpy as a jackrabbit being chased by a fox. But if she wanted to run away, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. There was something familiar about her—something he couldn’t name, but which compelled him to keep her close.
He hadn’t even planned to come to the benefit in the first place. He rarely went out anymore.
And he never danced. What had drawn him onto the dance floor was as much a mystery to him as was the woman in his arms.
It didn’t matter anyway. He was here now. And he didn’t plan to leave. Or to let her go.
His face lingered near her bare shoulder, inhaling her light, musky fragrance. She wasn’t smothered in expensive perfume like most women of his acquaintance. No. She smelled like…
Moonlight.
If there were any way to blot out the nightmare of thoughts haunting him, it would be this beautiful woman.
He leaned back and smiled down at her, feeling her body stiffen when his gaze met hers.
Why was she so afraid?
His throat tightened at the look of utter helplessness in her huge brown eyes, and he became suddenly determined to change the course of her evening.
Before the night was through, he vowed to himself, he would hear the sweet sound of her laughter.
Maddie expected him to release her after the song ended, but he continued to sway back and forth as if the orchestra continued to play. She glanced around the room, terrified that she was making a spectacle of herself, but no one seemed to notice the still-dancing couple.
Moments later she heard the shrill wail of a saxophone and sagged with relief as the Phantom adjusted their steps to the beat of the new song. He was obviously determined to enjoy the evening. With her.
Well, so was she. With him.
“What’s your name?” he whispered into her ear.
Maddie stepped back and curtsied playfully. “I thought you would have guessed by now,” she teased. “Cinderella, of course!”
The Phantom let out a full-bodied laugh that caused those dancing around them to peer at them curiously.
“We’re going to play games, are we?” He took a step back and gave an elegant bow. “I guess that would make me your Phantom.”
Maddie was more than content to leave the introductions at that. They would all unmask at midnight, after all. If she stayed that long…
She had a sneaking suspicion she just might.
For the moment she was content just to remain in his arms and lose herself in the music. It was pure magic, and she didn’t intend to waste a single moment.
The song came to a close and the orchestra’s lead violist surprised everyone by breaking out in a fiddling tune. In moments a country line-dance was formed.
Her Phantom chuckled and drew her to the edge of the floor. “Sorry, love. I don’t do country.”
Maddie shrugged. It wasn’t hard to smile. Country wasn’t her style, either. “I’m ready for a break.”
The Phantom indicated a chair and held it for her, while she gathered her skirts and sat. “Are you thirsty? Why don’t I get you some…” His sentence trailed off.
She looked up, surprised. His eyes were cloudy and unreadable. He seemed to be sidetracked by something at the far corner of the ballroom.
She followed his gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Unless it was one of a number of beautiful young women over there.
She replied, “No, that’s okay. I’m not thirsty.”
But the Phantom was not listening. He was already walking away from her, his mind obviously elsewhere. As if with great effort, he tossed one quick glance back at her. “Excuse me. I’ll just…”
And then he was gone.
Maddie sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, though she could feel a hesitant smile still hovering on her lips.
Her fantasy was over. And she really should be angry with the man for abandoning her so abruptly. But the lovely warmth, telling her that she still had a heart, lingered. She felt alive, really alive, for the first time in years.
There would be no regrets. It didn’t matter that she’d been deserted for fresher prey. She was more than content just to sit here and watch wildly costumed dancers wiggling to some latest craze in line-dancing.
