Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 36

MADDY PULLED ON her new pajamas when she got home and curled up on the couch to wait for Max. She’d hated leaving before him, but it had quickly become clear that it would be easier for both Charlotte and Max if she were gone.

Max’s sister didn’t like her.

Maddy had had people not like her before—temperamental choreographers, ambitious dancers keen to usurp her position, angry ex-lovers—so it wasn’t as though being the object of someone’s enmity was new to her. She was surprised by how much Charlotte’s reaction hurt.

She’d wanted so much for Max’s family to like her. Over the years, she’d often heard him talk about Charlotte. For some reason, they had never run into each other until now. Still, Maddy had always imagined that if ever they did meet, the connection between them would be as effortless and instant as it had been with Max.

Nice idea, shame about the reality check.

Charlotte had started assessing Maddy the moment she stepped over the threshold, and things had gone downhill rapidly when she stepped in to defend Max’s fledgling art career. Maddy winced as she recalled the utter surprise and hurt on Charlotte’s face when she’d understood her brother had been holding out on her.

Her thoughts shifted to Eloise, Max’s niece. Maddy was the first to admit she had next to no experience where children were concerned. But she knew enough to recognize that she had not witnessed a normal, everyday kind of tantrum and that Eloise had special needs. Maddy wondered why Max hadn’t mentioned earlier that his niece was autistic. Did he not trust her with the information?

Maddy’s stomach tightened as she recalled the high, distressed pitch of the little girl’s cries. That Charlotte had been unable to connect with her or comfort her…Maddy could only imagine how the other woman must have felt. How powerless and angry and sad.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She crossed to let Max in.

“Thanks,” he said as he stepped across the threshold.

She wrapped her arms around herself and followed him as he moved into the living area. “Did Eloise settle down okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. She’s back in bed, dead to the world. Absolutely exhausted.”

He peeled off his coat and rolled his shoulders. He looked tired.

“Can I get you a drink? Some cognac? Hot chocolate?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Look, I wanted to explain about Charlotte.”

“Max, you don’t need to. As I said back at the apartment, I totally understand.”

“She’s not normally like that. Her husband, Richard, has to travel a lot with his work, so she’s alone with the kids most of the time. Lately, it seems to have really been getting her down, but I’m not sure—” He broke off and smiled ruefully. “Sorry. This is probably the last thing you want to talk about after the night you’ve had.”

“Of course I want to talk about it. You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

“She’s got a lot on her plate. And she never asks for help until she’s pushed to the limit.”

Maddy sat on the couch, drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

“Tell me about Eloise,” she asked quietly.

She wanted to know about Max’s world, about the people he cared about. More importantly, she wanted to ease the worried crease that had formed above his eyebrows. She wanted him to feel he could share his burdens with her, the way she’d shared hers with him.

He sat opposite her.

“What do you want to know?”

“How old is she? How long have you known she’s autistic?”

“She’s three. She had the first tests about eighteen months ago, but Charlotte already suspected something was wrong. Eloise was speech delayed, and she hardly ever made eye contact.”

“I don’t know much about autism,” Maddy admitted.

Max explained that there was still a lot of debate about what caused autism, and that patients were diagnosed on a spectrum. Some children grew up to have close to normal lives, while others remained profoundly isolated.

“Where does Eloise fit in?”

“It’s too early to judge. She’s responding well to early intervention, but there are no guarantees.”

“She was so upset,” she said.

“Current theory is that most autistic children are profoundly anxious a lot of the time. That’s why they respond well to routine—and badly to any break in it.”

“Right. That makes sense, I guess.”

Max yawned and stretched.

“I’m keeping you up,” she said guiltily.

“I probably should turn in,” he said, standing. “Yvette’s coming around early tomorrow.”

Right. Yvette.

“Good night,” she said.

He smiled faintly and headed for the bathroom. She watched him walk away.

She fought a sudden urge to race after him and put her arms around him. It seemed wrong that they would be sleeping in separate beds tonight when he was clearly troubled and in need of support. In the old days, if she’d thought he was upset or worried about something, she’d have come up with an excuse to crawl into bed with him.

Things had been a lot less complicated back then.

That’s because we hadn’t had sex.

It was true, but it was also less than the truth because what was going on between her and Max was about a lot more than just sex.

It was a scary thought, and not one she cared to examine too closely.

Stomach tied in knots, feeling inexplicably lonely, she went to bed.

MAX WOKE TO THE SOUND of humming filtering up from the kitchen below. He rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of workout pants then headed downstairs. He was shrugging into a T-shirt when he found Maddy slicing a baguette at the kitchen sink. She was showered and dressed and her eyes glowed with suppressed excitement when she greeted him.

“Guess what? Nadine called—finally—and she’s recovering from surgery herself.”

“That’s too bad. Is she all right?”

“A bunion, nothing major,” Maddy said. “Guess who her doctor is?”

“Let me see…Someone good? Who she can get you an appointment with?”

She threw the dish towel at him.

“Not just someone. Dr. Kooperman. The best of the best.” Maddy pressed her hands together. “I mean, Dr. Rambeau was great, but Dr. Kooperman! I’m pinching myself. Nadine has a follow-up appointment with him today, but she’s going to ask him if he will see me instead. Isn’t that amazingly generous of her?”

He’d heard of Kooperman. Most dancers had. He was long established, an early pioneer in dance medicine.

“Fantastic. Great news,” he said.

Even though it meant Maddy was one step closer to leaving.

“I know. I can’t believe it. Nadine called about an hour ago, and I’ve been jumping out of my skin ever since, dying to tell you. If I had to wait for an appointment the normal way, it would be months and months before he could see me.”

She was so energized it made him realize how subdued she’d been ever since she’d arrived. For a moment he was afraid for her. If she didn’t get the news she wanted from these specialists…

“I made you breakfast,” she said, sliding toasted slices of baguette toward him.

“What time is your appointment?” he asked as he sat.

“I’m not sure. Nadine needs to check that it’s okay with the doctor before she hands over her appointment time.”

She sat opposite him as he spread jam on his toast. Her right leg jittered up and down nervously, her foot tapping on the floor so fast it was practically vibrating.

“This could be it, Max. He’ll probably want to run some tests, but if he gives me good news, I can ring Andrew and force him to reinstate me.”

“You won’t need to force him, Maddy. You’re their star attraction.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “There’s always someone waiting in the wings. You know that. But they’ll have to honor my contract if I get the all clear.”

She’d practically packed her bags and boarded the plane already. He concentrated on his toast, making sure he spread the jam right to the edges. She’d only been back in his life for a few short days but she’d leave a huge hole when she left.

He gritted his teeth. He’d played the missing Maddy game before. He wasn’t looking forward to round two. He had a feeling it was going to be even more brutal the second time around. He’d slept with her, after all. He knew exactly what he was missing.

Aware that Yvette was due to arrive at any moment, he finished eating then crossed to his work area to set up his equipment and turn on the extra heater. Maddy began to clean the kitchen, once again humming beneath her breath.

“I was thinking that maybe I could call Charlotte today to thank her for dinner,” she said after a while.

He glanced up from his sketch pad.

“Probably not a great idea,” he said.

“Oh.”

She straightened the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“Maybe I could buy Eloise a gift, then?”

“To be honest, I think it’s probably best to just let Charlotte find her equilibrium.”

“She really doesn’t like me, does she?”

He considered lying, but they’d both been there last night.

“She doesn’t know you. What happened last night was about me not telling her something she felt she had a right to know and Charlotte being stressed. You happened to be standing nearby when the shit hit the fan.”

“Hmmm.”

The sound of frantic knocking at the front door had his head snapping around.

“Max!”

It was his sister’s voice, strident with emotion, and he reached the door in two strides.

“M-Max!” Charlotte stuttered the moment she saw him, her face crumpling. “Marcel has hurt himself at school. They said he fell down some stairs and hit his head and they rushed him straight to hospital.”

She was trembling. Max put an arm around her.

“It’s all right. Take a deep breath,” he said.

He waited until she’d done so before talking again.

“Which hospital?”

“Hôtel Dieu,” she said. “I’m going over now, but I can’t take Eloise. She’ll get too upset, and I need to be there for Marcel.”

“I’ll take her,” he said instantly, guessing that was what she wanted.

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you. I wish Richard was here. I need him. If something happens to Marcel—”

“Nothing will happen to him. Have you called Richard? Is he coming home?” He knew his brother-in-law was at yet another work conference somewhere in Europe.

“Yes. He was due home tonight anyway, but he’s trying to catch an earlier flight.”

“Good.”

Charlotte was on the verge of tears again. Her car keys were jingling in her hands she was shaking so much.

“After last night…It’s too much. I can’t keep doing this all on my own,” she said in a near whisper.

She sounded exhausted and near the end of her tether. He eyed her with concern, not liking the idea of her driving to the hospital in this condition.

He took her keys and went out to collect Eloise from the car, Charlotte hard on his heels.

“I brought some toys for her, and her favorite DVD,” Charlotte explained.

Eloise was playing with a brightly colored prism, oblivious to the drama around her. Thank heaven for small mercies, he thought as he pulled her into his arms while Charlotte grabbed the bag of toys.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be. I brought her pajamas, in case I have to stay in the hospital overnight.” Charlotte’s voice cracked and she started crying in earnest.

Max slid his free arm around her and hustled her back into the apartment.

“I’m going to call you a taxi,” he said. “You can’t drive like this.”

“No! I can’t wait for a taxi to come. I have to go now. Marcel needs me,” Charlotte said, rising hysteria in her voice.

He hesitated, unsure what to do. He hated the idea of her facing whatever waited at the hospital alone, but someone had to look after Eloise.

“Can I help?”

He swung around to see Maddy standing there, determination writ large on her face. They’d been speaking French, but she clearly understood that something was very wrong.

“I can’t be in two places at once,” he said, articulating his greatest dilemma.

“No,” Maddy said with a frown, and he realized he wasn’t making sense.

Quickly he explained the situation to her.

“What if I look after Eloise?” Maddy suggested.

“You’ve got your doctor’s appointment,” he reminded her.

Maddy shrugged. “I’ll call Nadine. I’m sure Dr. Kooperman can fit me in another time. I want to help, Max.”

He looked at Charlotte, saw she was battling to pull herself together, swallowing her tears and straightening her shoulders. She would cope, because she had so many times in the past. But he wanted to be there for her if he could.

“If you don’t mind, that would be a help,” he told Maddy. “I’ll set you up before we go. Charlotte brought Eloise’s favorite DVD. She’ll watch it as many times as you play it.”

Charlotte blew her nose into a tissue and looked set to wade into the discussion.

“This way I can stay with you,” he said, forestalling her.

Charlotte opened her mouth, then closed it again. She nodded.

“That would be nice, I think,” she said in a strangled voice.

It took him a couple of minutes to get Milo and Otis playing and prop Eloise in front of it.

“If she gets hungry, peanut butter sandwiches are her favorite,” he said as he led Charlotte toward the door. “I keep a jar in the kitchen.”

Maddy nodded with each instruction. Charlotte dug her heels in on the doorstep and turned to add her own instructions.

“She hates loud music, or any loud noises for that matter. There are spare diapers in the bag. And make sure that you do up all her buttons on her pajamas if we’re not home until late. She gets upset if her buttons aren’t all done up.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll call from the hospital,” Max said as he eased his sister from the house.

Maddy nodded an acknowledgment. She looked small but determined as he shut the door.

He knew exactly how much seeing Dr. Kooperman meant to her, yet she’d given up the opportunity without the bat of an eyelid.

If he hadn’t loved her already, that one act of generosity alone would have made him a goner.

If Maddy were his, the life they could build together…

But she wasn’t.

Grim, dragging his mind back to Marcel and the task at hand, Max started the car and pulled out into traffic.

AS MAX AND CHARLOTTE disappeared out the door, Maddy turned to study Eloise, bundled on the couch and staring at the television.

Despite what Maddy had said to Max, she was nervous. She knew nothing about children. Nada. Zilch. Zero. As for children with special needs…If something went wrong, she’d be absolutely clueless as to how to respond.

Before her imagination could get carried away drafting potential disasters, she took herself firmly in hand. Eloise was perfectly happy. She was watching her DVD, completely absorbed in the adventures of Milo and Otis. And Max was taking his sister to the hospital, offering Charlotte the support she needed.

Maddy’s thoughts shifted to Marcel. He was only six, and he’d fallen down stairs. She felt sick just thinking about it.

One eye on Eloise, she picked up her cell and phoned Nadine. Her friend sounded put out when Maddy told her she wouldn’t be able to accept her generous offer of her appointment. Nadine explained that she had already called Dr. Kooperman to ask his permission for the exchange and he had agreed to do so—but not before giving Nadine a hard time. Guilt assailing her from all sides, Maddy outlined the situation as best she could but when she hung up she had the distinct feeling she’d lost her chance at an early appointment with one of France’s best dance medicine specialists.

It had been a week since her fateful meeting with Andrew. The longest she’d gone without rehearsing in her life. She felt adrift, totally at sea without the familiar anchors of classes, rehearsals, gym sessions, costume fittings, meetings with choreographers and fellow dancers. She felt like an exile. And she hated it. She wanted her life back.

The familiar panicky dizziness hit her, and she forced herself to take big, deep belly breaths.

Eloise shifted on the couch, pulling at the blanket Max had wrapped around her. Maddy watched her, taking in her smooth brown hair and intent, serious round face. If Max had children one day, they would look like this, she realized. Dark, with his olive skin.

She shook her head, the moment of panic over. Eloise needed her. Max needed her. And she still had Dr. Rambeau lined up for next week. She would get at least one second opinion, even if it wouldn’t carry quite the same ring of authority that Dr. Kooperman’s would.

She straightened her shoulders and crossed to the couch to sit beside Eloise. The little girl didn’t acknowledge her in any way, not even with the flicker of an eyelid. Maddy sat back to watch the movie.

Milo and Otis were escaping from yet another near-death experience when the doorbell rang half an hour later. It was Yvette. Max had forgotten to call her and cancel their session. Maddy apologized on Max’s behalf and arranged for Max to call her to reschedule. To her credit, Yvette was all concern and asked Maddy to pass on her best wishes.

Maddy checked her watch as she crossed back to the couch. Why hadn’t Max called? Surely if it was good news, he would have rung by now?

She’d just reset the DVD to play for a second time when her cell phone rang.

“How is Marcel?” she asked.

“He has a bad concussion, and a broken arm. They need to operate to set it, so we’re going to be a while,” Max said.

“Nothing else?” she asked. She remembered a dancer who had tumbled from the stage a few years ago and fractured his skull. “No pressure or anything from the head injury?”

“They’ve scanned him, and it all looks normal. He’s got one hell of a bruise, though. He was damn lucky.”

She sagged with relief. “How is Charlotte?”

“Hanging in there. How are you and Eloise doing?”

“Milo and Otis still reign supreme, so I guess we’re hanging in there, too.”

There was a short pause and she could hear Max take a breath.

“I really appreciate you doing this,” he said. “You didn’t have to.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Max,” she said. “It was the least I could do.”

“But you’ve lost your chance to see Dr. Kooperman,” he said.

“I think your niece and nephew are a little more important than my ability to do a pirouette on stage,” she said.

There was a profound silence from Max’s end of the line for a few beats.

“Well, both Charlotte and I appreciate it,” he said. “We’ll have to work out some way to make it up to you.”

There was a low, warm note in his voice and her hand tightened around the receiver as a half dozen illicit, wrong, hot ideas for how he could do that flitted across her mind.

“I’d better get back to Milo and Otis,” she said.

“I’ll call later, give you a progress report.”

She ended the call and returned to her position on the couch next to Eloise. Once again the little girl didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way.

Maddy stared blindly at the television. Her heart was banging against her rib cage as though she’d just danced a solo. Because Max called? Because he’d said nice things to her and made her think about things it was best she never thought about again?

A grinding, clicking noise drew her attention back to the television. The picture was flashing off and on, the image distorted into pixels. She was reaching for the remote control when the machine gave a final mechanical groan and the picture died altogether, the screen cutting to blue.

“Oh, no.”

For the first time in two and a half hours, Eloise stirred. She frowned, plucking at her blanket.

“Okay. Okay,” Maddy said as she scrambled toward the DVD player.

Maybe the disk had a scratch on it. She pressed the power button on and off a few times, but nothing happened. She could smell a faint burned electrical odor. Not a good sign.

Behind her on the couch, Eloise began to protest. “Je veux le chat de chat!”

Maddy’s French was rusty, but she got the drift. Eloise wanted her movie back on, pronto.

“I don’t think that’s going to be possible, chérie,” she said. “Milo and Otis are having a petit sleep.”

Eloise was still staring at the television. Her expression darkened ominously. Maddy scooped up the colored prism Eloise had been so fascinated with earlier and handed it to her. Eloise gave it a single disinterested glance before letting it fall to the floor.

“What about lunch? You must be hungry, no?” Maddy tried next. “Très affamée, oui?”

She rushed to the kitchen and quickly slapped together a peanut butter sandwich. Eloise became more vocal with every minute, calling out in French for the movie to start again.

“Why don’t we eat lunch, first, sweetie?” Maddy suggested, offering Eloise the sandwich cut into quarters.

But Eloise simply wasn’t interested. She ignored the plate, pointing at the television. Her voice rising in pitch, she demanded Milo and Otis.

Maddy sat back on her heels. She had no idea what to do. Eloise had not made eye contact with her once, and Maddy didn’t know if the little girl could understand a word she was saying. Doubtful, given her autism and the fact that Maddy was speaking mostly English with a tiny smattering of French.

Maddy pounced on the bag of supplies Charlotte had brought with her, hauling out pajamas, diapers, some fruit snacks and a well-loved rag doll. She delivered the doll to Eloise with her heart in her mouth, but once again Eloise was not interested.

Just her luck—a kid who knew her own mind.

Eloise’s complaints were increasing in volume. Maddy stiffened with alarm as the little girl began to rock. For a split second she considered calling Max, but she didn’t want to add more pressure to what was already a stressful situation.

“Okay. It’s going to be okay, Eloise,” she said soothingly.

She glanced around the apartment, but nothing leaped out at her. In desperation, she did the one thing she was good at—she started to dance.

“Hey, look, mon petite, look at this,” she said as she did a pirouette, then an arabesque, followed by a deep plié.

She did another pirouette and realized that Eloise had stopped rocking. And for the first time all day, she was focusing on Maddy and following her every move.

A surge of relief washed through Maddy.

“You like this? You like le ballet?” She danced a few more steps and noticed that Eloise was moving her arms and legs in abbreviated imitations of what Maddy was doing.

“You want to dance, too?” she guessed.

She danced a few more steps, and again Eloise wriggled in time with her.

“Yes! You do want to dance. What a wonderful idea,” Maddy said.

Quickly she located Max’s stereo system and shoved the first disk she found into the tray. As Vivaldi’s Four Seasons poured into the room, she danced toward Eloise and held out her hands. Her excitement faltered as Eloise simply sat staring at her. Then, slowly, Eloise lifted her hands toward Maddy’s and allowed Maddy to pull her to her feet.

Maddy stepped from side to side, encouraging Eloise to copy her. Her tongue wedged between her lips, Eloise rocked back and forth on her chubby baby legs. Once the little girl was moving confidently, Maddy introduced a simple twirl. Eloise’s face lit with delight as she whirled in a circle, arms spread wide for balance.

She giggled, her small face flushed with pleasure. Warmth and an odd humbleness filled Maddy as she took in the pure joy on Eloise’s face. There was so much honesty there, no pretense or subterfuge or self-consciousness.

“You can feel the music, too, can’t you?” she said, even though she knew Eloise could not understand.

Totally immersed in the moment, Maddy began to string a series of simple steps together in her mind. Then, Eloise’s hands held fast in her own, Maddy showed her how to dance.

“SHE’LL BE FINE. When I spoke to Maddy they were still watching the DVD,” Max said.

Charlotte fretted beside him, hands fiddling with the seat belt as he wove through traffic. Richard had arrived at the hospital half an hour ago. Keen to collect Eloise and take her home, Charlotte had left him to sit with Marcel while Max drove her home. She claimed it was because she knew Eloise hated having her routine interrupted, but Max was aware it had far more to do with Charlotte having taken an irrational dislike to Maddy.

“You know I hate leaving Eloise with strangers,” Charlotte said. “It’s bad enough when they’re trained sitters.”

“Maddy’s perfectly capable of handling Eloise,” he said as they turned into his street.

Charlotte didn’t say anything. The moment the car drew to a halt, she was outside and heading for the door to his apartment.

Her expression became grim as she registered the music leaking from his apartment.

“I told her Eloise doesn’t like loud noises,” she said. “What does she think she’s doing?”

Despite his firm belief in Maddy’s capabilities, he felt a twinge of concern. He’d seen Eloise howl a dozen times in reaction to anything overly loud.

He opened the door and they both froze on the threshold, surprised into stillness by the sight of Maddy and Eloise dancing together in the center of his work space.

Maddy was leading, her movements simple but graceful, and Eloise was imitating her, pirouetting, leaping, spinning and gliding in a child’s interpretation of the choreography. Both were oblivious to their audience, utterly swept up in the moment.

Max’s heart squeezed in his chest as he saw how much pleasure Eloise was taking from the experience. Her gray eyes sparkled with delight, and he could hear her laughing above the music.

Charlotte clutched his forearm, her expression torn between shock and amazement. Then Maddy caught sight of them and stopped in her tracks. Her hair had come loose from its topknot and hung in wispy strands around her face and neck. She was flushed, her violet-brown eyes shiny with laughter and fun.

She had never looked more beautiful to him.

“You’re back,” Maddy said, reaching for the remote control and silencing the music.

Eloise made a noise of protest as she registered that the dancing was over.

“But she hates music,” Charlotte said. “I’ve tried everything. The Wiggles, Disney songs…”

“She loves to dance,” Maddy said with a shrug. “She’s a natural.”

Charlotte shook her head, bemused.

“The DVD player died,” Maddy said. “I couldn’t find anything else she was interested in, so…we danced.”

“You have good instincts. Most autistic children love music and movement. But for some reason Eloise never has,” he said.

“Until now,” Charlotte said. The look she sent Maddy was searching. “Perhaps she simply didn’t have the right teacher.”

Maddy shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I didn’t do anything special.”

Charlotte approached her daughter and knelt so that they were on the same level. Touching Eloise’s arm to gain her attention, she held out her arms.

“Maman is here,” she said with a small smile.

Eloise’s mouth quirked to one side in recognition, and she allowed herself to be embraced. Charlotte closed her eyes, savoring the contact.

“How is Marcel?” Maddy asked.

“Out of surgery. Richard is with him. He will have to stay in overnight but with luck he can come home tomorrow,” Max explained. “The doctors are very happy with everything, so it seems the worst is over.”

“Oh. That’s good news,” Maddy said with an earnest nod. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked self-conscious, he realized. Then he understood that she was worried that she’d done the wrong thing with Eloise. Before he could reassure her, Charlotte spoke up.

“I owe you an apology, Maddy,” Charlotte said in her forth-right way. “I was rude last night. Inexcusably so. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for looking after Eloise today, and for making her smile. We don’t see enough of that in our house.”

She held out her hand for Maddy to shake, and Maddy blinked with obvious surprise before taking it.

“It was my pleasure. We had a lovely time,” she said.

“You will have to show me what to do, so Eloise can have a lovely time again,” Charlotte said. “And perhaps I could buy you a coffee sometime and we could start again?”

“Of course,” Maddy said with a shy smile. “Anytime.”

Charlotte looked relieved as she turned to Max. “Thank you for today. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I feel like I have been saying that to you a lot lately.”

“You know I’m happy to help,” he said.

“Still. You have stepped in for us too many times. And I have been pulling my hair out too often. Richard and I will be having some serious talks tonight,” Charlotte said solemnly. “Perhaps it is time for him to change jobs.”

Max knew that Richard and Charlotte had been walking a fine line the past few years, trying to balance the demands of Richard’s high-paying job with the demands of home. They needed the extra income to fund Eloise’s early intervention therapies, but Charlotte was clearly reaching the end of her endurance in her role as single parent in all but name.

“Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” he said.

His sister flashed him a grateful smile as she began to collect Eloise’s things. Maddy extracted the DVD from the broken player and handed it over, then they were out the door, Eloise pressing her face into her mother’s neck as Charlotte carried her to the car.

Silence reigned for a long beat after the door closed behind them. Maddy let out a big sigh and flapped the front of her T-shirt.

“Is it hot in here or is it just me?” she asked. “I can’t believe Eloise’s stamina. She wouldn’t let me rest for a second.”

He wondered what she would do if he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms and kissed her the way he wanted to right now. She looked so small and strong and sexy standing there. He was fast running out of self-control where she was concerned.

A knock called him back to the front door. It was Charlotte again. She thrust two tickets into his hand.

“Last interruption for the day, I promise. I nearly forgot these. Richard bought them for me for my birthday, but we will not be going to the ballet tonight,” she said drily. “You and Maddy go, please. As a thank-you from us both. They will go to waste otherwise.”

She flashed Maddy a last smile then was gone again. He studied the tickets. Dress circle, front and center. Good seats.

“What do you think?” he said, glancing at Maddy. “The Garnier Opera Ballet performing The Nutcracker?”

“Anna mentioned it when we spoke about Dr. Rambeau,” she said. “She’s dancing the role of Clara.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, still waiting for an answer to his original question. She nodded.

“Why not?”

“You can glam up. I remember how you like a big event.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on the other side of the curtain,” she admitted.

“I’ll take you for dinner afterward,” he said impulsively. The idea of wining and dining her held enormous appeal—sitting across a small table from her, sharing good food and fine wine, savoring the flicker of candlelight on her beautiful face. So what if it didn’t mean anything and would never lead anywhere? It was a harmless enough self-indulgence, as self-indulgences went.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe I want to,” he said before he could edit himself.

Awareness crackled between them for a heated moment as they locked eyes. It was the closest he’d ever come to declaring his interest in her. The memory of those few hot moments in the darkness behind The Gypsy Bar hung heavily between them. Maddy broke eye contact, her gaze sliding over his shoulder.

Reality washed over him, cool and undeniable.

You’re her friend, remember, idiot? She doesn’t want you looking at her like that or taking her out for intimate dinners or anything remotely romantic.

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

“Maybe we should just have something at home,” he said.

“That’s probably a good idea.”

He bit down on a grim smile. Yeah, he was full of good ideas lately. Just full of them.

MADDY STRAIGHTENED her spine as she climbed the stairs from the Metro station at Place D’Opera in the fourth arrondissement later that evening. Cool night air rushed at her as they stepped from the warmth of underground. She took a moment to absorb their surroundings—the stately buildings, the brightly lit cafés, the art-nouveau streetlights, the well-dressed Parisians rushing past. She swiveled on her heel and caught her first glance of the soaring white Opera Garnier, home to the Garnier Ballet, with its sweeping colonnaded front and gleaming gold statues ranged along the roofline.

“I always forget how beautiful it is,” she said as she craned her neck.

Max smiled indulgently and she gave him a dry look.

“That’s the problem with you Europeans. You have so many beautiful buildings you take them for granted,” she said as he led her across the street to the entrance.

“The way you Australians take your beaches for granted,” he said.

She glanced at the facade again and her heart seemed to shimmy in her chest all of a sudden. A strange tension had been building inside her through the whole of their train ride. It took her a few seconds to recognize it: almost, but not quite, stage fright. She tried to shake it off, but the feeling persisted as they entered the foyer and were dazzled by the huge marble columns and elaborate gilt work.

She flashed back to the first time she’d performed here, five years ago. She’d been twenty-four, touring with the Royal Ballet out of London. It had been one of her first solo roles, and she’d sent Max tickets to see her dance. All night she had imagined him in the audience, imagined that she was dancing especially for him. She’d only found out afterward that his father had been ill and he’d been unable to make it.

She could feel him watching her and she forced a smile.

“Lots of memories,” she said.

“Yes. When I was growing up, it was always my dream to dance here,” he said.

A dream he’d never achieved, she knew. He started up the first flight of marble steps that would take them to the dress circle. She couldn’t help but notice the tide of feminine interest that followed in his wake like a vapor trail.

No wonder.

She’d been hard put not to stare back at the apartment, either, when she’d come out of the bathroom in her rose print dress to find him waiting for her. His crisp white shirt, black velvet jacket and waistcoat and charcoal wool trousers fit him to perfection. His clear gray eyes were set off perfectly by the shadowy stubble on his jaw.

On any other man, the velvet would be a clear signal to lock up the Judy Garland collection, but on Max it looked elegant and refined and just right. Very French. Very sexy.

She stared after him for a long moment, aware that she was stalling. For some reason, she was loath to take her seat and watch this performance. Which was crazy. It was one of her favorite ballets and the production promised to be lavish and spectacular. Anna would be dancing, and the rest of the company were all highly experienced, excellent performers. She and Max were in for a treat.

So why did she feel as though she wanted to turn tail and run?

At the top of the stairs, Max stopped to glance at her. His expression was quizzical. He was wondering what the hell she was hanging around for. She made herself move.

“You okay?” he asked when she joined him.

Again she forced a smile. “Of course.”

They ascended to the dress circle level and an usher guided them to their row. Max took her coat from her and folded it carefully over the back of her seat. She smoothed the skirt of her rose print dress and sat, concentrating on their ornate surroundings in the hope that her inappropriate nerves would dissipate.

They were surrounded on all sides by well-heeled Parisians and gawking tourists. The low hum of conversation filled the lush, velvet and gilt theater. She dropped her head back to admire the colorful ceiling painting by Chagall. She’d always liked it, although she knew many considered it sacrilege that a painter had been allowed to decorate such a historical theater with a quintessentially modern piece.

The sharp notes of the violinists readying their instruments made her start in her seat. The performance was about to begin.

Her hands found the arms of her chair. She gripped them hard as the lights dimmed. She could feel Max watching her, puzzled by her stiff posture and obvious tension. She knew she should reassure him, but the words stuck in her throat.

The orchestra launched the prelude, the violins leaping above the deeper notes of the bass and brass. The curtain trembled, then rose. She imagined the dancers poised in the wings, ready to perform.

Then, suddenly, the first dancers exploded onto the stage in a flurry of movement, leaping across the space in gravity-defying grand jetés. Two men and two women, dancing in perfect time, dressed in lavish, traditional costumes.

It was beautiful, compelling, stirring.

Maddy slid to the edge of her seat, eyes glued to the stage as she followed their every move. She saw the precision of their turns, the power of their leaps, the practiced skill in their lifts and pirouettes. She held her breath for them, tensed her muscles for them.

Then the soloists came on, one man, one woman.

Her eyes filled with tears as she tracked the graceful power of their dancing. The female lead spun and her partner caught her; she fled and he pursued; he jumped, she soared after him.

The audience watched, rapt, held in thrall by their skill.

And suddenly, in a rush of blinding clarity, she knew.

She couldn’t do this anymore.

Andrew and Dr. Hanson had been right. Her body was old, not up to the sort of effort she saw on the stage before her. In her heart of hearts, she’d known it for some time.

She just hadn’t been ready to face it.

She would never dance professionally again.