Two Lives in Waltz Time Read online

  Especially when Maddy found herself unable to tear away as the oils started to soak into her hand as well.

  “Hold on,” Cash said. His breathing was growing heavier, speech more difficult. “I think things are about to go to he—”

  His last word was lost in a deafening white flash.

  Chapter Two

  She blinked. She had to, because what she was seeing, she wasn’t really seeing. It wasn’t possible. Yet, the reflection that stared back at Maddy looked just as real as the one she’d had in the museum bathroom, and when she reached forward to touch the mirror, the glass was just as cold and hard. Only the image was different.

  But oh, how different it was.

  Everything about her was immaculate. Her golden hair was perfectly coiffed, ends curled under, the left side swept back and held in place with a large white flower. Equally flawless was her makeup, highlighted by the ruby gloss that detailed the fullness of her lips. Dramatic, but effective.

  Her gaze swept down, and her breath caught in her throat. Gone was the faded novelty T-shirt and baggy sweat shorts she’d borrowed from Ava. In its place was a lush dress of rusty red velvet that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

  It sat slightly off her shoulders, extending down into form-fitting, three-quarter-length sleeves, with small fabric-covered buttons running along the center of the bodice. From the princess waist, it fell in sweeping folds to the hem that skimmed the floor, hiding the heels she felt strapped to her feet. Although it covered more than it showed, the dress clung to her with a sensual grace that left very little to the imagination, her breasts rising in gentle swells above the sweetheart neckline, her waist made even tinier by the gown’s fine boning.

  Slowly, Maddy turned around, her eyes locked on her reflection as she examined the view from the rear. More opulence, more elegance. She completed the rotation with even more anxiety than when she’d started. She looked like something out of a movie.

  Or a mysterious painting she should never have opened.

  Her head spun as she grabbed the edge of the dressing table at her side. The museum’s storage room had disappeared as well, replaced by the airy dressing room in which she now found herself. Squeezing her eyes shut, Maddy tried to block out the rush of memories threatening to overwhelm her, only to fail miserably as they bumped and collided for her attention.

  The crawling sensations as the various colors seeped into her skin.

  The weird tugging at her gut, drawing her forward.

  The wind whistling past her ears, although she knew her body wasn’t actually moving.

  All punctuated by the blinding flash that had cut Cash off mid-sentence.

  Her lids snapped open. “Cash,” she muttered with more than a hint of venom. Whatever had happened, whatever nightmare she’d been sucked into, was his fault. The fact that the world she recognized was nowhere to be seen could only be attributed to that damn painting, and since it had come to him—not to mention, he’d been the one to touch it when any imbecile knew that the oil in human skin could completely ruin a painting—he was the one to blame.

  With a graceful swirl of her skirt, Maddy whirled and marched for the door.

  The music hit him first, soft rhythmic swells that coaxed even the most reluctant feet to move. Then it was the scents, too many perfumes mingling with even more colognes. By the time he saw the couples spinning around the dance floor, Cash had little doubt where he was, and the knowledge that he had fallen for the stupid trick made him growl in frustration.

  “Which one is it?”

  The masculine rumble was too low for anyone else to hear, but Cash’s head whipped to the left, his gaze taking in the bulky form of the tuxedoed man who towered beside him. He was taller than Cash by at least six inches, and though his black hair had flecks of steel at the temples, there was no way he could be older than thirty. The stranger’s ebony eyes darted around the room with the agitation of a moth looking for a place to alight, his shoulders stiff from a barely contained strength. In spite of the fleshy rolls around his neck and the thickening waistline, the man exuded power, prompting Cash to stand straighter.

  “Which one’s what?” he asked carefully.

  The man looked down at him with a small frown that drew his dark brows closer together. “You made that noise. So, which one’s the meat? I haven’t had a chance to do a number on anyone all night.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, audibly cracking his knuckles with the movements, and stretched his neck within the collar of his crisp white shirt, almost as if he were warming up for a fight.

  Cash’s green eyes narrowed as his head slowly swiveled back to survey his surroundings a little more closely. It was the painting, all right—although the doorway in which he stood would have been off-frame—and this was a nightclub of some sort, set smack dab in the middle of what looked like 1940s America. The magic holding it together was good, excellent even, because everything around him felt real, right down to the way his shoes pinched his toes.

  “Well, Cash?” the man prompted.

  The realization that he was known here, that somehow he’d been integrated into this milieu, was not lost on him. That made the threat even more insidious. It would require a great deal of power to make a spell so thorough. He would have to tread carefully until he figured out what was going on.

  “False alarm.” On a whim, he added, “He backed off.”

  The man deflated in disappointment. “Girls are getting too good,” he muttered. “They’re keeping ’em hands off on the floor all the time now. Pretty soon, they won’t even need us.” He smirked. “Too bad we’re not allowed in the private parties, huh? They are some lucky bastards, lemme tell you. Though not as lucky as you, y’know. Must be nice having a permanent invite. Plus, you’re keeping her off the market. I know some guys are pretty upset—”

  “You talk too much, Gino.” The male voice belonged to yet a new arrival, this one tuxedoed as well, who had come up on his partner’s far side. “He bothering you, Vinci?”

  Glancing up at Gino’s suddenly scared face, Cash shrugged. “He’s just bored,” he said, fishing for anything that might make sense, given the current situation. “Been a slow night.”

  That seemed to be the only explanation the other man needed. “Just lemme know if he’s any trouble,” he said, already turning away and melting into the crowd at the bar.

  Once it was just the two of them again, Gino sighed in relief, broad shoulders sagging as he smiled down at Cash. “Thanks. They told me you were a stand-up guy. Glad they were right.”

  What was he supposed to say to that? Apparently, in the magical painting world, he had some kind of rep. Respect, even. A slow smile lit his face. It had been far too long since he had felt the power of having people look up to him, and truth be told, he’d missed it. His life in New York was all right, but compared to how things had been in London years earlier, it was but a pale shadow. The only thing that gave it any spark was Maddy.

  Thought of the small blonde reminded him of what had happened in the storage room. Looking at the painting, he’d fallen prey to its charm all too easily, reaching to touch it when every instinct screamed at him not to. But when Maddy had tried to stop him, latching onto his wrist, the force of the magic had refused to let her go, sucking her in as well.

  How in hell was he going to explain this to her without sounding like a lunatic?

  Explanations were secondary, though. First, he had to find her.

  Cash scanned the dance floor, his gaze lighting on every blonde he saw, waiting for the woman to turn around, only to become increasingly agitated when none of them turned out to be Maddy.

  Gino grinned. “Damn, you really are dizzy for that dame, aren’t you? You didn’t last five minutes before you started looking for her this time.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Cash asked, not really paying attention as he continued his visual search.

  “Maddy. You’re looking for her, right?”

  Her
name commanded his attention, and he turned to face Gino. “You know where she is?”

  “Well, yeah. At least, I can make it a pretty good guess.” He laughed. “You of all people should know she’s the last of the girls to hit the floor. She’s probably still in the back, getting all dolled up…”

  Cash didn’t hear the rest of it as he bolted from the doorway, skirting around the edge of the club as he hurried for the far exit. Hopefully he’d find Maddy before the impossibility of the situation drove her to do something reckless. Knowing Maddy, that was almost a certainty.

  The stark difference in lighting between the brilliance of the dance floor and the duskiness of the back hallways blinded him. Pausing, Cash waited while his vision adjusted before looking around for anything that might pass as a dressing room. His search was short. Within moments, his gaze fell upon a pair arguing in the hall, a scrawny kid with a pitiful excuse of a moustache and a clipboard clutched tightly in his bony hands, and a woman in red.

  His eyes shot wide.

  Not just any woman. Hell, that was Maddy.

  She was resplendent. Even turned partially away from him, he could see her scarlet mouth, made even more impossibly luscious by the makeup he was unaccustomed to her wearing, and the line of her jaw, exposed by the upsweep of her golden hair. She was lashing into the poor kid, her fury lending her features that edge Cash knew oh so well, and the familiar stirrings of desire began to pulse through his body. He spent a lot of time around Maddy hard as a rock. Between the passion she brought to her work and the passion with which she fought him on a daily basis, it was impossible not to imagine how that fire would translate into the bedroom. The best part about it was she was completely oblivious to what she did to him.

  Involuntarily, he took a step closer. Those few extra inches scattered the last of the shadows that shrouded her from his view, and his cock jumped to full attention. The dress she wore made promises that any man would’ve been unable to ignore, hugging Maddy’s body like a second skin. Rich crushed velvet demanded he reach forward and stroke it, but before he could consciously squash the notion as suicidal, her head turned, her blue eyes trapping him in place.

  “…because I’m not…” The flash of movement out of the corner of her eye diverted Maddy’s attention from the idiot standing in front of her. She only meant to glance over, see what it was, but when the blaze of black and white emerged from the shadows—lean hips and broad shoulders accentuated by a double-breasted tuxedo jacket—she was riveted.

  Whoa. Cash cleans up good.

  His hand was thrust jauntily in his pants’ pocket, pulling enough at his hips to hint at a pronounced arousal, but it was the green burn of his eyes as they swept over her body that sucked the air from her lungs. There was hunger there, and something more, something like she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. It took a second for her to snap out of it, reminding herself that this was Cash she was staring at, the same Cash who made it his personal mission in life to torture her and the same Cash who was responsible for whatever was going on in the first place. It didn’t matter that he looked utterly delicious.

  Breaking away from her dispute, Maddy marched over, the velvet of her skirt a luxuriant swish against her legs. “Where the hell have you been?” she hissed as she approached.

  Some of his relaxed demeanor vanished. “Why do you get to be the pissed off one?”

  “Because it’s your stupid painting!”

  “No one asked you to grab me.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Unless you’re regretting not grabbing something else—”

  She rolled her eyes. “We are not going back to that again.”

  “Something else catching your fancy, then?”

  “You mean other than this massive hallucination you seem to have put into my head?” Realizing her voice carried more than she wanted, Maddy glanced over her shoulder at the young man who still watched her. “I swear,” she said, deliberately lowering her tone, “when I wake up, I am going to make you pay for this, Cash. I don’t care if you’re just some figment of my imagination right now.”

  His amusement turned into a full-blown grin. “I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a dream.”

  “It has to be.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because people don’t just get sucked into paintings! It’s not possible!”

  He chuckled. “I love it when you’re so adamant. It makes proving you wrong more fun.”

  “There’s no way you can—ow!” Her hand slapped over the spot on her arm where he’d pinched her. “What did you go and do that for?”

  “To prove you’re not sleeping.”

  She hated the matter-of-fact tone of his voice, but it was the fact he wasn’t surprised by any of this new scenario that really infuriated her. “You know what’s going on here.” She poked him in the chest, distantly realizing he was a lot more fit than he had any right to be. “Is it drugs in the paint or something? And this is just some elaborate mind trip?”

  “No, I told you. No dream, no trip, no pretend.” Cash took a deep breath, running a long hand through his dark curls. “Believe it or not…it’s magic.”

  Her bark of laughter was unexpected, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. “Oh, that’s good,” she said between giggles. “And Scratchy back there keeps trying to drag me out front because…?”

  “Because it’s your job. You’re one of the dancers here.” Taking her by the shoulders, Cash held her steady as he leaned closer. “Get it together, Cardinale. I know it seems a little unreal, but I promise, I can explain once we don’t have an audience. Right now, though, we need to play along.”

  She was about to ask what he expected her to do, even going so far as to open her mouth to speak, when a door directly opposite them slammed open and a portly older man, face red with anger, stepped into the hall.

  “You two,” he barked, jabbing a lit cigar at Maddy and Cash. “In my office. Now.” He whirled, disappearing from view, and left the pair looking at each other in confusion.

  Cash was the first to break free. “You heard the man.” He swept his arm toward the open door. “Ladies first.”

  The office was everything he’d expected it to be—dimly lit, heavy, dark furniture, a tall liquor cabinet towering against the wall. Not much else occupied the small space, and Cash, standing behind and off to Maddy’s side, watched as the man who’d ordered them in settled into his chair, the leather squeaking in protest from his weight.

  “Why do you do it to me?” the man asked, his watery blue eyes resting on the pair. “You know I like you. Hell, you two are probably my favorite employees in the whole joint. But you’re setting a bad example. Lola—Lola!—actually had the balls to come in here and tell me she’s going to be late on Saturday, all ’cause of some newshawk she met at a coffee shop. On our busiest night! And guess who she says talked her into it?”

  Chewing on his cigar, he rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other while he waited for one of them to respond. When neither spoke up, he sighed and took the cigar out of his mouth to point it at Maddy.

  “I like you. That’s why I pulled you from the active duty roster when you two made your little announcement.” His watery gaze flickered to Cash, assessing him for the briefest of seconds. “Well, that and because your boyfriend here threatened to tear out my eyeballs if I didn’t. But you can’t be putting those kinds of notions in the other girls’ heads. It ain’t right.”

  Cash had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling. Regardless of whatever verisimilitude the owner of the painting had been trying to create, the guy had a twisted sense of humor about it all.

  It dawned on him that Maddy must have missed the casual reference to boyfriend. “I’m…sorry,” she stammered, her earlier anger masked by her growing bewilderment regarding their situation. “It won’t happen again.”

  The man smiled, his fleshy face creasing into multiple folds. “That’s my girl,” he said, and then held up hi
s hands in mock horror. “Oops, sorry, Cash. Old habit. Guess I’m still getting used to the whole idea of you two getting hitched.”

  Apparently, being called a boyfriend was one thing. This was something else altogether.

  “What?” Maddy exploded. “Cash and I are not getting married!”

  For the first time since they’d entered, the man frowned. “Since when? You two just—” A sharp rap at the door commanded his attention. “What?” he snapped.

  The door opened, and the young man with the clipboard poked his head in. “Gino needs Cash out front pronto, Mr. Lombardi,” he said, keeping his eyes averted from Maddy.

  “Tell him he’ll be there in a sec.” As soon as they were alone again, the boss stood and came around the desk to square off with the pair. “If this engagement’s off, you’re going back on the roster, Maddy. I’ve got at least three guys here tonight—”

  Cash reacted on instinct. Slipping his arm around Maddy’s waist, he pulled her back against his chest. “It’s not off.” She tensed within his embrace. Before she could break away, he leaned in, pretending to nuzzle her neck. “Go with me on this,” he whispered.

  Lombardi’s eyes narrowed. “But she just said—”

  “One little fight and she’s ready to pack it in. Trust me. Everything’s still very much a go.”

  “Well…” His gaze flickered over Maddy, still unsure. “If you say so, Cash.”

  “I do.”

  Lombardi jabbed his cigar at them. “Stop messing with my head, young lady,” he admonished. “And what’ve I told you about your dresses? Customers want skin.”

  Cash’s arm tightened. “She looks like heaven in Technicolor, and you know it.”

  With a sigh, Lombardi shook his head. “Fuck if I know why I put up with you two. If you weren’t the best in the biz, I’d’ve tossed you out the minute I found out you two were shacking up.” He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “Now get back to work before I change my mind about the roster.”