Free Dance to the Piper by Nora Roberts Page B

himself from her. She sensed it and wondered whether he had felt the same intensity between them. "What does success mean to you?"
    "When I was sixteen, it meant Broadway." She looked around the quiet restaurant and nearly sighed. "In some ways, it still does."
    "Then you have it."
    He didn't understand, nor did she expect him to. "I feel successful because I tell myself the show's going to be a smash. I don't let myself think it might flop."
    "You wear blinders, then."
    "Oh, no. Rose-colored glasses, but never blinders. You're a realist. I suppose I like that in you because it's so different from what I am. I like to pretend."
    "You can't run a business on illusions."
    "And your personal life?"
    "That either."
    Interested, she leaned forward. "Why not?"
    "Because you can only make things work your way if you know what's real and what's not."
    "I like to think you can make things real."
    "Valentine!"
    Reed's considering frown lingered as he glanced up at a tall, lanky man in a peach jacket and a melon tie. "Selby. How are you?"
    "Fine. Just fine." The man sent Maddy a long look. "It looks like I'm interrupting, and I hate to use a tired line, but have we met before?"
    "No." Maddy extended her hand with the easy friendship she showed everyone.
    "Maddy O'Hurley. Allen Selby."
    "Maddy O'Hurley?" Selby cut into Reed's introduction and squeezed Maddy's hand. "This is a pleasure. I saw Suzanna's Park twice."
    She didn't like the feel of his hand, but she always hated herself when she made snap judgments. "Then it's my pleasure."
    "I'd heard Valentine was dipping into Broadway, Reed."
    "Word gets around." Reed poured the last of the wine into Maddy's glass. "Allen is the head of Galloway Records."
    "Friendly competitors," Selby assured her, and Maddy got the distinct impression that he'd cut Reed's professional throat at the first opportunity. "Have you ever considered a solo album, Maddy?"
    She toyed with the stem of her glass. "It's a difficult thing to admit to a record producer, but singing's not my strong point."
    "If Reed doesn't convince you differently, come see me." He laid a hand on Reed's shoulder as he spoke. No, she didn't like those hands, she thought again. It couldn't be helped. Maddy noticed that Reed's eyes frosted over, but he merely picked up his glass. "Wish I could join you for some coffee," Selby went on, ignoring the fact he hadn't been asked, "but I'm meeting a client for dinner. Give my best to your old man, Reed. Think about that album now." He winked at Maddy, then sauntered off to his own table.
    Maddy waited a beat, then finished off the rest of her wine. "Do most record producers dress like they're part of a fruit salad?"
    Reed stared at her a moment, seeing the bland, curious smile. The tension dissolved into laughter. "Selby's one of a kind."
    She took his hand again, delighted to have made him laugh. "So are you."
    "Do I need time to decide if that was a compliment or an insult?"
    "A definite compliment." She glanced over to where Selby was signaling a waiter. "You don't like him."
    He didn't pretend not to understand who she was referring to. "We're business rivals."
    "No," Maddy said with a shake of her head. "You don't like him . Personally."
    That interested him, because he had a well-earned reputation for concealing his emotions. "Why do you say that?"
    "Because your eyes iced over." Involuntarily she shivered. "I'd hate to be looked at that way. Anyway, you won't gossip, and you're annoyed that he's here, so why don't we go?"
    When they walked outside again, the heat of the day had eased. Traffic had thinned. Hooking her arm through his, Maddy breathed in the rough night air that was New York. "Can we walk awhile? It's too nice to jump right into a cab."
    They strolled down the sidewalk, past dark store windows and closed shops. "Selby had a point, you know. With the right material, you could make a very solid album."
    She shrugged. That had never been part of her dream, though she wouldn't