by Francis Ray
“Love can bring as much pain as it can bring happiness.” Sabra continued to play.
Isabella, as if sensing her mistress’s sadness, stuck her head beneath Pierce’s hand. Absently, he scratched behind the dog’s ears.
“True, but the pain is worth the pleasure,” Ruth said.
“I wonder,” Sabra said softly, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains.
Ruth swiveled on the piano seat. “Thanks again, Pierce. This must be boring, since you’re not a fan of Broadway.”
Sabra looked over her shoulder at him. Her hands paused over the keys; then she continued. “Good-bye, Pierce.”
Left without a choice, Pierce give Isabella one last scratch, then quietly left, wishing the dog’s owner were as easy to get to know. Outside the door, he listened to the music and the soft laughter of the women.
They had certainly hit it off. He hadn’t expected any different. His mother was open and honest, and she loved people and music. He was also aware that her love of music meant that she often lost track of time. The two women could be there for ten minutes or two hours. After one last look at the door, he came to a quick decision.
Letting himself into his condo next door, he washed up, then called the sandwich shop downstairs for takeout. Hanging up the phone, he was out the door and striding toward the elevator.
If he’d had time he would have called for a to-go order at Brandon’s restaurant. It would be just his luck, the way things were going, that his mother and Sabra would leave while he was going to get the food. As it was, he kept an eye on the bank of elevators while the sandwiches were prepared.
Paying for the food, Pierce hurried back upstairs. Balancing the three white paper bags, he rang the doorbell, then rang again when there was no answer. He knew they were inside. He could hear Sabra singing “I’ll Always Love You.” Didn’t she know any happy songs?
When he was about to ring the doorbell again, the door opened. “Pierce?”
He lifted the bags to his mother’s unspoken question. “I thought you and Sabra might like to stay in and talk.”
His mother smiled and stepped back. “What a nice way of saying I lose track of time.”
He was aware that Sabra had yet to say a word. She just watched him with those beautiful eyes of hers. He went to the kitchen and started unloading the bags. The women and Isabella followed. “I didn’t know if you were a vegetarian or not, but I took a chance you weren’t, since you have Isabella.”
At the mention of the dog’s name, she barked. Pierce chuckled and took another sandwich from the bag. “I didn’t forget you.” He looked at Sabra. “Meat lovers’ special.”
Sabra looked at Isabella, who was on her hindquarters looking up at Pierce with utter devotion and greed. “She’ll be your slave forever.”
“I’d settle for a friend.”
“Pierce, her bowls are on the counter,” Ruth said. “I’ll take care of this. Sabra, there’re napkins and place mats in the middle drawer.”
Sabra did as his mother asked. Pierce’s lips twitched. His mother might be in awe of Sabra, but that didn’t mean Ruth wouldn’t order her around just as she did her children, students, and just about everyone else. Since she often went out of her way to help anyone in need, no one objected.
Obtaining the bowls, Pierce filled one with water, put the sandwich in the other, and set them on the slate gray terrazzo floor. “You two go ahead and eat. I’ll take care of Isabella.”
“You aren’t joining us?” Sabra held a third red linen place mat and napkin in her hands.
“I didn’t want to intrude.” He pushed to his feet.
“You wouldn’t be. Perhaps we can broaden your scope on Broadway,” Sabra said.
Pierce smiled and pulled out her chair and then his mother’s. “You’re welcome to try.”
Ruth bowed her head and blessed the food. “When you were in the Broadway production of Carmen, my children gave me front-row tickets.”
Sabra paused in taking a bite out of her turkey and ham sandwich. “Children?”
“There are five of us,” Pierce happily said, taking a large bite out of his own turkey and ham sandwich.
“My daughter, Sierra, the youngest, is a realtor. It so happens she owns this condo, but leases it out. Pierce is the fourth child and fourth son.” Ruth looked at him with a frown. “And at times the most difficult.”
Pierce almost choked on his sandwich. The last thing he wanted his mother to talk about was her opinion that he was dragging his feet getting married. “Why Broadway?” he asked, hoping to get them back on the topic. He was having a difficult enough time as it was with Sabra.
Sabra looked from him to his mother as if aware that there was more to the story, but she was too polite to ask. “I like the challenge, the intimacy of being there with the audience. There’s nothing like it for an emotional high.”
Pierce could think of a couple of things. “You must have a busy schedule.”
Sabra swallowed before answering. “Eight shows a week can be grueling. You have to be at the theater hours before the show, then another two and a half to three hours for the production. Many times I didn’t get home until after midnight.”
Pierce frowned. “I thought it was more glamorous.”
“Most people do.” Sabra folded her slim hands on the table. “People who come to New York for the first time are astounded by the huge billboards and all the theaters, some of which don’t have glamorous façades, but it’s the magic that happens on the inside that counts. You go out each night to give your best. No retakes.”
“That sounds grueling and a bit lonely,” Pierce said.
“It can be, but in most things you have to give up something to get what you want.” Sabra sipped her iced tea from the plastic cup. “It’s not the audience’s fault if you’re tired or had a bad day. They paid their money for you to be the best you can be.”
“I hate that I’ve never seen you perform,” he said, meaning it.
“That will be corrected in four weeks.” Ruth placed her napkin on the table by her plate. “The play is wonderful, the music outstanding, and when they hear Sabra sing, they’ll be moved.”
“I was,” Pierce said casually, watching Sabra clench and unclench her hand. “Are you writing from experience?”
She looked startled for a moment, then put her hands in her lap. “I started the play a while ago. After my father passed away four months ago I finally finished and added the songs for him.”
“I’m sorry,” Pierce said, instantly contrite. The pain in her eyes made him want to kick himself, then take her in his arms and comfort her.
“It was his heart.” Sabra swallowed and blinked several times. “He’d never been ill a day in his life. People should cherish and enjoy every second they have because the next day, the next moment, isn’t promised. It’s too late for regrets once they’re gone. Daddy knew I loved him, but I wish we would have had more time.”
Ruth briefly closed her eyes. “Love and good memories help when nothing else can.”
“Mama,” Pierce said softly, gently sliding his hand down her arm.
Sabra placed her hand over Ruth’s in obvious empathy. “They would have known. I’ve only known you for a short while, but I can tell you’re a woman who loves with all her heart.”
Ruth’s hand covered the other woman’s. Oddly, Pierce wasn’t surprised that Sabra had such intuition or was that sensitive to another’s pain.
Ruth glanced at Pierce, a small smile on her face. “I miss Vincent, my husband, still, but I had the children. You’re right. Memories helped.” Patting Sabra’s hand again, Ruth came to her feet. “Thank you for letting me stay when you have to be tired from your trip.”
“I enjoyed every moment,” Sabra said truthfully, standing as well. Survival in the theater with all the phonies had required that she learn to read people quickly. Ruth was a warm, friendly woman who obviously had a great love for her family and music and believed in her students. “Afte
r meeting you, I’m even more excited about us working together.”
“I’m glad.” Ruth started to the door. “Pierce?”
He placed his hand on the back of the upholstered side chair he was standing beside. “I thought I’d stick around a bit and acquaint Sabra with the shops in the building.”
“I’m sure there’s a brochure,” Sabra said. Being alone with Pierce wasn’t a good idea.
“If there is, I wasn’t aware of it, and I’ve been here for two months,” he said with entirely too much satisfaction on his incredible face.
“You live here?”
Pierce enjoyed the shock on her face, the uneasiness that leaped into her eyes. She wasn’t indifferent to him, just fighting the attraction. “Next door, as a matter of fact.”
“His office is in the building as well. If you need anything, he’ll be there to help you,” Ruth told her.
Sabra refused to look at Pierce. That wasn’t likely. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She folded her arms. “If you don’t mind, could we go over the layout later? I feel tired.”
“We won’t keep you any longer.” Ruth pulled the car keys out of her skirt pocket. “As discussed over the phone, we’ll have two rehearsals each weekday at eleven and four, and one on Saturday at eleven. I left brochures on the coffee table about Santa Fe and a copy of Santa Fean magazine. In consideration of your travel, you don’t have to come until twelve. I’ll pick you up around eleven thirty.”
“I’ll be ready.” Sabra opened the door. “Good evening, Ruth, Pierce. And thank you again for picking me up and the food.”
Pierce slowly followed his mother into the hall. “Good evening.”
Sabra closed the door and leaned against it. Pierce was turning into a distraction she didn’t need. Isabella sauntered into the room and sat on her haunches. “You are not to like him under any circumstances. He’s too charming. Charming men are off our list. The only man we’re interested in is the one who did business with Daddy.”
Isabella thumped her tail. Sabra groaned, then shook her head. Isabella only listened to Sabra when she wanted to. “All right, be stubborn, but I plan to see Pierce as little as possible.”
IN THE YEARS SINCE PIERCE OPENED HIS INVESTMENT firm he had gotten used to working late. What he wasn’t used to was working late because he hadn’t been able to get a woman off his mind.
Pierce opened a document on the computer and more data appeared on the wide monitor. He had appointments with two prospective clients the next morning. Picking up his gold pen, he made notes on the papers he had already printed out. He planned to be ready with the prospectus both men were interested in.
Pierce enjoyed his single life and the pleasure of women, but business always came first. He was thorough and cautious. His clients deserved the best he could give them. He didn’t plan on it being any other way.
When the phone rang on his desk he ignored it. After five rings it stopped, only to ring again a few seconds later. On the second ring, he hit the speakerphone and continued to look at the computer screen and make notations. The callback was a signal the family had worked out when they were working late in the office. Since it was past eight, Luke and Morgan were at home with their wives and Brandon was at his restaurant. The odds were against the caller being his mother.
“Hello, Sierra?” Pierce said, calculating it was his baby sister.
“Is she as stunning as her pictures?”
Pierce had expected the call. Sierra had kept close tabs on him since Brandon’s engagement. If Pierce fell—which he had no intention of doing—she was next. “Would you get on my case if I said yes?”
“If she was staying longer than four weeks I might be worried.”
Suddenly four weeks didn’t seem very long at all. He twirled the gold pen in his hand, recalling the golden brown hue of Sabra’s skin, the silken softness, the fragrant hint of jasmine that teased the senses.
“Pierce?”
“I’m here.”
“How did she like her sublease?”
Pierce frowned. “All right, I suppose. She and Mama mostly talked about the play.”
“You sound disappointed.”
Pierce tossed the ink pen on his neat desk. “Why would I sound disappointed?”
“I can think of a couple of reasons. Both bother me,” Sierra said. “Please tell me you’re not interested in her. No, that’s asking too much. Just tell me you aren’t thinking of asking her out.”
“Why shouldn’t I ask her out?” Pierce came to his feet. “She’ll only be here for four weeks; then she goes back to New York.”
“Where she has to make some major decisions. Since she won that Tony, she’s Broadway’s darling,” Sierra told him. “She has offers from cutting an album to playing the lead of the play she won the Tony for on the big screen. Both are dicey.”
His interest peaked. It was uncanny, the amount of information Sierra had. “Why?”
“Singing three songs onstage where the audience can see and feel the emotions is vastly different from doing ten to twelve songs for the album. She has to ask herself if her voice will translate those same intense emotions on a recording. Then, too, a number of big-time Broadway actors have bombed when they took the play to the big screen. The audience is different for both.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I have my sources. Suffice it to say, Sabra might be looking at a career change. She’s been quoted as saying that, in the meantime, she doesn’t have time for relationships; her career has to come first. Besides, it would be bad form for you to hit on her when she’s working with Mama. What will happen when you break up as you always do? Messy.”
He thought of Sabra’s slim body, the husky laugh, the raspberry lips, and couldn’t imagine getting tired of her. “You had to remind me of that, didn’t you?”
“Just keeping everything in perspective,” Sierra said. “We have to watch each other’s backs.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I’ve heard that before. And don’t think I don’t know you didn’t answer my initial question. Yes or no? Is she as stunning as her pictures?”
A loaded and dangerous question, and one his baby sister could use against him. “Yes.”
“Since you didn’t elaborate, she must be off the chart.”
Pierce frowned at the phone. Sierra was cannier than his mother when it came to reading her brothers. It was scary at times. “Sierra, I’m a bit busy here.”
“Worse than I thought. So when are you taking her out?”
“I’m not.” That she had turned him down still rankled.
“Come on, be for real. I know you ask—” There was silence for four full seconds. “She turned you down!”
“She was tired,” Pierce said, and felt worse for making the excuse. “You should be happy.”
“She’s probably snotty. You’re better off.”
The corners of Pierce’s lips hiked upward. Sierra was fiercely loyal. “Probably.” He took his seat behind his desk and scrolled down on the screen.
“I think I’ll drop by the college tomorrow while they’re practicing.”
Pierce straightened. Sierra was also unpredictable. “Mama likes her.”
“I’m definitely stopping by, then. I’ll meet you for breakfast at the same time.”
Since Brandon had married Faith McBride, whose family owned the five-star hotel Casa de Serenidad (House of Serenity), Pierce and Sierra, the only two single Graysons left, ate at the hotel restaurant almost every morning. They both liked good food, and Brandon’s restaurant didn’t serve breakfast.
Knowing he wouldn’t get any more out of her, Pierce said, “See you then,” and hung up, wishing he could stop thinking about the woman two floors above.
CHAPTER THREE
WITH SO MUCH TRAVELING INVOLVED WITH HER career, Sabra had learned the art of sleeping in a strange bed and waking up refreshed and ready for whatever the day might hold. Mementos from home helped. On her nightstand she�
��d placed grapefruit-scented candles, pictures of her family, and a small porcelain music box her father had given her for her sixth birthday.
However, last night none of those things had helped.
She had tossed and turned from the moment her head hit the down pillow. Sleep had evaded her until early that morning. Subsequently, she’d awakened grumpy and grouchy. A cup of coffee, usually her panacea, hadn’t helped.
Restless and out of sorts, she’d grabbed Isabella’s leash and left her condo. She’d only gone a short distance down the surprisingly busy sidewalk at eight in the morning before she realized she had no idea where she was going. She’d picked up the Santa Fean magazine but had no idea how to get to any of the restaurants listed inside. Then she thought of the map Ruth had mentioned and started back to the condo.
And came face-to-face with the reason for her restless night walking toward her. Pierce Grayson. Sleek, elegant, six feet two of trouble coming toward her with a lazy gait.
“Good morning, Sabra. I trust you slept well.”
“Yes.” She winced inwardly at the lie, but her expression remained unchanged.
“I couldn’t help but notice you stop and turn around. You looked lost for a moment,” he commented. “Anything I can do to help?”
Stay as far away as possible for a start, so I can concentrate on what I came here for. “No, thank you. Please don’t let me keep you.”
He didn’t move on. Pierce obviously had enough self-confidence not to take her obvious hint. Twisting his dark head, he glanced at the magazine in her hand. “I can recommend a great restaurant for breakfast. The Mesa. I checked, and they allow well-mannered pets.” He glanced down at Isabella staring happily up at him. “Isabella certainly qualifies.”
“What’s the address?” Sabra asked.
His long-fingered hand gently circled her upper forearm. “I’ll show you. I’m on my way there now.”
Defeated, she fell into step beside him, felt the brush of their bodies. Her skin grew warm, heated. “I’m sure I could find the way if you’ll just point me in the right direction.”
