Passion and Peril: Scenes of PassionScenes of Peril

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “There’s a lot you didn’t tell me.” Maggie tried hard to keep her voice from shaking. “You didn’t tell me that even if there’s no sign of a recurrence, that doesn’t mean the cancer’s gone. All it means is that you have a better chance of living five more years. And if you live the five years without a recurrence, all that means is you have a better chance of living another five years. And it just keeps on going. Forever.”

  “Mags, people who live for five years without their cancer returning are virtually cured.”

  She was silent, just watching him. He stared down at the red carpeting for a moment, then back up at her. His expression was unreadable, his eyes guarded. “Look, I know how tough it is to come to grips with this. If you don’t want to deal with it, with me, I understand—”

  “No!” Maggie stood up fast and the big leather chair rocked wildly behind her. “I just need to know everything. Don’t hide stuff from me, okay?”

  He nodded, watching her pace. “Okay. Then there is something else I should tell you.”

  Maggie froze, gripped with a sudden rush of fear. “What?”

  “The chemo and radiation made me sterile,” he said. “I’ll never be able to have children.” He laughed without humor. “At least not the regular way.”

  Relief flooded through her. She’d thought he was going to tell her that he felt sick again, that he thought the cancer was coming back.

  “I’ve got some deposits in a sperm bank,” he said, “but that’s not very romantic—”

  “I read something in here that scared me,” she interrupted him. “I read that one of the symptoms of this kind of cancer is sleep problems. Night sweats and—”

  “No,” he said. “The problem I’m having sleeping now is different. It’s in my head, Mags. I don’t sleep much because it’s important to me not to waste any time.” He stood up, crossed behind the desk and threw open the heavy shutters. Sunlight streamed in, and then cool fresh air, as he opened the big window. He turned to face her. “I don’t kid myself. I know I might not be here this time next year.”

  “How do you live with that?” she asked softly. “Tell me, so I can learn how to live with it, too.”

  He smiled at her. “You start by believing in miracles. You know, when I was diagnosed, they gave me seven months, tops. But here I am, three years later.” He put his arms around her, kissed her sweetly. “Every day I wake up, Mags, I think of as a gift. I’ve been given one more day to live, and I’m not going to waste it.”

  “But don’t you feel it’s not fair? Don’t you feel cheated?”

  “Cheated?” He laughed. “No way. I’ve been given a second chance. I won big, Maggie. They told me I was going to die. I was dead, it was a given. But miracles happen.” He kissed her again. “I’m more convinced of that than ever after last night. Not only am I not dead, but I’m living my dream. How incredibly great is that?”

  He kissed her again, and she clung to him.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” he breathed into her ear.

  She made herself laugh instead of crying. “Taking a nap in the middle of the day,” she teased. “Doesn’t that fall into the ‘waste of time’ category?”

  He laughed, a glint in his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

  Matt took her hand and pulled her out of the office, into the main part of the house, all the way up the stairs to his tower room. The blinds were up and the windows were open wide, letting in the sun and the ocean breeze. The sky was a brilliant blue. It was like being on top of the world.

  He undressed her slowly, taking his time to touch and kiss her, as she did the same to him.

  And there they were. Naked in the sunlight.

  They took their sweet time, falling together back on his bed, touching, tasting, exploring.

  He would have spent hours in foreplay, but it was Maggie who grew impatient.

  She pushed him back on the bed, straddling him, plunging him deeply inside of her.

  She laughed at his gasp of pleasure, smiling down at him as she moved on top of him, setting him on fire.

  “Hey.” He tried to slow her down. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to lose control.”

  “I know,” she said. “I like it when you lose control.”

  Oh, dear God, what she was doing to him... But... “Mags, I’m serious—”

  “Hey,” she said, pretending to frown at him. “Who’s on top?”

  He had to laugh. “You are. Mistress.”

  She laughed at that. “Damn straight.” God, she was so incredibly sexy. “Tell me when,” she ordered him.

  Matt could see her love for him in her eyes, in her smile, on her face, radiating from her, and he knew that all the hell he’d been through had been worth it—if only to live for this one moment. And there would be other moments like this one, he knew, not just making love, but sharing their love.

  She loved him. Maggie loved him. And it was all over for him.

  “When,” he gasped, and just like that, she dropped out of warp speed. She didn’t stop moving, she just made each stroke last an eternity, and he crashed into her in slow motion. And then she was coming, too, and he couldn’t believe how incredible it felt.

  She collapsed on top of him, and he held her tightly, their two hearts pounding.

  “I like it when you lose control,” she whispered again.

  Matt laughed. “Yeah, that kind of worked for me, too. Where did you, um, learn to...?”

  She lifted her head to look down at him, her eyes sparkling with restrained laughter. “I’m extremely well read.” Her smile was devilish. “I liked the mistress thing.”

  Oh, dear Lord, it was possible he was the luckiest man in the world. “I love you so much,” he told her.

  And just like that, she started to cry.

  “Oh, Mags,” he said, his heart breaking. “God, please don’t cry.” He kissed her. “Don’t be sad—”

  “I’m not,” she told him, kissing him, too. “I’m crying because I’m so happy. Oh, Matt, I’m so glad you didn’t die.”

  He held her close. “Me, too, Maggie,” he whispered. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  MAGGIE SAT IN the theater, looking up at the stage.

  Matt was rehearsing a song that his character sang with a vocal quartet. The soprano, a woman named Charlene, was flirting with him, standing too close, her hand lingering far too long on his arm.

  He glanced over at Maggie, caught her eye and made a face.

  “Some things never change,” she mouthed to him, and he laughed. “Behave,” she added, with a mock frown.

  “Yes, mistress,” he mouthed back, heat in his eyes.

  Oh, dear Lord, it was hot in here. And when would this rehearsal end?

  The soprano was watching them, and Maggie smiled sweetly up at her. Tough luck, Charlene. Matt was taken.

  “Time to take ten, no fifteen,” Dan Fowler shouted, and the cast scattered, knowing that the director was serious about the small amounts of time he allotted for breaks. “Stone! It’s time to deal with your hair.”

  “Yeah, sorry, Dan.” Matt dug into this pocket for a ponytail holder and pulled his hair back from his face. “I’ll keep it pulled back if you want.”

  “I want it cut.” Dan’s nasal voice echoed in the auditorium. “I got a friend here tonight who cuts hair down in New York. She’s ready to cut your hair right now.”

  Matt froze. Maggie watched him make himself relax, one muscle at a time, before he spoke.

  “Tell her thank you,” he said, “but I’m not going to cut my hair.”

  “Hello,” Dan said. “Cody works for one of the biggest advertising firms in Manhattan. He doesn’t have long hair.”

  “I’m sorry,” Matt said, “but we’re going to have to work around
this. I’ll tie it back and put it under my shirt. I’ll wear a wig if you want me to.”

  Dan walked to the stage, followed by a woman in a black stretch jumpsuit. “Come on, Stone. It’ll grow back. Getting your hair cut isn’t going kill you. Don’t make me treat you like some rude child and tie you down—”

  Matt backed away. “No,” he said, his voice sharp.

  Dan stopped short. “Jeez, I was kidding.”

  Maggie quickly climbed onstage and moved to stand beside Matt. She took his hand, squeezing it, and he glanced at her.

  “What’s with you tonight, Stone?” Dan’s eyes narrowed. “You seem a little... I don’t know. Strung out?” He turned toward the rows of seats. “Hey, Dolores!”

  Dolores appeared instantly, as if Dan had conjured her up. She held a plastic specimen cup in her hand.

  Matt exhaled loudly. It was similar to a laugh, but it held not a drop of humor. “I just don’t want to get my hair cut,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I’m on drugs.”

  “Take the cup. You know what to do.”

  “Are you saying that I can’t disagree with you without having to take a urine test?” Matt’s voice rose in volume despite his efforts to stay cool.

  “This is not a disagreement,” Dan said. “This is weird behavior. Go do your thing, and then get back here and get your hair cut. Dolores, go with him to the men’s.”

  Matt didn’t move. He just stared at Dan.

  “What, you’re not going to do it?” Dan asked. “Then get off my stage.”

  Matt still didn’t move.

  “You think you’re irreplaceable? Well, you’re wrong. I’ll take over your part myself. No sweat. In fact, it would be a real pleasure.” Dan’s gaze flicked over to Maggie just long enough so Matt knew exactly what he meant.

  Two little words were on his lips. Two little words that would tell Dan Fowler exactly what he should do with himself.

  But Maggie was watching him, and he closed his eyes instead. He took a deep, deep breath in through his nose. He held it, and then exhaled in a large swoosh through his mouth. Eyes still closed, he drew in more air.

  “What’s he doing?” Dan asked.

  “I think he’s trying not to kill you,” Dolores said drily.

  Matt took three or four more deep breaths, then slowly opened his eyes. He took the specimen cup from Dolores, and even managed to give her a smile. “I’ll take your drug test,” he said quietly to Dan, “but you’re not going to cut my hair.”

  * * *

  DAN FOWLER’S FACE was expressionless as Maggie explained why Matt didn’t want his hair cut.

  But then he laughed. “You really believe this crap, don’t you?”

  Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “Are you saying that you don’t?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s fiction. Stone is what I call a pathological actor,” Dan told her. “When you deal with him, it’s impossible to tell where reality ends and fiction begins. I’m not sure he’s able to tell the difference himself.” He laughed again. “So much for you and him not being involved, huh? When did that happen?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I suppose that’s what I get, making you guys practice all that kissing at home,” he continued. “Stone’s playing some kind of game with your head, Maggie. Cancer, my ass.”

  Maggie stood up, spitting out the very same words she knew Matt had worked so hard not to say. “You may have no trouble replacing Matt,” she added, “but keep in mind that if he goes, I go, too.”

  “Relax,” Dan said. “We’ll work around the hair thing. I don’t want either of you to quit, okay? I just think you shouldn’t take everything Stone says as the absolute truth. Did he say which hospital he was in?”

  “Yeah. The Cancer Center at the University of Southern California. Maybe you should call and check, make sure he really was there, Dan.”

  “Maybe I will. Oh, and in case you were wondering, his urine tests have all come up clean. So far, anyway.”

  “It must really suck to be you,” Maggie told him.

  He nodded, turning back to the papers on the table in front of him. “Yeah. Right now I wish I were Stone—imagine that.” He glanced up at her. “I’ll be here if you need me, you know, when you wake up from this dream you’re living in.”

  “I won’t need you,” she said, seething with indignation as she walked away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WHEN THE ALARM went off at eight o’clock, Maggie was already awake.

  Ever since Matt had left for California two days ago, she’d been unable to eat or sleep. The only thing she could actually do was work, so she’d dug in, working late into the night on the monthly accounts, searching for some legal principle to fall back on if they couldn’t increase profits.

  Stevie and Matt had had their heads together for over a week now, working on something that Matt didn’t want to show her until they’d done some more research.

  Maggie was still trying to get her hands on that mysterious codicil—tracking it down had been much harder than she’d thought.

  She got out of bed, showered quickly and was soon downstairs in the office, wishing for the nine millionth time that she’d been able to talk Matt into letting her go with him.

  But he’d been adamant she remain in Connecticut. “I want to keep then and now completely separate,” he’d said to her the evening before his flight. He’d smiled at her lazily as they lay in his bed. “I think of it as something out of science fiction—the time I spent there was kind of an alternate reality. If that and my present reality ever meet—boom. The whole world will explode.”

  Maggie had rolled her eyes. “Matt, get serious.”

  And he did. “I left behind an awful lot of pain and fear at the cancer center,” he told her. “I know they saved my life—at least they gave me some extra time—but it’s not a nice place. The tests aren’t a lot of fun. And waiting for the results...”

  “That’s why I want to go with you,” she said.

  “And that’s why I don’t want you to come,” he said. “Please. I don’t want you to see me there like that.”

  So here she was, waiting for him.

  He’d called when his flight had landed in L.A., and again several times over the past few days. He’d told her he wouldn’t have any test results until Tuesday night.

  It was finally Tuesday.

  Maggie looked at the clock.

  Eight-thirty in the morning.

  It was going to be another long day.

  * * *

  THE TELEPHONE FINALLY rang at nine o’clock that evening.

  “Hey, Mags.” Matt sounded exhausted.

  Maggie closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “Matt.” Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me.

  “Sorry I couldn’t call earlier,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get to a phone.”

  If he were okay, he would have told her without any delay, wouldn’t he? Maggie tried to still the fear that was rising into her throat. “Tell me,” she said.

  “Well, there’s good news and bad news,” he said. “I thought I was going to be able to catch the red-eye home tonight—”

  “Oh, God,” she breathed.

  “No, that’s the bad news,” he said.

  “Then tell me the good news.”

  “The good news is that there’s no definite bad news,” he said. “The test results came back...weird. They want to retest before telling me anything.”

  “Weird how?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just know we’re back in wait mode. If you want to know the truth, I think there was some kind of error in the lab and they’re just afraid to tell me. I wish they would. It’s better than thinking—”

  �
��Matt, I’m going to fly out,” she said.

  “No,” he said. “Don’t. I’ve been picturing you sleeping in my bed, or working downstairs and... It’s been a great focus for me, Maggie. I need you there, waiting for me.” Over the line, she heard a murmured voice talking to Matt. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything. I love you.”

  “I’m coming out there,” she told him, but the connection was already broken.

  * * *

  THE EARLIEST FLIGHT to LAX left Bradley Airport several hours after midnight.

  Maggie bought a ticket online, and then went about the business of getting through the day.

  She had to file more papers in New Haven in an effort to get a look at that damned elusive codicil to Mr. Stone’s will. And there was a rehearsal starting at seven. She’d have to leave a little early to get to the airport on time.

  The day passed interminably slowly. Maggie waited in line after line, dealing with uninterested, apathetic clerks as she tried to find out what had gone wrong with her petition to release that codicil.

  She ate a tuna-fish sandwich standing up in a dreary deli, then went back to slug it out with more bureaucrats. At three o’clock, after demanding to speak to a supervisor, she found out that there was a form missing from the paperwork she’d submitted, and she had to get Matt’s signature before anything else could be done.

  She went out to join the wall of traffic on Route 95.

  Back at the house, she hurried inside, only to find that she’d gone out without turning on the telephone answering machine. Matt might have called her, but she would never know. Bitterly disappointed, she sank down on the living room floor and cried.

  * * *

  DAN HAD TAKEN the news that Matt wasn’t at rehearsal and that Maggie was going to leave early in surprisingly good form. He made arrangements for one of the men in the chorus to read and walk through the part of Cody for the evening.

  They were running the second half of the second act, starting with a solo Maggie sang, alone in Lucy’s bedroom. The scene immediately following the song was the same one she and Matt had auditioned with-the scene with that brain-rattling kiss.