An Unexpected Song

  Grab the brass ring.

  The phrase Charlie had used came back to her. He hadn't been speaking of her work but of love and commitment. Well, love had vanished but she still had her singing and there was more than one brass ring to capture in this world.

  She moved quickly across the room to the phone on the desk.

  "Daisy Justine just called to say she'd sign for Desdemona," Eric said as soon as Jason answered his phone. "We leave for New York day after tomorrow."

  'That's good."

  "Good? I thought you'd be happy as a lark."

  "How is she?"

  "Shaken. Hurting."

  Jason's hand tightened on the receiver. Lord, he wanted to be with her. "Get her out of the cottage."

  "Peg and I are going over to help her pack tonight." Eric paused. "She's changed from the first time I saw her. She's stronger than I thought, and she's showing a hell of a lot of guts."

  "Stay with her. Keep her busy. Don't give her a chance to think."

  "We will." Eric paused. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what's between you two?"

  "No."

  "I didn't think so. I like her, Jason. She's . . . she's special."

  "Yes."

  "You're certainly forthcoming," Eric said caustically. "What a way with words. Remember the critic who said that if Shakespeare was a song writer, he'd be Jason Hayes?"

  "Take care of her, Eric."

  Eric's tone softened. "I will. You just take care of yourself."

  He hung up the phone.

  Jason replaced the receiver and stood looking down at the phone. Giving Daisy the role was a risk, but only a minor one. He had exited the scene before he could be linked to her, and he would force himself to stay away from the rehearsals. Pain washed over him as he thought of never seeing Daisy onstage singing his words, never seeing Daisy again. . . .

  But he had promised Charlie she would have everything she wanted and he knew this was the only way he could give it to her that she would accept.

  In the meantime, thank God he had work to do. Work was forgetfulness. Work was salvation.

  He turned, left his study, and went across the hall to the music room.

  Six

  "It's not working," Joel Rickert said flatly as he strode up the steps onto the stage. "Dammit, Daisy, what's wrong with you? I heard you played Fantine for two years, yet you do this scene as if you've never died before."

  Daisy heard Eric's chuckle from his seat in the fourth row, but she wasn't amused. She was too tired and discouraged and she knew the director was right. She was botching the scene that was the climax of the play, and she couldn't seem to do anything about it.

  "Fantine's death scene was different. Her death was—" She broke off in self-disgust as she realized she was about to make a lame excuse. How unprofessional could she be? "You're right, Joel. I stink in this scene."

  "Well put." Joel Rickert grudgingly turned to Kevin Billings, who played Othello. "You're doing a decent job, Kevin." He shot a sour glance at Daisy. "He almost makes you look good."

  Daisy flinched. "I'll try to do it better."

  "Try?" Joel asked caustically. "Two weeks until opening night and you're going to try? Don't you think it's time you did more than try?"

  "Take it easy, Joel," Kevin said soothingly. "It'll come. She's terrific in the rest of the play."

  "Keep out of this, Kevin." Joel turned on him. "And don't be so damned stupid. If she blows this scene, she blows the entire play."

  Daisy felt a flicker of irritation toward Joel as she saw the flush that reddened the skin above Kevin's beard. Kevin had only been trying to help, and Joel didn't have to take his frustration out on him. In the past six weeks of rehearsals she had grown very fond of Kevin Billings. Though he had the acting range, powerful physique, and magnificent voice required for the role of Othello, offstage she had found him to be as friendly and unassuming as a puppy with none of the annoying ego usually displayed by stars of stage and screen. "Leave him alone, Joel. Don't attack Kevin when I'm the one at fault."

  "You're damn right you're at fault," Joel said grimly. "And if you'd put a little emotion into this scene, I wouldn't have to attack anyone." He threw up his hands. "Do you think I like being the bad guy?"

  Maybe he didn't like being the heavy, but he was utterly ruthless when he felt it was necessary. But that was part of good directing, and Joel Rickert was a very good director. "I don't know why I'm having trouble with it. Ill work on it."

  "Yes, you will." Joel's lips tightened grimly as he turned on his heel and ran down the steps to his seat in the fourth row, where.Eric Hayes sat watching. "And you'll get it if we have to stay here all night."

  He meant it. Daisy had learned in the past six weeks of rehearsals that Joel always meant exactly what he said. If she didn't perform to his satisfaction, they'd be doing this scene until they all dropped from exhaustion.

  Kevin's hand squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "You'll get it next time."

  She forced a smile. "You say that every time I blow it. You must have the patience of an angel."

  "It's worth a little patience when I know we're creating something special," Kevin said gravely. "The music . . . you and me . . . don't you feel it?"

  She did feel it. That's why she had put up with Joel's ranting and raving and his frenetic pace. Night Song had all the elements of being a blockbuster that might run for a decade. However, what was more important was the dual challenge of creating an unforgettable character and serving the music. "Yes, I feel it. Night Song is special." She smiled at him. "And you're right, it's worth all the hassle."

  He nodded. "What do you say we go out and eat chili after we get through this? I know a great place, and a good meal always relaxes me."

  "Sure, why not?" She made a face. "If we ever do get through this."

  "Again,' Joel said. "From the top."

  Daisy took a last swallow of the hot tea she'd requested to soothe her throat, and gave the empty cup back to the stagehand. Dear heaven, she was tired. "Can't you send the rest of the cast home? It's almost midnight and they—"

  "How can I do that?" Joel interrupted caustically. "You obviously need all the help you can get."

  "It's all right," Kevin whispered to her. "I don't mind. You'll get it this time."

  Daisy smiled wanly. "I feel like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady."

  "I've always wanted to play Henry Higgins." He struck a pose and clowned. "By George, she's got it." His smile faded as he studied her pale face. "And you'll get it too."

  She smiled at him. "You'll be a much better Othello than Henry Higgins."

  The pianist began to play "Last Love."

  Poor man, she thought, the pianist must be as tired as the rest of them. Wearily, she moved toward the stripped-down bed that was the only prop in the center of the stage. She knelt on the bed and listened for her intro.

  "Wait!"

  She went rigid and stared straight ahead at the first button on Kevin's shirt. Oh, no, she didn't need this now.

  Kevin's gaze searched the darkness of the auditorium. "Who the hell is that?"

  "Jason," Daisy wasn't even aware she had whispered the name. "It's Jason."

  "Hayes?" Kevin asked with interest, squinting as he tried to make out the shadowy figure coming down the aisle. "I've never met him. He's something of a recluse, isn't he?"

  "Yes." Her lips felt dry, and she moistened them with her tongue. She had told herself she would feel nothing when she saw Jason Hayes again, that what had happened between them had been due to her vulnerable state preceding Charlie's death. Yet the moment she had heard him speak she had started to tremble. "So I've heard."

  "You recognized his voice. You know the great mystery man?"

  "I've met him." She forced herself to look over her shoulder to see Jason stop at the row where Eric and Joel were sitting. Her glance raked over him as he began speaking to Joel in a low tone. He was dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that ma
de his big, muscular body look more slender than she remembered, but the guarded expression was the same and so was the impact of that riveting presence. "But I don't think I ever really knew him."

  "His music is fantastic." Kevin frowned. "Lord, what if he doesn't like the way I'm playing Othello?"

  Even easygoing Kevin was a little intimidated. "What's not to like? You're wonderful." She spoke without thinking, her gaze still on Jason. "I'm the problem child."

  But she wasn't a child any longer, certainly not the naive child who had fallen under Jason's spell all those weeks before. Dear heaven, she prayed she wasn't still that child.

  "Are you okay?" Kevin asked gently, his gaze on her face.

  She forced herself to look away from Jason and smiled with an effort. "Evidently, Eric called the great man and told him I was endangering his precious play."

  "You think so?"

  "What else would bring him here at midnight?" She stood up, consciously bracing herself. "He's come to the rescue."

  "Well, he can't be any tougher than Joel."

  "Don't bet on it." She had received a firsthand lesson on how ruthlessly singleminded Jason could be where his music was concerned. Well, she had enough of waiting like a victim while her executioners discussed which ax to use. She took a step toward the apron of the stage and called down into the darkness. "Hello, Jason. I must have been pretty bad if they had to call you in as a reinforcement."

  Jason turned to look at her, and she inhaled sharply as she received the full force of that blue-green gaze. "Rotten," he said tersely. "I've been watching you for the last hour from the back of the theater, and I couldn't believe it."

  Maybe she had gotten over him, she thought desperately. There had been a time when she had been so acutely conscious of his presence that he couldn't have walked into a room without her sensing his arrival. "You're not going to get an argument from me."

  "I don't want an argument. I want a performance." He smiled grimly. "And I'm going to get it." He turned to Joel. "I think I've located the problem. Cut the lights and clear everyone from the stage."

  "You heard the man." Joel motioned to the light technician in the booth and the theater was suddenly in darkness.

  "A spotlight on Desdemona," Jason called.

  "My name is Daisy," she said with a touch of defiance as she was pinned in a circle of stark light.

  "Wrong. Right now you're Desdemona. Get in the wings, Billings."

  Kevin frowned uncertainly. "Wouldn't it be better if I stay and help? I can give her something to react to and—"

  "No, it wouldn't," Jason interrupted curtly. "You're part of the problem."

  Daisy bristled. "The devil he is. No one could be more supportive than Kevin. It's not fair to blame him for my lousy performance."

  "Get into the wings," Jason said to Kevin as he started up the steps to the stage. "Let's get this over with."

  Kevin shrugged and the next moment faded away in the darkness, leaving Daisy alone on the stage with Jason.

  "Kneel on the bed," Jason said. "You're waiting for your lover." Pose for me. Kneel on the chair. No, that time had nothing to do with the present.

  She knelt on the bed and nodded for the pianist to start the music.

  "No accompaniment," Jason said swiftly. "You don't need it. You know the music. It's a part of you, part of Desdemona." She looked at him, startled. He stepped into the spotlight and she immediately became aware of their isolation from the watching cast and crew in the wings. "He's your lover but you fear him. You know he suspects you of being unfaithful, and he's a violent, tormented man. You've undressed and put on your nightgown." He stepped closer and reached out and slowly began to take the pins from the chignon in which her hair was bound and dropped them one by one on the bed in a gesture of excruciating intimacy.

  She mustn't remember how many times he had done that before, how many times he had draped her hair over her naked breasts or stroked his body with its softness. Dear heaven, she was remembering, she realized helplessly. The air seemed to thicken, become charged, and her breasts were swelling against the cotton of her blouse.

  He combed her hair with his fingers until it flowed about her shoulders. "You've taken down your hair. You've been careful to say your prayers because you know you may not live until the morning."

  "Is all this necessary?" she asked shakily.

  "Yes, the mood is everything. That's what's wrong with the scene." He looked down at her, his light eyes shimmering in his dark face. His voice lowered to a whisper. "Billings is a good actor, but he's not giving you what you need."

  He arranged her hair over her breasts as he had so many times before. Only then he had leaned down and put his rough cheek against them and rubbed back and forth until she had moaned and pulled his— She blocked the thought, but it was too late. Her heart had already begun to slam against her rib cage. "And what do I need?"

  "Fear. Uncertainty." Jason's lips tightened grimly. "You're clearly bosom buddies with Billings. You know he'd never hurt you, and it shows in your performance. Desdemona loved Othello, but she also feared him. She was all light to Othello's darkness. You need to Jeel the fear so you can draw on it when you need it."

  She raised her brows with a touch of mockery. "And you're going to furnish me with the necessary darkness?"

  "Oh, yes." He smiled bitterly. "I've always been Othello to you, Daisy."

  Her eyes widened as she realized he spoke the truth. Even in their lightest moments together she had been aware of a darkness, an element of danger in him that had made their relationships more exciting even as it had intimidated her.

  He nodded slowly as he read her expression. "You didn't realize that? I always did." He stepped out of the spotlight into the darkness. "From the very beginning. Sing 'Last Love,' Daisy."

  He was only a dark, massive silhouette in the shadows beyond the spotlight, waiting.

  She experienced a sudden flutter of panic.

  The demand came again, soft, seductive, irresistible. "Sing for me, Daisy."

  She began to sing, her voice at first shaking and quavering in the darkness. Then suddenly the stage disappeared, everything faded away, and she became the gentle, doomed Desdemona. Othello, her lover, was there waiting, watching her, brooding, intense. So much violence. So much hurt. She wanted to reach out and soothe him, take away the pain, but she was too frightened. Couldn't he see she'd never be unfaithful to him? Couldn't he see how much she loved him?

  He moved, shifted, and she caught the glint of his light eyes glittering pantherlike in the darkness. She caught her breath. Now? Was he going to strangle her now? She could barely force the last line of the song through her lips as she gazed at that beloved, menacing shadow standing in the darkness.

  The last line of the song silvered in the night like a frantic heartbeat about to be stilled as she waited for him to come to her. She lowered her head in silent acceptance of her fate.

  Applause.

  She didn't need the spontaneous applause from the cast in the wings to make her realize she had made the transition. For those brief moments she had truly been Desdemona.

  She dazedly lifted her head as Jason stepped into the spotlight again, his lips twisting in a crooked smile. "I really do scare the hell out of you, don't I?"

  "No." She straightened and looked Tiim directly in the eye. "Othello scares Desdemona. You don't scare Daisy."

  A flicker of surprise crossed his face and then he nodded slowly. "I see that I don't. Eric said you'd changed." He paused. "But you'll always remember how Desdemona felt whenever you sing that song, won't you?"

  "Yes." She searched and found the pins he had dropped from her hair and hastily fastened it up again. "I will remember. Thank you for that." She stood up and faced him. "Though I know you did it for your play, not for me."

  "Did I?" He smiled curiously. "How well you know me." His expression turned bleak. "But perhaps not well enough. I'm not all Othello."

  "All right, that's fine, Dais
y." Joel strode toward them from the wings. "Now let's try it one more time with Kevin."

  "No." Jason turned away and moved toward the wings. "She's exhausted. Send her home, Joel."

  Joel frowned. "Look, what if she can't do it again? We've got to hone it and develop the nuances and—"

  "She'll be okay. Send her home."

  "By George, she's got it." Kevin grinned as he bounced toward her. "I told you that you'd do it." He picked her up and swung her in an exuberant circle. "Now can we have chili?"

  Jason stopped and turned to look at them. His face was expressionless, but she suddenly had the same feeling she had known when he had stood passionate, possessive, menacing in the threatening darkness.

  She shifted her shoulders uneasily and then lifted her chin with a touch of defiance. She was Daisy, not Desdemona. If she was to build a new life without him, she had to learn to ignore the dark fascination he held for her.

  She deliberately turned away from Jason and smiled brightly at Kevin. "Definitely chili. I'm starved. Give me twenty minutes to shower and change and I'll meet you at the stage door."

  Daisy's pace faltered as she came down the dimly lit corridor.

  Jason was leaning against the wall beside the stage door and a faint smile touched his lips as he saw that slight hesitation. "Right on time. Don't worry, Billings didn't stand you up. I sent him out into the alley to wait for you."

  "Why did you do that?" Her stride quickened briskly as she moved down the hall toward him. "I thought you'd gone."

  "No." He straightened away from the wall. "I wanted to speak to you."

  "Did you?" She smiled brightly. "Some other psychological insight into Desdemona? You needn't have bothered. The last scene was the only one I was having trouble with."

  "I know. Eric says you're going to be fantastic in the role."

  "How nice."

  "How are you getting along? Eric told me he'd found an apartment for you in Greenwich Village. Are you comfortable?"

  "Yes, Eric and Peg have been very kind to me."

  "You're easy to be kind to."

  "Really?" She met his gaze. "You didn't seem to And it easy."

  He stiffened. "I was as kind as I could be under the circumstances."