Two Lives in Waltz Time

234 Pages·2016·0.58 MB·English

by  Dean Vivien

TWO LIVES IN WALTZ TIME
Published by Linden Bay Romance, 2006
Linden Bay Romance, LLC, U.S.
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-905393-XX-X
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
PDF, PRC & HTML
Copyright © VIVIEN DEAN, 2006
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The work is protected by copyright and should not be copied without permission.
Linden Bay Romance, LLC reserves all rights. Re-use or re-distribution of any
and all materials is prohibited under law.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or
business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
Edited by Stephanie Wardwell-Gaw
Cover art by Dan Skinner
Cover text by S.L. Carpenter
TWO LIVES IN WALTZ TIME
VIVIEN DEAN
Vivien Dean
Two Lives in Waltz Time
Chapter 1
It came out of nowhere.
One moment, the dusky sky was glowing radiant and warm. The next, sheets of rain
were sweeping across the streets, blacking out the heavens as the gales whistled over
the cars, distant rolls of thunder adding their bass voices to the storm’s song. A cat
tried dashing to safety under an SUV, only to find itself caught by the wind, tumbled
around until it was muddied and more than a little dazed. On unsure feet, it
disappeared into the growing darkness.
Pulling her very non-waterproof jacket closer around her slim frame, Maddy Cardinale
bent her head against the rain as she raced for the building’s back entrance. One of
these days, she was seriously going to have to invest in an umbrella. People had
warned her about New York winters before she’d moved out from Arizona to take a job
at the prestigious Regent Museum. It was just too bad not one person had mentioned
the way the sky just opened up without warning, soaking you to your skin and ruining
the new shoes that you’d saved money from four paychecks to buy. Weren’t all those
tall buildings supposed to protect those unfortunates stuck on the sidewalks? What
made it all worse was knowing she was going to get teased unmercifully about wearing
the stacked heels to work in the first place. There was no way Cash would be able to
resist such an easy target. Fashion over function, he’d start with. And then he’d
probably recant and make some snide comment about her needing the extra inches and
who cared if they were a little wet?
Maddy was bristling by the time she stepped inside the museum. That wasn’t a good
sign. Usually, she didn’t start getting edgy until after Cash had shown up for his shift.
Her heels clicked along the tiled floors, her steps short and staccato. The skirt she wore
would have normally floated around her toned legs, but the rain made the flimsy fabric
stick to her skin, outlining her hips and the full curve of her bottom. She blushed at the
security guard’s naked appraisal, ducking her head as she quickened her pace. This
was going to be a very long night.
Though the rest of the museum was dark, the corridors leading into the back storage
rooms were brightly lit. With the exception of the guards and a small cleaning staff, the
building was completely deserted after hours. That was the way Maddy liked it. Peace
and quiet made her job as a conservator infinitely more enjoyable. It didn’t matter that
she spent all her time working. Not having many opportunities to appreciate her labors
of love after they left her care didn’t lessen how much she loved her job. She made
things beautiful for the world to see. That was all she needed.
The fact that she had to share it with someone who drove her absolutely bonkers was
another issue entirely.
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The door to the main storage room was ajar, and she paused before entering. At the
workbench inside, Ava Reisman, her day shift counterpart, was bent over the
microscope, the dark fall of her shoulder-length bob falling across her full cheeks.
Maddy stepped as quietly as she could, hoping she could sneak in without being
detected, but as soon as she crossed the threshold, Ava looked up. The girl’s hearing
was eerily sensitive.
“Oh, my god, what happened to you?” she cried out, leaping to her feet.
“About a million buckets of water,” Maddy replied. She started to slide onto one of the
stools around the worktable, only to jerk back upward when she audibly squelched.
“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Maddy allowed herself to be led around the periphery of the storage room, away from all
the work areas and the shelves of waiting artifacts. “Tonight’s going to be a disaster,”
she complained as they went into the co-ed bathroom. She caught her reflection in the
full-length mirror on the wall and grimaced. “Titanic-sized.”
Her long blonde hair was plastered to her head and shoulders, all signs of the curls
she’d spent hours creating gone. While her skirt clung to her legs, at least it hadn’t
gone translucent like her blouse had, revealing the plain white bra she wore
underneath. No wonder the guard had been leering at her. She looked like the loser
from a wet t-shirt contest. The only part of her that wasn’t affected by the rain was her
face, but that was just because she only wore the lightest of make-up. Her large blue
eyes and thick lashes didn’t really need much to enhance them, and even under the
worst of circumstances, her full mouth only sported a sheen of gloss.
“It could be worse,” Ava offered. Her wide brown eyes were sympathetic. “Cash
could’ve actually been on time tonight and seen you walk in like this.”
Mention of the man she spent her nights working with made Maddy groan out loud.
“Does it matter? I’m still going to be modeling the latest in wet gear when he does get
in. His mouth isn’t going to stop until I push him out the door in the morning.”
“It won’t be that bad.”
Maddy’s brows shot up. “And in what universe are you currently living in? Because
that’s where I want to be. The world where Cash Vinci isn’t the leading cause of every
bit of misery in my life.”
“Oh, please. It’s not like he ordered it to rain tonight. And Cash can be really sweet
sometimes.” She pinked under Maddy’s unwavering gaze. “I said sometimes.”
“Yes, when sometimes equals never.”
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With a weary sigh, Ava shook her head and stepped out of the bathroom. “Did you ever
think that maybe you two bring out the worst in each other?” she called back. Maddy
could hear her rustling around, but couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the train
wreck of her reflection to see what her friend was doing. “If either one of you ever
bothered to take a step back and look at the other like you were normal human beings,
you might just find out that--.”
“Don’t say it.”
Ava appeared in the mirror again, holding a pile of folded clothes. “One of these days,
you’re going to have to let me actually finish that sentence,” she complained. She
tossed the clothes to Maddy, who caught them effortlessly. “I was planning on going to
the gym after work, but I think this is a little more important than those extra crunches I
hate anyway.”
It wasn’t much—just a faded white t-shirt that said “I’ll show you my motherboard, if you
show me your hard drive” and a pair of navy cut-off sweats. Maddy chewed at her
lower lip as she held them up to her in the mirror.
“No offense, but if I wear these, I’m going to look like a clown.”
Ava smiled brightly, steering Maddy so that she was forced to look at her reflection
again. “Yes, but you’ll be a dry, non-transparent clown.”
“And suddenly, I see the appeal.”
Ava left her in privacy, allowing Maddy to peel off her wet clothes and drape them over
the wall of the shower cubicle to drip dry. She was right about the clothes. With the
difference of seven inches in heights and a cup size in their chests, the shorts came to
Maddy’s knees while the t-shirt almost made her breasts completely disappear. In the
end, she decided that was good. It was one less thing for Cash to make inappropriate
comments about.
When Maddy finally emerged from the bathroom, Ava was slipping on her coat.
“There’s still no sign of Mr. Personality,” she said. “Can you let him know he got a
package today?”
“Is it interesting enough to keep him out of my hair all night?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t open it. It came addressed specifically to him, and you know how
weird he gets about his stuff.”
Maddy knew. She and Cash had had more than one row about that particular topic.
Spying the flat package at the far end of the workbench, she padded over in her bare
feet to give it a closer inspection. Cassius Vinci. No wonder he insisted on the
nickname. She found it impossible to hide her smirk.
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“God, you’re so twelve,” Ava commented. “I’m outta here. See you tomorrow!”
Maddy waved without looking up, listening to the door click shut behind Ava while
staring at the brown wrapping. She didn’t get it. The package was rectangular, no
more than four inches thick. If she hadn’t known who it was addressed to, she would
have automatically assumed it was a painting, which was her specialty, not Cash’s. He
worked with weapons. Knives, swords, clubs. If it could be used to kill or maim, Cash
knew about it.
Who would be sending him a painting?
There was no return address anywhere to be seen on it. Casting one last surreptitious
glance toward the door, Maddy made the decision that whatever hell she was going to
catch would be worth satisfying her curiosity.
The sound of the ripping paper seemed to boom in the wide space of the storage room,
driving her to strip the package even faster. Inside was a plain box, and when she
broke the seal on that as well, she bit back her grin. A painting. She knew it.
Then she looked at it. Really looked at it.
It took her breath away.
On the surface, it looked to be just a simple rendition of a forties nightclub. Dancers
were frozen in time as an orchestra played in the far background. But beyond that,
there was something more. The colors seemed almost to glow in the artificial light of
the storage room, the figures practically leaping off the canvas as they stood frozen in
mid-swirl, smiles plastered on their beautiful faces as the unheard music filled the air
around them. Scarlet. Sapphire. Gold. Emerald. Each had a life of its own, whether it
was in the flowing dresses of the women or the checkered tiles of the floor. Even the
black of the men’s tuxedoes appeared to come to life, providing a midnight satin that
just ached to be touched.
Maddy’s fingers traced the gilt frame, dancing along the whorls, her attention fixed on
the elegance of the painting. It didn’t have any age, or if it did, someone had done a
hell of a good job cleaning it. Still, considering the subject matter, it couldn’t have been
more than sixty years old. Even if the artist was well-known—and the lack of any
recognizable signature kept her from determining that easily—it was hardly museum-
worthy. It made no sense whatsoever for Cash to get something like this here at work.
“Did I miss a memo about dress for the gym day?”
The amused baritone from the doorway made her jump, and Maddy jerked away from
where she’d been examining the painting. “What?”
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Chuckling, Cash dropped his umbrella by the door, followed by his backpack on the
nearest stool. He was dressed as he always was, long legs encased in well-worn blue
jeans, broad shoulders clearly outlined by a plain dark t-shirt. There wasn’t a speck of
rain to be seen on him, not even in his short dark hair. It had that slight bed-head look
he always favored—probably because an unfortunate girl told him it was attractive years
and years ago, Maddy thought—and his light green eyes danced with some unknown
amusement.
His smile was wide, his dimples deep as his gaze swept over her. “You still haven’t
bought a brolly, have you?”
Maddy pursed her lips together. He did this on purpose, used terminology to heighten
his British accent. While she was immune to it, the other female employees in the
museum seemed to love the way he spoke. She spent a lot of her time trying to
convince them that he wasn’t the sexiest thing to hit New York since Hugh Jackman on
Broadway.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice like ice.
“Noticed that, huh?” He sauntered around the table to lean against the edge at her
side. “Miss me when I’m not around?”
“In your dreams, Cash.”
“And here I thought Ava would never tell. At least tell me she didn’t mention the part
with you in the black leather cossie.” His gaze swept over her again, this time lingering
on the t-shirt’s wording across her chest. “On second thought, I think I might like this
better. Just tell me this isn’t your notion of pillow talk. That would be sad, even for you.”
“Arghhhh!” With a cry of disgusted alarm, Maddy stormed away from the workbench,
her hands over her ears. The sound of Cash’s laughter still managed to filter through,
but the image of the pair of them wrapped up in some BDSM fantasy was already
burned on her brain.
“Lighten up,” she heard him say. When she risked a glance back, she saw his clear
gaze resting on her. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us. If you’re going to turn into
uptight bitch this early, we’re never going to make it.”
Fury ripped through her, and she glared at him as she retreated to the project she’d left
the previous night. “That only works if you don’t talk to me,” she snapped.
“Actually, it works just as well if you learn how to take a joke.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep back the retort. They could go on like this all
night if she didn’t put a stop to it right now.
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The room fell silent while Maddy turned her attention to the tiny fresco she’d spent the
last three days cleaning. Though the small panel had been her joy when they had first
received it at the museum, the colors now seemed flat and lifeless, devoid of the same
type of light that filled Cash’s painting. Empty faces stared back at her, and she had to
fight not to push the thing away and return to staring at the Fred and Ginger
extravaganza.
“What’s this?”
Cash’s question was enough of an excuse to look up from her work. “A present from
one of your secret admirers,” she said when she saw him appraising the painting. At his
frown, she clarified, “It came in today’s mail for you. No return address.”
Taking a step away from the table, Cash scanned the nearby area until he saw the
discarded brown wrapping paper, then bent to pick it up. Laying it out on the table, he
smoothed down the edges while his green eyes flickered across its surface,
ascertaining the verity of Maddy’s claim for himself.
“You opened this?” he asked.
The guarded tone of his voice set her on edge. No good humor left. Shit. He was
going to be pissy about this one all night.
“Actually, Ava--.” The way his eyes shot up to bore into her made her halt in mid-fib,
and Maddy’s cheeks heated under the intensity. Somehow, he could always see
through her when she tried to lie to him. “—told me about it,” she finished lamely. “It
looked like a painting, and I thought it might’ve been mislabeled since you don’t do
those. I don’t suppose it rings any bells for you.”
Cash shook his head, his gaze shifting back to the painting. “No clang clang for this
trolley,” he muttered.
Rising from her stool, Maddy ventured back around the workbench, standing at Cash’s
elbow as he regarded the picture. “I can tell you it’s not old,” she said. “And not done
by any artist I’m familiar with. That doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful, though. Like a
snapshot out of an old movie where everyone dresses to the nines and nobody has a
care in the world except to dance.”
Though she meant every word, it was said hoping to distract him. Something about the
painting was making Cash jittery, and the last thing she wanted was to make him even
more unpredictable than usual. His next few words, though, confused her even further.
“Appearances can be deceiving, Maddy.” It was barely above a whisper, his attention
rapt on the figures before him. As she watched, his hand reached out to touch the gilt
frame, a single fingertip etching the curls and swoops before drifting closer to the
painting itself.
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“What’re you doing?” she said, alarmed. Her hand shot forward, grabbing him by the
wrist to pull him away. “You never touch the canvas without a glove on. You idiot, you
know that.”
But she couldn’t move him. His muscles were locked rigid beneath her grip. And for
whatever reason, her fingers wouldn’t uncurl from him, either.
“I…know…” Cash said through gritted teeth.
Her gaze flew to his face. Beads of sweat were popping out on his brow, and the veins
in his neck stood out from some unseen strain. He was struggling with something, but it
wasn’t until she looked down at his hand on the painting that she understood what
exactly it was.
His fingertip rested against the hem of one of the women’s dresses. The rich indigo of
the oil was leeching into Cash’s skin, bleeding a path up his index finger, past the first
knuckle, into the second. Within moments, other hues were racing to join it, suffusing
his flesh in a riot of color that would have been pretty under any other circumstances.
Now it was merely panic-worthy.
Especially when Maddy found herself unable to tear away when 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 2
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. It was only the image that was different.
But oh, how different was that.
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 make-up, highlighted by the ruby gloss that detailed the
fullness of her lips. Dramatic, Maddy thought, but effective.
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Her gaze swept down, and her breath caught in her throat. Gone was the faded novelty
tee 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 could feel strapped to her feet. Although it covered more than it hid, 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 circumvolution
with even more anxiety than when she’d started. She looked like something out of a
movie. A Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie.
Or a mysterious painting she should never have opened.
Her head was spinning as she grabbed the edge of the dressing table at her side. The
storage room of the museum had disappeared as well, to be 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 in mid-sentence.
Her lids snapped open, and she was met with her furious eyes glaring back at her from
the mirror. “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.
~
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