Suzanne Brockmann - Passion and Peril

His eyes gleamed with humor. “Oh, here’s a story you’ll really like. When I was in L.A., I managed to get this agent. What a sleazeball. He told me he could get me some work in the movies. Nothing big, you know—bit parts. But still, it was the movies.... Anyway, he sent me on an audition, right?”

Maggie nodded, watching Matt’s face as he talked, the corners of his mouth quivering with restrained laughter. It was hard to believe that it had been ten years since she’d seen him. It just seemed so natural, sitting here together.

“So I go into this place,” he said, “and I realize that it’s not a cattle call. You know, there’re not four hundred other guys that look sort of like me lining up to audition for the part of the store owner who says ‘A dollar fifty,’ to Keifer Sutherland when he comes into the convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes. The director actually comes out and shakes my hand—if you can believe that—and he takes me into the studio. I was so jazzed. They had cameras set up on a soundstage, along with this living room set. It looked like a stock American-home set—something out of a sitcom, you know?”

He paused, taking a sip of water. “Well, imagine my surprise when the director told me to go ahead and take off my clothes.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Matt grinned. “It didn’t take me long to figure it out. I asked to see the script and it was called—I’ll never forget this—Sleazy Does It. It was a porno flick, Mags. It wasn’t an audition—they were just going to shoot the film that same day. Is that too scary or what?”

Maggie had to laugh. Poor Matt. Thinking he was going to get a part in a major motion picture... “Did you do it?”

He choked on his water and glared at her, mock outrage on his face. “Thanks a lot. No, I did not do it.”

She was still laughing. “Your past ten years have been much more exciting than mine.”

“You graduated from Yale, went to law school and managed to get an M.B.A. at the same time. You had a fire, moved back in with your folks. You dated someone named Tom for four years, and now you’re seeing a guy named Brock Donovan. You’ve had the lead in Oklahoma!, Carousel, Paint Your Wagon, Showboat, The Boyfriend, Superman, Anything Goes, Guys and Dolls, Li’l Abner and one more.... What was it?”

“Annie, Get Your Gun.” Maggie couldn’t believe it. “How do you know all that?”

He closed his eyes, placing his fingertips on his forehead. “Matthieu senses all,” he said with a heavy Eastern European accent. “I also know that Angie’s married now,” he added in his regular voice.

There was something in his face, in his tone, that Maggie couldn’t read.

“Yeah,” she said. “Freddy’s great. You’d like him. But it’s kind of a drag—they live in London.”

“That must be tough,” he sympathized. “You and Angie stayed close, didn’t you?”

Maggie nodded. “I miss her.”

“Did she ever tell you...”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Why we broke up. I don’t know. It all seems so silly now.”

He was looking at her, and she felt herself blush under his scrutiny.

“Why did you break up?” she asked.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he said. His eyes were warm. Hot, almost....

Where are we going?

Does it matter?

No.

Maggie cleared her throat. “Are you going to audition for the summer musical? I mean, are you going to be in town for a while?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here at least three months,” he said. “I don’t know about the show, though. I saw the audition notice in the paper. It’s tomorrow, right? But the show was one I didn’t recognize.”

“It’s called Day Dreamer. It was written by this local team of writers. It’s not... It’s really funny. And the music’s good, too....” Maggie felt herself babbling in an effort to keep the conversation pointed securely away from the physical attraction that seemed to simmer between them.

But she lapsed into silence as he sat back in his chair, his eyes still glued to her face. As he moved, the muscles in his arms and chest moved, too. It was hypnotizing. With a motion that was clearly well practiced, he tossed his hair out of his face, back behind his shoulders.

“I guess I’ll audition,” he said. “If you’re going to...”

“Matt, why do you wear your hair like that?” she asked. “I mean, it’s beautiful, but you always had short hair. In school, you used to make fun of the boys who wore their hair long....”

“It’s a complicated story,” he said evasively. He sat forward, pointing at her salad. “Are you going to eat that?”

She wasn’t very hungry. “Do you want it?”

“No, I want to get out of here,” he told her. “I want to take you to see something.”

He stood up, tugging down on the thighs of his jeans in a movement that was all Matthew. How many thousands of times had she seem him do that?

But going vegan and quitting drinking and smoking, and the new superhealthy body...

As they left the café and walked down the stairs to the lobby, he caught her puzzled look and said, “What?”

It was remarkable, really. With his dazzling white T-shirt tucked into the top of his blue jeans, his long hair cascading halfway down his broad back, he was an odd mixture of her friend Matt and her fantasy jungle man. He looked sort of like Matt and he moved and talked sort of like Matt, but there was so much more that was different about him now. She could see so many changes in him, the most startling being his confidence—his solid, quiet strength.

Again, she found herself attracted to him, and that felt strange.

“I’m trying to figure out exactly who you are,” she said bluntly, “just who it is you’ve become.”

He looked startled for a moment, and then he laughed. “You know, Mags,” he said, “I really did miss you. You and your honesty.”

He opened the door leading out of the club. With a grand gesture, he motioned for her to go through.

Outside, the night air was cool, and Maggie shivered slightly. Matt casually draped an arm around her shoulders.

His touch was warm, and Maggie felt the urge to lean against him, to rest her head on his shoulder, wrap her own arm around his waist.

But he was just being friendly old Matt. Wasn’t he?

She pulled away. “Your car or mine?”

Matt turned around and gave her such a look that she had to laugh. “I assume that means you still have to be the driver, right?” she said.

He grinned. “I’ve got the old man’s Maserati. He never drove it anywhere. What’s the point in having a car like that if you never use it?”

“Do you remember when you stole it and used it to drive Angie to the junior prom?” That was one of the best times they’d had together and one of the worst.

He unlocked the front passenger-side door of the gleaming black sports car and opened it for Maggie. “How could I ever forget? I spent four days in jail for that one. God, my father was such a bastard.”

Matt got into the driver’s seat and closed the door. He looked over at Maggie, real sadness in his eyes. “I was such a disappointment to him. Right up to the end.”

She didn’t know what to say, and then there was no reason to say anything because he put the key into the ignition and started the engine with a roar. “Oh, yeah,” he said, flashing her a smile. “This is a very nice car.”

Maggie wanted to ask about his father, but she held her tongue. Mr. Stone had died over a year ago, and even though he and Matt had never gotten along, she’d been surprised when Matt hadn’t shown up for the funeral.

She shook free of the thought, fastened her seat belt and got ready to hang on for dear life as he pulled out of the parking lot. But he drove almost slowly.