Dance to the Piper by Nora Roberts Page A

used to talk about the day a man would come and offer us the moon."
    "Is that what you want?"
    "The moon?" She laughed again, and the sound of it trailed down the sidewalk. "Of course. And the stars. I might even take the man."
    He stopped then, just outside the beam of a streetlight, to look down at her. "Any man who'd give it to you?"
    "No." Her heart began to thud, slowly at first, then faster, until she felt it in her throat. "A man who'd offer it."
    "A dreamer." He combed his hand through her hair the way he'd wanted to, though he'd told himself he wouldn't. It spread like silk through his fingers. "Like you."
    "If you stop dreaming, you stop living."
    He shook his head, moving it closer to hers. "I stopped a long time ago." His lips touched hers, briefly, as they had once before. "I'm still alive."
    She put a hand on his chest, not to keep him away but to keep him close. "Why did you stop?"
    "I prefer reality."
    This time, when his mouth came to hers, it wasn't hesitant. He gathered and took what he'd wanted for days. Her lips were warm against his, exotic in flavor, tempting in their very willingness to merge with his. Her hand pressed against the back of his neck, drawing him nearer, eagerly accepting the next stage of pleasure as their tongues met and tangled.
    The streetlight washed the sidewalk beside them, and the buildings blocked out most of the sky. They were alone, though traffic shuttled by on the street. His fingers spread against her back, bringing enough pressure to align her body with his, hard and firm. The scent she wore made the musky smell of the city disappear, so there was only her.
    Trapped in his arms, she was already soaring up so that in a moment she could touch the chilled white surface of the moon and learn its secrets. She hadn't expected to be breathless, but she swayed against him with a helplessness neither of them could comprehend.
    He tasted of power and ruthlessness. Her instinct for survival should have had her turning away from it, even scorning it. Yet she remained as she was, wound around him in the warm evening air. The hand at the back of his neck stroked to soothe a tension she sensed intuitively.
    He knew better. From the first moment he'd seen her, Reed had known better. But he'd continued to take steps toward her rather than away. He was no good for her, and she could only mean catastrophe for him. There would be no casually complementary relationship here, but something that would draw you farther and farther into a slowly burning fire.
    He could taste it. The frank surrender that was seduction. He could hear it in her quiet sigh of acceptance. With her body hugged tightly against his, he could feel the need expand beyond what should, what must, be controlled. He didn't want it. Yet he wanted her more than he'd wanted anything that had come into his life before.
    He drew away. Then, before he could stop himself, he framed her face in his hands to kiss her again. He wanted to be sated by her, done with her. But the more he took, the more he wanted.
    A woman like this could destroy a man. Since childhood his life had been based on the premise that he would never allow a woman to be important enough to hurt him. Maddy was no different, he told himself as he all but drowned in her. She couldn't be.
    When he drew away again, Maddy's legs were rubber. She had no flip remark, no easy smile. She could only look into his eyes, and what she saw wasn't passion now, wasn't desire. It was anger. She had no answer for it.
    "I'll take you home," he told her.
    "Just a minute." She needed to catch her breath, needed to feel firm ground under her feet again. He released her, and she stepped to the street lamp and rested a hand on the solid metal surface. Light washed white over her and left him in shadow. "I get the feeling that you're annoyed at what happened."
    He didn't respond. When she studied him, she saw that his eyes could be colder than stone. It made her hurt, as much for him as for