Once More With Feeling by Nora Roberts Page A

running on the same nerves he had felt the night he’d taken Raven home from their dinner date. He’d only seen her once after that—at Steve Jarett’s house. Almost immediately afterward he had flown to Las Vegas to begin polishing his act.
    It was catching up with him now—the tension, the anger, the needs. Not for the first time, Brand wondered whether his unreasonable need for her would end if he could have her once, just once. With quick, impatient movements, he thrust the tail of his shirt into the waist of his jeans. He knew better, but there were times he wished it could be. He left the dressing room looking for company.
    For an hour Brand sat at the blackjack table. He lost a little, won a little, then lost it again. His mind wasn’t on the cards. He had thought the noise, the bright lights, the rich smell of gambling was what he had wanted. There was a thin, intense woman beside him with a huge chunk of diamond on her finger and sapphires around her neck. She drank and lost at the same steady rhythm. Across the table was a young couple he pegged as honeymooners. The gold band on the girl’s finger looked brilliantly new and untested. They were giddy with winning what Brand figured was about thirty dollars. There was something touching in their pleasure and in the soft, exchanged looks. All around them came the endless chinkitychink of the slots.
    Brand found himself as restless as he had been an hour before in his dressing room. A half-empty glass of bourbon sat at his elbow, but he left it as he rose. He didn’t want the casino, and he felt an enormous surge of envy for the man who had his woman and thirty dollars worth of chips.
    When he entered his suite, it was dark and silent, a sharp contrast to the world he had just left. Brand didn’t bother hitting the switches as he made his way into the bedroom. Taking out a cigarette, he sat on the bed before lighting it. The flame made a sharp hiss and a brief flare. He sat with the silence, but the adrenaline still pumped. Finally he switched on the small bedside lamp and picked up the phone.
    Raven was deep in sleep, but the ringing of the phone shot panic through her before she was fully awake. Her heart pounded in her throat before the mists could clear. She’d grown up with calls coming in the middle of the night. She forgot where she was and fumbled for the phone with a sense of dread and anticipation.
    â€œYes . . . hello.”
    â€œRaven, I know I woke you. I’m sorry.”
    She tried to shake away the fog. “Brandon? Is something wrong? Are you all right?”
    â€œYes, I’m fine. Just unbelievably inconsiderate.”
    Relaxing, Raven sank back on the pillows and tried to orient herself. “You’re in Vegas, aren’t you?” The dim light told her it was nearing dawn. He was two hours behind her. Or was it three? She couldn’t for the life of her remember what time zone she was in.
    â€œYes, I’m in Vegas through next week.”
    â€œHow’s the show going?”
    It was typical of her, he mused, not to demand to know why the hell he had called her in the middle of the night. She would simply accept that he needed to talk. He drew on the cigarette and wished he could touch her. “Better than my luck at the tables.”
    She laughed, comfortably sleepy. The connection was clean and sharp; he didn’t sound hundreds of miles away. “Is it still blackjack?”
    â€œI’m consistent,” he murmured. “How’s Kansas?”
    â€œWhere?” He laughed, pleasing her. “The audience was fantastic,” she continued, letting her mind wander back to the show. “Has been straight along. That’s the only thing that keeps you going on a tour like this. Will you be there in time for the show in New York? I’d love you to hear the warm-up act.”
    â€œI’ll be there.” He lay back on the bed as some of the