Once More With Feeling by Nora Roberts Page B

superfluous energy started to drain. “Cornwall is sounding more and more appealing.”
    â€œYou sound tired.”
    â€œI wasn’t; I am now. Raven . . .”
    She waited, but he didn’t speak. “Yes?”
    â€œI missed you. I needed to hear your voice. Tell me what you’re looking at,” he demanded, “what you see right now.”
    â€œIt’s dawn,” she told him. “Or nearly. I can’t see any buildings, just the sky. It’s more mauve than gray and the light’s very soft and thin.” She smiled; it had been a long time since she had seen a day begin. “It’s really lovely, Brandon. I’d forgotten.”
    â€œWill you be able to sleep again?” He had closed his eyes; the fatigue was taking over.
    â€œYes, but I’d rather go for a walk, though I don’t think Julie would appreciate it if I asked her to come along.”
    Brand pried off his shoes, using the toe of one foot, then the other. “Go back to sleep, and we’ll walk on the cliffs one morning in Cornwall. I shouldn’t have woken you.”
    â€œNo, I’m glad you did.” She could hear the change; the voice that had been sharp and alert was now heavy. “Get some rest, Brandon. I’ll look for you in New York.”
    â€œAll right. Good night, Raven.”
    He was asleep almost before he hung up. Fifteen hundred miles away, Raven laid her cheek on the pillow and watched the morning come.

Chapter 7
    R aven tried to be still while her hair was being twisted and knotted and groomed. Her dressing room was banked with flowers; they had been arriving steadily for more than two hours. And it was crowded with people. A tiny little man with sharp, black eyes touched up her blusher. Behind her, occasionally muttering in French, was the nimble-fingered woman who did her hair. Wayne was there, having business of his own here in New York. He’d told Raven that he’d come to see his designs in action and was even now in deep discussion with her dresser. Julie opened the door to another flower delivery.
    â€œHave I packed everything? You know, I should have told Brandon to give me an extra day in town for shopping. There’re probably a dozen things I need.” Raven turned in her seat and heard the swift French oath as her partially knotted hair flew from the woman’s fingers. “Sorry, Marie. Julie, did I pack a coat? I might need one.” Slipping the card from the latest arrangement of flowers, she found it was from a successful television producer with whom she’d worked on her last TV special. “They’re from Max. . . . There’s a party tonight. Why don’t you go?” She handed the card to Julie and allowed her lip liner to be straightened by the finicky makeup artist.
    â€œYes, you packed a coat, your suede, which you could need this early in the spring. And several sweaters,” Julie said distractedly, checking her list. “And maybe I will.”
    â€œI can’t believe this is it, the last show. It’s been a good tour, hasn’t it, Julie?” Raven turned her head and winced at the sharp tug on her hair.
    â€œI can’t remember you ever getting a better response or deserving one more. . . .”
    â€œAnd we’re all glad it’s over,” Raven finished for her.
    â€œI’m going to sleep for a week.” Julie found space for the flowers, then continued to check off things in her notebook. “Not everyone has your constant flow of energy.”
    â€œI love playing New York,” she said, tucking up her legs to the despair of her hairdresser.
    â€œYou must hold still!”
    â€œMarie, if I hold still much longer, I’m going to explode.” Raven smiled at the makeup artist as he fussed around her face. “You always know just what to do. It looks perfect; I feel beautiful.”
    Recognizing the signal, Julie began