Enright Family Collection (103 page)

Look for all three books in this spellbinding
trilogy from
New York
Times bestselling
author Mariah Stewart

DEVLIN’S LIGHT
MOON DANCE
WONDERFUL YOU

Characters from her page-turning bestsellers
Dead Wrong, Dead Certain,
and
Dead Even
are featured in two marvelous novels

BROWN-EYED GIRL
VOICES CARRY

Also be sure to read Mariah Stewart’s short
fiction in the suspenseful anthology

WAIT UNTIL DARK

And her unforgettable novel

PRICELESS

All available from Pocket Books
and Pocket Star Books

MARIAH STEWART DELIVERS TOP-NOTCH ROMANTIC SUSPENSE “IN THE BESTSELLING TRADITION OF SANDRA BROWN AND TAMI HOAG”*—DON’T MISS HER ACCLAIMED NOVELS!

BROWN-EYED GIRL

“A mesmerizing tale.... The world of romantic suspense has a new rising star, and her name is Mariah Stewart!”

—
Under the Covers Reviews*

“Deftly combines the tingling excitement of a thriller with the passion of a true romance.... Certain to delight readers everywhere.”

—
Romantic Times

The romantic suspense book of the year.”

—
Midwest Fiction Reviews

“Mariah Stewart proves she can deliver first-class, pulse-pounding suspense while still retaining the type of romantic characters she is renowned for.”

—
The Belles and Beaux of Romance

“... Will appeal to readers who enjoy the psychological thrillers of Tami Hoag and Linda Howard.”

—America Online Writers Club Romance Group

“One of the most talented writers of mainstream con-temporary fiction today.”

—
Affaire de Coeur

MORE ACCLAIM FOR THE SPELLBINDING
NOVELS OF NATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR
MARIAH STEWART

PRICELESS

“The very talented Ms. Stewart... provide[s] readers with outstanding stories and characters that are exciting, distinctive, and highly entertaining. Four and a half stars.”

—
Romantic Times

“The best of romance and suspense. Flowing dialogue, wonderfully well-rounded and realistic characters, and beautifully descriptive passages fill the pages of
Priceless....
Not to be missed.”

—
RomCom.com

“Stewart’s storylines flow like melted chocolate.”

—America Online Writers Club Romance Group

“In the style of Nora Roberts, Stewart weaves a powerful romance with suspense for a very compelling read.”

—
Under the Covers Reviews

“An exceptionally gifted storyteller with a unique ability ... and a rare talent that places her in the company of today’s bestselling romantic suspense authors.”

—CompuServe Reviews

WONDERFUL YOU

“Compares favorably with the best of Barbara Delinsky and Belva Plain.”

—
Amazon.com

“Wonderful You
is delightful—romance, laughter, suspense! Totally charming and enchanting.”

—
The Philadelphia Inquirer

For “spine-tingling reading for a warm summer’s night”
(Library Journal),
don’t miss Mariah Stewart’s novella “’Til Death Do Us Part” in the acclaimed anthology

WAIT UNTIL DARK

“A diverse quartet ... penned by some of the genre’s more talented writers.... Chilling ... eerie.”

—
Library Journal

“Exciting, non-stop romantic suspense.”

—Harriet Klausner

Books by Mariah Stewart

M
OMENTS IN
T
IME

A
DIFFERENT
L
IGHT

C
AROLINA
M
IST

D
EVLIN’S
L
IGHT

W
ONDERFUL
Y
OU

M
OON
D
ANCE

P
RICELESS

B
ROWN-EYED
G
IRL

V
OICES
C
ARRY

Published by Pocket Books

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An
Original
Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1999 by Marti Robb

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN-13: 978-0-671-02624-0

ISBN-10: 0-671-02624-0

eISBN-13: 978-1-4516-5211-6

First Pocket Books printing January 1999

10  9  8  7  6

POCKET BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Cover art by Tony Greco.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Dedicated with love to Debbie Apalucci,
who put wings on our daughters’
feet, and a song in their hearts.
She taught them to dance.

MOON
DANCE

prologue

The hospital’s hallway was quiet and well lighted, the doors all closed more than three quarters of the way to ensure the privacy of the occupants of the rooms on this most private of floors. The young woman stepped off the elevator and looked both ways, trying to determine which way the room numbers might run. Seeing the nurses’ station off to the left of the narrow lobby between the bank of elevators, she made her way toward it on quiet feet, as befitted the solemn surroundings.

“I’m looking for Mallory Edwards’s room,” she said to the gray-haired woman who stood behind the desk.

“Are you family?” the woman asked without looking up.

“Just a friend.”

The nurse raised her head then. Mallory Edwards had been a patient in this small private hospital outside Baltimore, Maryland, for more than a week. No family had come to visit, although someone had
made arrangements for the best of rooms and the best of care. The Edwards girl was young; barely twenty-seven. The nurse bit her bottom lip. Would it hurt if she bent the rules just this once?

“Room three twenty-one, to the right,” she told the visitor, “and if anyone asks, you’re her sister.”

“Thank you,” the young woman nodded, and headed off past the silent rooms in the indicated direction.

The young woman paused in the doorway of Room 321, listening for a sound from within, but there was none. Cautiously she pushed aside the door and peered inside. The room was dim, the curtains drawn to keep out the light of a particularly bright and sunny February morning. The lone bed stood against the middle of the left wall, and the visitor’s first impression was that of having walked into a night-mare. The patient lay on the bed, her head and shoulders slightly elevated, tubes seemingly every-where. Drawn into the room by a combination of concern and morbid fascination, the young woman took several steps forward.

“Who’s there?” a faint voice from the bed rasped.

“Georgia Enright,” the visitor replied.

The figure on the bed paused, then repeated softly, “Georgia Enright.” A few seconds later, she asked bluntly, “Why?”

“I ... I just wanted to ... to ...”

“To see if what they said was true?” The voice dropped to a whisper. “That death’s door was closing on Mallory Edwards? Are you here to start picking at the bones already?” The figure made a harsh sound,
as if trying to laugh, but it rang hollow. “No pun intended ...”

“No, I ... I just ...” the young visitor, obviously disconcerted, shrank back slightly toward the door. Then, as if to justify her presence and give herself courage, she said, “I brought you some flowers.”

“Flowers?” the patient asked. “You brought me flowers? Why would you do that? I don’t recall ever having been particularly nice to you.”

“You haven’t been.”

“Then why ...”

“Because I felt bad for you.” She stepped forward to hand the bouquet to the figure on the bed and tried not to show repulsion at the overly thin arms that reached out to accept the gift.

“You
felt bad for
me?”
Even in this sorry state, it was obvious that Mallory Edwards was still the diva.

The principal ballerina in Baltimore’s famed Harbor Troupe, Mallory Edwards had been a legend by the time she was nineteen years old. That Georgia Enright—a mere member of the corps—felt sorry for
her,
would have made Mallory Edwards laugh under any other circumstances. As it was, however, the discovery that someone—even a member of the troupe’s corps of dancers—was genuinely concerned for her came as a big surprise. Mallory knew she had never done anything to earn that kind of consideration from anyone she’d ever worked with; witness the fact that she’d had no other visitors, and the only flowers she’d received were from her brother, who was too busy to pay a personal visit. She was touched in spite of herself.

“Well, then, Georgia Enright, I suppose I should probably thank you.” Mallory pushed the button to elevate the head of the bed a little. “As you can see, I haven’t been exactly inundated with cards and letters to wish me a speedy recovery.”

Thin, thin fingers traced the lacy leaves of the dark-green fern and the white petals of the daisies in the bouquet. Mallory raised the flowers to her face, seeking the scent of something sweet; something that did not smell like a hospital room or any of the accoutrements of having been confined there for better than a week.

She glanced at the young blond woman who stood so still at the side of the bed watching her. Of course, Mallory had known who she was when she entered the room. Georgia Enright had been with the Harbor Troupe for as long as had Mallory herself. The difference between them was that Mallory had quickly moved beyond the confines of the corps of dancers that formed the backdrop of every performance—the “chorus” of the dance. Georgia Enright never would. Though she worked hard, and it was evident that she always gave everything she had to every performance, Georgia Enright was not the stuff prima ballerinas were made of. Physically, Georgia fell just short of the mark for a dancer; just a tad rounder in the hips, breasts just a smidge fuller, and legs just a bit shorter than the ideal. And while Georgia’s movements were studied, if not inspired, and certainly not without grace, she lacked that singularity that set apart a good dancer from one who could mesmerize an audience and hold it in the palm of her hand.