by Teri Wilson
“Yes. I’d love to help run things around here with the two of you. I’ll do whatever you need.”
“But your calf...” Allegra’s gaze drifted downward.
“She’s right,” Emily chimed in. “Your calf could get in the way of doing any teaching. Plus, I’m afraid we can’t really afford it.”
The school was having money troubles? No wonder things looked a little worse for wear. “I didn’t realize...”
Of course she didn’t. Maybe if she’d bothered to show up every now and then, she’d know what was going on.
“I think I might have an idea, but it would only be part-time,” Emily said.
“That’s okay.” She needed a few hours a week off for flyer duty, anyway. “I’ll do anything.”
“We’re doing Baby Nutcracker this year, and you’d be a perfect director.”
“Baby Nutcracker?” Chloe had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t ask. Whatever it was must have been added to the school’s annual repertoire, and she didn’t want to draw yet more attention to her prolonged absence. “That sounds like fun. I’d love to.”
Emily and Allegra exchanged a glance.
“Are you sure? It might be part-time, but it’s not an easy job,” Allegra said.
“And you’d need to be around until Christmas Eve.” Emily raised her brows, waiting for an answer.
Perfect. “I’m sure.”
“Great. You can start right now.” Emily brushed past her and held the door open for the crowd of parents with small children who’d appeared out of nowhere and were lined up on the sidewalk outside.
Wait. What?
“Now?” Chloe gulped.
“Now.” Emily nodded.
Allegra leaned closer. “I’ll help. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”
Thank God for sisters-in-law. “I’m clueless.”
“Baby Nutcracker is a Christmas recital for the preballet students, aged three to five.” She pushed open the door to the main classroom and waved Chloe inside. “It’s an abbreviated version of the traditional Nutcracker ballet—same music, same characters, just a bit shorter.”
Preschoolers dressed as mice, nutcrackers and a sugarplum fairy? Yes, please. Who would turn down this job? “That sounds adorable.”
Allegra crossed her arms. She seemed to be biting back a smirk. “When was the last time you taught preballet?”
Was this a trick question? “Never. I might have helped out back when I was a teenager, but that’s the extent of my teaching experience.”
Chloe slipped out of her coat. Luckily, she’d worn a black wraparound sweater and yoga pants—clothes she could move in.
“You can borrow these.” Allegra tossed her a pair of ballet shoes. “If you think your calf will be okay.”
“Thanks.” She swallowed and slipped the shoes on. “I’m excited. This should be fun.”
“The little ones are precious, and the production is definitely adorable. But they’re a handful.” She glanced over Chloe’s shoulder. “And they’re here.”
Right. She could do this. She was usually onstage for a minimum of three shows a day for the entire month of December. Putting together a half-hour ballet recital for a few preschoolers would probably be easy by comparison.
You wanted to be involved, and now you are.
She took a deep breath and turned, following Allegra’s gaze toward the picture window that overlooked the lobby. The space was suddenly packed with strollers and tiny bodies dressed in candy-colored ballet clothes. It looked like every mom in the Village had turned up with a toddler in tow.
How could they possibly have money problems? Enrollment seemed to be booming. “Allegra, how bad is the school struggling?”
“Pretty bad.” Allegra sighed. “We had the big dance-athon fund-raiser a while back, so the business is out of the red. But we’re still barely getting by. We’ve got just enough to pay the bills every month. I keep thinking that if we could give the studio a major face-lift, we could attract serious dance students. Maybe we could even hold a summer intensive for one of the dance companies.”
“That’s a great idea.” But it would never happen in the school’s current condition.
Chloe looked around again, and her gaze snagged on all the little things that needed to be fixed—the cracked walls, the scuffed floors, the faded furniture. Even the window overlooking the lobby had a tiny spiderweb of cracks in the corner. She frowned at it, until something beyond the glass caught her attention.
Correction: not something. Someone.
His head towered above the crowd, and his expression was as grim and intense as ever. Chloe had never seen anyone look so woefully out of place at a ballet studio before. It would have been comical if the sight of him hadn’t been such a shock.
“Brace yourself. I’m going to open the door and let the kids inside.” Allegra paused midway across the room. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not a ghost. A thief.
A puppy thief.
The man on the other side of the window finally glanced her way. He did a double take, and then his gaze collided with hers.
She forgot how to breathe for a second. All day long she’d kept imagining that she’d seen him, and now here he was in the flesh, as if she’d somehow conjured him.
Anders Kent.
Her would-be fiancé.
Chapter Four
Anders went still as their gazes locked through the picture window. Around him, chaos reigned as a dozen mothers wrestled their children out of snow boots and into pale pink ballet shoes and tutus. The floor was littered with coats, stray mittens and far more strollers than could safely fit into the small space. But he forgot all of it the moment he spotted the dancer on the other side of the glass.
Her.
She was dressed normally this time—no reindeer suit in sight—but he recognized her instantly. She had that same unforgettable graceful neck, same supple spine, same holly berry lips. Tiny earrings shaped liked candy canes dangled from her ears, brushing lightly against her skin in a way that made Anders forget he was standing in the middle of mommy-and-me chaos. He could only stand and stare, with all his attention focused on that swan-like curve, wondering what her body would feel like in his hands. Soft...warm.
His fingers balled into fists at his sides, and then she waved, snapping him out of his trance. He lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgment.
Definitely the same woman, in all her Christmas-loving glory.
“Can we go in now?” Lolly tugged at his pant leg.
He looked down at her tiny feet, trying to figure out if he’d gotten her ballet shoes on the correct ones. He still wasn’t certain. She seemed somewhat happy, though, and that was all that mattered. “Sure, pumpkin.”
Most of the other kids charged into the classroom on their own, but Lolly wanted an escort. The morning after the accident, when Anders told her that her mommy and daddy were in heaven now and wouldn’t be coming home, she’d clung to him and soaked his shirt with tears.
She’d been more like her usual chatty self in the past few days, but still had moments when she wanted to hold his hand, or be carried so that she could wrap her tiny arms around his neck. Anders had a feeling she just needed to know he wasn’t going to disappear.
He wouldn’t.
Not if he could help it.
Lolly led him into the classroom, but the minute they crossed the threshold, she dropped his hand to join her friends, sitting cross-legged in a cluster of frothy pink tulle in front of the large mirrored wall.
He lingered for a moment, hesitant to leave her there. And maybe a part of him—some shadow of his former self that remembered what it was like to wish for something, to want—didn’t want to walk away from Miss Wilde again.
What are you doing? He had
a mountain of tasks to accomplish today, starting with finding a way to convince Penelope Reed to marry him. He’d thought about the matter long and hard, and realistically, she was his only option.
He turned to go, but before he could take a step, the whimsical Miss Wilde tapped him on the shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” she said.
A smile tugged at his lips as he spun to face her. He barely recognized the sensation. It felt like years since he’d smiled. “Yes. Back to the office.”
“I’m Chloe, by the way. We didn’t get as far as names yesterday. Parents are welcome to stay and watch.” Her soft brown eyes seemed almost hopeful.
He shook his head. “I can’t. I...” I’ve got to go get engaged.
“Hello, Mr. Kent.” Allegra, the dance teacher he’d met at Lolly’s last recital, paused to stand beside Chloe. She glanced back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”
“No,” said Anders, at the exact moment Chloe Wilde contradicted him by nodding and saying yes.
Then she frowned and glared at him in much the same way she had the day before when she’d accused him of being a puppy thief. “Seriously? You asked me to marry you yesterday and now you’re pretending we don’t know each other?”
Allegra coughed—loudly—but Anders’s gaze remained glued to Chloe. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
She smiled at him, and the curve of her red lips was far too sweet. Visions of sugarplums danced in his head. “Nope.”
“Wait—I’m confused.” Allegra frowned. “What happened to Steven?”
“Who’s Steven?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
Chloe’s cheeks flared a lovely shade of pink. “He’s no one.”
Anders glanced at Allegra for confirmation, although why he cared about a person he’d never heard of before was a mystery.
Sure it is. You know why.
Allegra bit her lip and then caved under his gaze. “He’s not exactly no one. Chloe, didn’t you and Steven date for nearly three years?”
Something hardened in Anders’s gut, and if he didn’t know better, he would have recognized the feeling as jealousy.
Impossible. He didn’t even know this woman. He’d laid eyes on her exactly twice, and both times he’d found her borderline annoying. Attractive, sure—he wasn’t blind, after all. But he didn’t typically go for the adorably quirky type, and if Chloe was anything, she was that. Compared to most women he dated, she was sort of a mess.
Then again, it wasn’t as if those women were lining up to marry him. He’d spent the previous evening getting back in touch with his dates from the past few months, and at first, most of them had been happy to hear from him. But as soon as he’d brought up the whole marriage-of-convenience idea, their enthusiasm waned. He’d been hung up on more times than he could count.
Chloe squared her slender shoulders and gave her chin a defiant lift. “Steven and I broke up. It wasn’t working out and we agreed to go our separate ways. No big deal.”
Wrong. The flash of pain in Chloe’s soft doe eyes told him it was a very big deal, but he didn’t press for an explanation. He wasn’t altogether sure why he was even still standing there.
“Wow, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I don’t really know what to say.” Allegra’s gaze flicked toward him again.
He held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with it.”
How was this his life? He should be facilitating an acquisition right now, or better yet, proposing to Penelope Reed, instead of standing in a ballet school wondering why the enigmatic Chloe Wilde was suddenly single.
“I should go,” he blurted.
Penelope was the logical choice, in spite of their working relationship. She was reliable and discreet. He knew precisely what he’d be getting into if she agreed to a business marriage with him. It would be clean, simple and orderly, which was precisely the sort of relationship he needed right now, even if it was temporary.
As if on cue, Lolly appeared. She’d broken away from the group of little girls sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror and was now standing at his feet with her arms wrapped around his shins.
Too soon.
He shouldn’t have brought her here. She’d been doing so well, and she’d been asking about going back to dance class, so he’d consulted his late brother’s calendar and figured out Lolly’s schedule. For a five-year-old, she was fiercely independent, brimming with confidence. Anders chalked it up to her Manhattan upbringing, but she was still just a child—a child who’d lost her mom and dad.
He should have waited another week or two. Better yet, he should have thrown that crazy schedule out the window and never come here.
But when Anders crouched down and peeled her slender arms from his legs, intent on scooping her up and walking out the door, she turned her back on him and gazed up at Chloe.
“Are you my teacher? I’ve never seen you here before,” she said.
Chloe bent down so she was at eye level with Lolly. “I’m new.” She pulled a face. “Sort of.”
“Is that you on the picture outside?” Lolly pointed toward the lobby.
Of course Anders had noticed the framed poster of Chloe in her flirty Santa costume and silver tap shoes, along with the multitude of surrounding photographs from her performances with the Rockettes. It would have been impossible not to. Even if he’d somehow missed it, Lolly’s reaction would have clued him in.
She’d looked at the poster with stars in her eyes as they’d walked past, and she’d apparently just realized the beautiful dancer from the picture was here in the flesh, standing in the same room.
“That’s me,” Chloe said brightly.
“You look like a Christmas princess.” Lolly tilted her head and looked Chloe up and down. “Are you a Christmas princess?”
And just like that, Anders was in over his head. He hadn’t even formulated a Santa Claus plan yet, much less given any thought to princesses and fairy tales and storybook endings. How on earth was he going to raise a little girl?
Hell, maybe his brother had been right when he’d added the marriage clause to the guardianship paragraph in his will. Anders didn’t know the first thing about being a dad.
“Not exactly,” Chloe said. And before Lolly’s face could fall, she added, “Christmas is a magical time, though. Just like a real-life fairy tale. And you know what? The ballet we’re putting together for Christmas Eve has all sorts of wonderful parts—fairies, dancing snowflakes and even a few snow queens.”
Lolly’s eyes went as wide as saucers, and when her tiny mouth curved into a smile that lit up her whole face, some of the tightness in Anders’s chest unraveled. After days of struggling to take a full inhalation, he could almost breathe again.
“Can I be a queen?” Lolly’s quiet voice was as reverent as if she were speaking to Cinderella herself.
“We’ll see. But no matter what, you’ll get to dress up in a pretty costume and dance and twirl in front of an audience.” Chloe glanced at Anders and gave him a quick wink. So quick he almost thought he’d imagined it. “Your daddy here might even bring you flowers.”
And with those words, everything within him hardened again. They were a death blow. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All he could do was stand there with his hands on Lolly’s petite shoulders, choking on the truth while his ears roared.
Your daddy here...
Damn it.
Of course she’d assume he was Lolly’s father. He should have seen it coming. Maybe he would have if he hadn’t been so distracted by Chloe the Christmas Princess. And her perfectly bow-shaped, perfectly impertinent mouth.
He was mucking everything up.
Already.
“He’s not my daddy,” Lolly said, as casually as if she’d just announced the sky was blue.
“Oh.” Chlo
e rested a hand on her chest, and for reasons he didn’t want to contemplate, Anders’s gaze darted to her unadorned ring finger. “I’m sorry. I thought...”
“He’s my uncle.” Lolly shrugged.
Anders gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you go sit down, pumpkin? I think class is about to start.”
“Okay.” She threw her arms around him for a goodbye hug.
Anders bent low to hold her tight until she skipped back into place with the other children. When he straightened, he could see questions shining in Chloe’s eyes—eyes that were the color of hot cocoa on frosty winter nights and seemed as if they could wrap around him like a blanket, enveloping him in warmth, making him feel at home.
Her lips parted, and he knew if he stayed, she’d ask about Lolly’s mom and dad and he’d be forced to tell her everything, which was something he desperately didn’t want to do. She’d been the first person in days who’d looked at him without a hint of pity in her gaze. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a woman to look at him like that, but he had.
It made him feel human again. Like a man.
And it also made him wonder if he hadn’t needed just any woman to see him as a man, but specifically this woman. If he’d been the type of person who believed in fairy tales, he might think that perhaps he’d been waiting for Chloe to prance into his life all along, reindeer suit and all.
But he wasn’t.
Storybook endings were a fallacy. Anders had learned that lesson a hell of a long time ago, and now Lolly was learning it, too, in the most painful way possible. So once again, Anders turned his back on Chloe Wilde and left without so much as saying goodbye.
* * *
Chloe could barely concentrate as she ran the young children in her class through a simple round of pliés and tendus at the barre, followed by a giggly, boisterous round of chassés across the studio. For one thing, she couldn’t believe the pitiful state of the wood floor beneath their tiny feet. A worn path extended from one corner of the room to the other, faded by decades of balletic turns and leaps.
Most dance schools didn’t even have wood floors anymore. For years now, the trend had been performance floors—sheet vinyl laid over a sprung surface. Unlike wood, performance floors were slip resistant, resulting in fewer injuries and easier training for younger students. The elasticity absorbed shock and allowed dancers to leap higher. Emily should have replaced the floors years ago. No wonder enrollment was down.
