by Ines Saint
“I might’ve told her something about our hopes for you two,” Susan answered, her voice hesitant.
“Who’s Celine?” Isabella asked.
“A French teacher at St. Mary’s — she and Susan have been friends for years,” Claire explained.
“They’re from the same sorority. See why I don’t want to join a stupid sorority? She’s your good friend, and she’s trying to make time with your ex-husband!” Emma was again emotional.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Grey?” Justin demanded.
Nick looked at the crowd of faces around him and sighed, knowing each one was either concerned about him or worried about Jamie. “I didn’t kiss Celine. She kissed me, for good luck. I didn’t even see it coming. I love Jamie, and I would never do anything to hurt her. I can see now why you were angry back there, but you were wrong. Now, you can all either believe me or not, but I’m through here, and I’m going to find her.”
“I believe him,” Dr. Viera finally said.
“I do, too,” Hannah said.
“I believe him — even though he wears a bra.” Chris grinned.
“Where is Jamie?” Liz asked.
“She’s right over there, behind the statue,” Justin replied. “Look, Nick, I was just looking out for her — I’m always going to look after her.”
“All right, let’s just all go inside and leave them alone,” Claire said, and they all quickly shuffled back toward the doors.
• • •
Jamie looked up to see Nick standing over her. He looked concerned, and downright fearful. Her eyes traveled down the length of his body. He was still in his skates.
He held his hand out to help her up, and she silently took it. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Nick bit the inside of his lip and reached out to pull her hair out of her face. “Jamie — I didn’t kiss her,” he finally said. “She kissed me, out of the blue, out of nowhere — she just kissed me and said it was for good luck. I was so focused on the game, on getting inside, that it took me a moment to react, and by then it was over. I didn’t even have time to think about it till now.” Nick looked away, and she could feel how miserable he was. “Please say something.”
Jamie looked at him and held back a smile. She resisted the temptation to run her fingers through his messy hair. “I’m shocked — ” she finally began, but he put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but believe me, it was beyond me — even Justin understands — I’ve been vetted by your entire family, Jamie.”
“Listen to me.” She laughed and clamped her hand on his mouth to keep him from talking. “I was shocked because the moment I saw you two, my first thought was that I trusted you — that there had to be an explanation. But it was strange to feel that way. I needed to sort it out, and next thing I knew, you and Justin — ”
Nick took her hand away from his mouth and pulled her near. “And is Justin the only reason you came here today?”
“No.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I also came to tell you I was going to use your time away to try to find my faith in people again.” Jamie paused, licked her lips nervously, and looked up at Nick. “But the moment I saw you, I knew I didn’t want you to go away, so I think I really came to ask you to stay.”
“You’re too late,” he responded, but he was smiling. “I’d already decided I wasn’t going anywhere without you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She looked into his eyes, happiness flooding through her.
“Mmm-hmm.” He bent his head and kissed her so gently that she really believed there was nothing for her to do but melt away. “I’ve been thinking we can see the world together — you, me, Emma, Michael, and Timmy — a summer at a time,” he told her between kisses. For a moment, she just sighed in agreement, until his words sunk in.
“Travel together? Nick, we haven’t even — I still need time.”
“I know, it’ll take you some time to design and make our wedding rings. I was thinking something with the beech tree leaf on it. That would be pretty, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s not what I was going to say — we haven’t even been on a real date!”
Nick hooked his arm around her neck and began leading her back toward the arena. “Okay, all right, I’ll take you to this hockey game that should start any minute now. Apparently there was an interruption. And then I was thinking you and the boys could move into my place. After the wedding, of course. The boys can each have their own room, and there’s plenty of room for your studio. I’m sure I can build a better one than your brother did and … ”
“Nick!” Jamie stopped short and stared at him in disbelief.
“Come on, we’re going to be late for our date.”
“I’m still dragging my feet, and you’re talking about wedding bands, traveling, and assigning rooms?”
“Listen, Jamie.” Nick turned to look at her, his tone serious. “I’m hopelessly in love with you. I’ve never felt anything like this before. And we’re going to be together forever — I know it, I’m sure of it.” He rubbed his thumb against her lips. “So we can do things your way if you want, from taking things slow down to the color of our front door, but I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world and that’s all there is to it. I’d just rather start sooner rather than later, but it’s up to you.”
Jamie pulled him down by his jersey and kissed him, cherishing the feeling of hope that rushed through her.
“Have I told you that I love you too, Nicholas Grey?”
Nick picked her up and hugged her close. “No, actually, you have not.”
“Then let’s start there. I love you, Nick. And I really think we’re going to be happy, too.”
And the fans went wild. Their particular fans. They stumbled out of the arena doors, where they’d been listening.
Author’s Note
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for choosing to read Charmed. Though this is my second release, it is actually the first book I ever wrote. I hope you enjoyed Nick and Jamie’s story as much as I enjoyed dreaming it up.
I’d love to hear from you! Please write to me at: [email protected], or visit me at www.inessaint.com.
Warm wishes always,
Inés
More From This Author
(From Strangers in the Night)
July 23rd, Chicago SummerDance Festival
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera. Celia Cruz’s powerful, husky voice sang out from the speakers as the live orchestra took a break. An eclectic crowd gathered on the unique, recycled milk carton dance floor, swaying as Celia’s warm, sensual rendition of the popular Cuban song invited them to loosen their hips for the long night of salsa dancing ahead.
The moon beamed shafts of light through the trees, casting shadows that seemed to dance along with the crowd. And though the city lights overwhelmed most of the stars above, an unrelenting few shone down.
On one corner of the dance floor, Keila Diaz sang along and unconsciously grooved to the music as she looked around for her older sister. They were going to support their good friend, Robbie, who’d just led that night’s dance lesson.
Though they hadn’t been able to make it to the lesson, the real fun was about to begin.
“How did your audition go?” an excited voice came up behind her. Keila turned, smiled, and hugged her sister.
“I think I did well. It almost scares me to say it out loud — you know how I always try to remain neutral. But they all wanted to talk to me afterward, and they seemed excited about my performance.” Keila held her breath, nervous energy flowing through her all over again.
“You’re anxious,” Tania observed.
“It’s just … this orchestra suits me, they have a lot of public support and they pl
ay the classics along with more modern fare. And I really want to come back home. It’s painful to want something so much.”
Tania seized Keila’s hands and slowly began swiveling her hips, trying to get Keila to do the same. “Did you spiccato and pizzicato and all that neat stuff?” she asked and Keila signaled a yes. “Then don’t get worked up about it. You already gave it your all and there’s really nothing left to do but hope for the best, push it aside for a while, and dance.”
Keila closed her eyes and slowly breathed out. There was nothing more escapist than shutting your mind off and just losing yourself to music and dance. Gradually, she began to move again, marking the beat of the conga drums with her shoulders. Tania smiled and gave her a look that said, there you go!
“Guantanamera” began to wind down just as the live orchestra began their rendition of Tito Puente’s “Ran Kan Kan.” The primitive, pulsing beat of the conga combined with the scintillating sounds of the trumpets sent an energetic buzz through the crowd.
Tania and Keila looked at each other and smiled wide, their rhythm picking up, their individual styles creeping in. Though salsa was essentially a partnering dance, there were more than a few people on the dance floor with enough fancy leg work and body actions to dance solo when no partner could be found and the night provided enough anonymity to throw your cares away.
Old pros soon took to the floor, immediately carving out enough space to display their expertise. A few amateurs timidly looked on, swaying slightly, while other free spirits did what came naturally and let their bodies lead the way.
People from all cultures, social classes, and backgrounds came to Chicago SummerDance. They were there to learn, have fun, and leave their troubles behind. People only looked at each other to share a smile or copy a step.
Robbie soon found them, and they exchanged enthusiastic greetings before he had Tania go off to dance with a distinguished-looking older man who was just starting to learn to salsa. Robbie then had Keila assist him in demonstrating a few hand juggles and double spins to couples nearby.
• • •
Jake Kelly stood just outside the dance floor, scanning the crowd. Grant Park’s Spirit of Music Garden was living up to its name.
Every single person there seemed to be lost in their own little world, as if that particular corner of Chicago was theirs alone. The vibrant flowers along the adjoining paths complemented the swirl of colorful skirts on the dance floor, and with the exception of the dance teacher’s occasional shout outs, the night belonged to music and dancing. Even the warm, humid air, lightly spiced with the scent of roses, seemed to accentuate the sultry movements.
The flare of a crimson skirt caught his attention and he turned to see the subsequent flash of a shapely pair of legs. His eyes strayed to the dancer’s hips and he gazed at the rhythmic swivels and swerves.
When he glanced up to see her face, he saw her expression was one of fun and sweet abandon, as if being among so many people was almost the same as being alone and free. She obviously had no idea she was being watched.
She spun around, and he took in her curvy figure. Funny, he normally wasn’t into her type. He usually liked busty, tall, leggy women.
The young woman reminded Jake of an actress in an old movie his mother loved, Gilda. He’d seen some old footage of the same actress once, dancing for troops during World War II. The young woman on the dance floor looked just like that, a perfect pin-up girl for a lonely soldier.
Except this girl was in full color, her soft, golden brown waves touched by the soft glow of the stage lights in front and the city lights above, not in a distant black and white film.
The dance instructor, clad in tight black pants and a satiny purple shirt, went to her and together they demonstrated a few complicated steps. The instructor then left to help someone else and Jake continued to watch the young woman, who now danced with a little boy.
But she glanced up at him suddenly and he held her eyes, feeling an unfamiliar jolt. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look down at his watch, but not before he noticed she also looked away.
Seconds later, the salsa instructor was standing beside him. When he caught Jake’s eye, he nodded knowingly toward the young woman and grinned.
“Is she one of your instructors?” Jake asked, knowing he’d been caught watching.
“No, she’s a friend, in town for just a couple of days. I asked her to come down and help,” he explained.
“I was thinking she looks like the actress in this old forties movie, Gilda,” Jake said, uncharacteristically feeling a need to explain.
“Ah. Rita Hayworth.” The instructor bobbed his head in agreement. “Rita’s father was a Spanish flamenco dancer, you know.”
Jake didn’t know, but he nodded politely. They were silent for a moment, and then, “You’re Jake Kelly, right?”
“Right,” Jake repeated. Though he wasn’t exactly well-known, his image appeared often enough in local social media.
“I’m Robbie.” The instructor extended his right hand, which Jake shook. “Is this your last crazy night out on the town before you announce your candidacy and the media stalking begins?” Robbie asked, eyes twinkling.
“Not exactly — how do you know I’m going to run?”
“Word gets out,” Robbie said. “Is dancing on your agenda tonight?”
Jake finally smiled. “No. I’m waiting for a friend; this is just a convenient place to meet.”
At that moment his cell phone tone signaled he had a text message. “Stood up?” Robbie asked.
“No, she’s just running late.”
“Then dance. Trust me, it’ll do you good.” Robbie put his fingers to his lips and whistled quick and loud. The young woman Jake had been watching turned toward the sound and Robbie waved her over. She looked at Jake and visibly hesitated before walking over to them.
“This gentleman needs to dance,” he told her when she reached them.
“Needs to?” He thought her voice would be sultry for some reason, but it wasn’t, it was sweet.
Sultry or sweet, Jake really didn’t want to dance. “I really don’t — ”
But the instructor gently took hold of their arms and turned them toward each other before more forcibly shoving them to the nearest empty space: a dark corner of the dance floor.
The young woman finally looked up at him and he looked down at her. Her eyes were a warm shade of topaz and the waves in her hair untamed. Warm and untamed — definitely not his type.
• • •
Keila looked up at the intense, brilliantly blue eyes that had been watching her earlier. The man in front of her seemed full of himself, she could tell by the way he looked at her and by the way he held himself. “Don’t worry,” she finally spoke. “We don’t have to dance.”
But he didn’t move. Finally, he looked to his side, observed how the young man there held his partner, and turned back to Keila. He copied the stance and caught her left hand in his right, sliding his left hand around her back. The instant his hands were on her, Keila’s pulse picked up.
The orchestra began playing Sonora Carruseles’ “Micaela,” a vibrant, spirited song with a powerful beat that lured bodies to surrender. “Have you ever danced salsa?” she asked, instinctively stepping closer and raising her right hand to his shoulder.
“No, never,” he replied, his voice low.
“Oh, okay.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll start with the basics, then.” Assuming the correct posture, she instructed, “Step forward with your left foot as I step back with my right, like this.”
“Good. Now step back and I step forward. Like that.” They began to move slowly, but in sync. “Try to rock your hips, just a little, like this.” She moved his right hand to the swell between her waist and her hip, the way she’d done many times before when helping Robbie w
ith his pupils. But this man’s hand was warm and firm and she felt an uncomfortable sense of awareness.
“Like this?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes while he copied her movements. She nodded.
They practiced the step a few times. “Now, when you step forward, try shifting your weight into me, leaning into me, like this.” She leaned into him, just as he leaned into her. He then lost his footing, stepping forward just as she did the same. His hands went down to her waist, her hands around his arms and their eyes locked, unsettling her again. She looked away first, flustered because his eyes were unreadable, and at a loss of patience with herself. Focus on the steps, she chided herself.
Again, she cleared her throat. “Salsa is a sensual dance, so I’m going to have to give you certain physical instructions, put my hands on you now and then, and look into your eyes because that’s the way it’s danced. And I’m just letting you know because it’s obvious you’ve never done this before and I don’t want you to be embarrassed,” she explained, ignoring the fact that he didn’t look embarrassed.
And for the first time since she’d seen him watching her from the sidelines, he smiled. A spontaneous and seriously sexy smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it personally.”
“Good.” Keila looked up and, embarrassed at her babbling, laughed.
• • •
Jake found he couldn’t stop smiling. She laughed like she danced, with abandon. Right now, surrounded by the powerful cadence of Afro-Caribbean music and holding a stranger that felt good in his arms, he felt anonymous, and that made him feel free, too.
The young woman shook her head and said, “Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’ll teach you the side steps, and we’ll put it all together.”
Jake followed her instructions and her lead, unwilling to take his eyes off her unusual eyes, or his hand off the appealing curve between her waist and hip.
Though he’d never danced salsa and had never expected he would, it wasn’t long before he was getting the steps. “Rock, step, slower side step, tap. Now forward. Rock, step, slower side step, tap ... great, you’re getting it.” She smiled up at him, noticeably surprised he was succeeding, and he felt as if he’d just solved every problem plaguing the human race. “Now try to lead,” she instructed.
