“There’s a lot of things we can do for them, Kat,” he said. “For both of our families. It’s what we always wanted. What we talked about.”
She drew a deep breath, shadows dancing in her eyes. “We did. Yes.”
He drew their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “We didn’t get here the way we wanted to, but we’re here, nonetheless.”
“Yes,” she said, shifting away from him, her gaze lifting to the sky. “We’re here now.”
His gut clenched. She didn’t have to say more for him to read the subtext that said, “But for how long?”, before she added, “I believed we’d really make all of those things happen, too.”
“So did I.”
She turned back to him, her soft fingers trailing over his jaw. “I know you did.”
“We let distance exist where it shouldn’t have.”
“There wasn’t a way around it,” she said. “One of us would get a job offer when the other was already committed and we both would know it was too good to pass up. And if one of us missed an opportunity and never got another that good, or big, it would have fed resentment.” She shook her head. “We couldn’t have done anything but what we did.”
Guilt twisted inside Jason because he knew he’d had opportunities to put Kat first, to turn down work that in hindsight hadn’t moved his dreams along. Not only had they not been the best career moves, he’d lost the person he wanted to share his dreams with. He’d lost her.
“We did a lot of things wrong, Kat—I did a lot of things wrong—but they molded me, and us, into the people we are now. We can’t change those things but we can use them to make a better future.”
“I don’t want to think about the future. When I do that, I think about a time limit, because we always have one. I want to think about right now. I just want to enjoy what time we have.”
Jason fought the urge to argue, to demand she see his sincerity, his regret, his love. They had years of pain and separation, years of built-up emotions.
“Kat—” he started.
“Jason!” Sheila called. “Your mother wants to talk to you.”
Jason silently cursed the bad timing, needing to tell Kat how much he loved her.
“They’re all excited and that’s because of you,” Kat said, and leaned in to kiss him. “Now is good, Jason. Now is what I want to live.” She got to her feet and pulled him up with her, motioning to the door.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Jason parked Kat’s rental car in his garage and got out. He would have rounded the car to get Kat’s door, but she was out before he could make it. He met her at the hood of the car.
“I should have gone to my place and picked up some clothes.”
Jason kept his expression unchanged and said, “Why would you do that?”
“Well I…I thought I was staying here.”
He shook his head and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m packing a bag to stay with you, if you’ll have me.”
“What? Why? We’re here.”
“Because I’ve made you believe my world is more important than yours and it’s not.”
“No,” she said, her fingers curling in his shirt. “I don’t think that.”
“Well,” he said, “I’m just going to make sure you don’t feel that now and I know I can’t expect to prove that to you overnight. So I’m going to make a deal with you, or I hope I am, if you’ll agree.” He brushed the hair from her eyes. “I’ll stay with you until I leave for the auditions. We’ll live in the present. Then, Kat, when I’m back next month, when you know I’m really back, I’m going to ask you to marry me again.”
Shock slid over her face. “Jason—”
He kissed her, and her moment of resistance melted into a soft, sensual joining of tongues.
“Don’t respond,” he said. “I’ll take the living in the ‘now’ if that’s what you want. But know this. I hope the ‘now’ is still going on in fifty years.”
13
WEEKS LATER, KAT stood inside a busy, oversized dressing room, where a group of twenty dancers, as well as makeup, hair and costume people, were preparing for a live television special inside the hotel’s Blue Moon nightclub, with Jason and a list of special superstar guests hosting. Kat knew the guest list, but few of the others did, for security reasons.
Nicole Smith, a rising star who’d been an opening act for Marcus on Kat’s last tour, would be there. The idea was to promote the stage show and the new season of Stepping Up. The TV show would begin auditions in a week, and Jason would leave with it.
Kat’s fingers tightened on the clipboard she held. She told herself to stop thinking about “the end” when it came to her and Jason. Over and over, she had to remind herself to enjoy what time they had together, not to regret living outside the present.
“I need my female understudies now,” Kat shouted into the room. Three excited dancers rushed forward. Kat felt they’d earned their own special moment on stage, and choreographed a unique performance for them.
Kat frowned as her fourth dancer failed to appear. “Where’s Marissa?”
The room turned to a murmur with shouts for Marissa randomly being heard, but Marissa simply wasn’t present.
“She’s been gone a good half an hour,” one of the hairdressers commented. “She got a phone call and left.”
“Kat!”
Kat turned at the sound of Ellie’s voice behind her. “We have a problem,” Ellie said, entering the room.
“What problem?” Aside from Marissa being nowhere to be found, Kat thought grimly.
“Marissa says she’s too sick to dance,” Ellie said, as if replying to Kat’s unspoken concerns.
“I can fill in for her,” Tabitha said, stepping into the room, dressed in sweats and a tee. “Kate taught me the routine.”
Why would Tabitha have one of the understudies teach her this routine? Warning bells went off in Kat’s head, and her gaze brushed Ellie’s. The look on the other choreographer’s face told her that Ellie heard those bells as well.
“Where’s Marissa?” Kat asked Ellie, repeating her earlier question to someone who hopefully could give her an answer.
“In the bathroom right off the stage,” Ellie said. “She says she can’t come out without throwing up.” She laughed without humor. “I asked her if she was pregnant.” She held up a hand. “Don’t worry. She said she isn’t.” Her gaze brushed the three dancers’ skimpy outfits. “And a good thing in those outfits. Yowza, they’re sexy.” She sighed and rubbed her stomach. “I better cut back on the chocolate or I’ll never be able to wear anything but a clown costume again.”
Tabitha snorted. “That doesn’t stop a few dancers I know from indulging.”
Kat’s gaze flicked to Tabitha, who’d just barely contained her nastiness to Marissa since their talk a month before. Kat had heard a few too loudly spoken remarks from Tabitha and her slender frame compared to Marissa’s more Kim Kardashian-type figure, not to know who she was talking about. “How did you know to be here, Tabitha? You were off tonight.”
“Marissa called me and told me she needed me to fill in for her.”
“Marissa called you,” Kat said flatly, her gaze boring into Tabitha’s. She didn’t believe her, not for a New York minute. She watched the young dancer, waiting for her to break under scrutiny, but quickly surmised that wasn’t going to happen. Tabitha was an ice witch, after fame at all costs. Kat was pretty sure Marissa was the one paying, or she would be, if Kat let it happen. Kat glanced at Ellie. “Jason wants the featured dancers on stage to meet Nicole before we go live.”
“Should I get into costume?” Tabitha called from behind Kat.
Kat turned at the door, grinding her teeth at that question because her gut said that Tabitha was up to no good. “Yes,” she said, pausing. “As a precautionary measure.”
Kat headed out of the dressing room and double-timed it down the narrow hallway, pausing to the shout of her name at least four times in a short distance. Finall
y, Kat managed to make it to a small private bathroom just off the stage door, and she knocked on the wooden door.
“Marissa?”
“Yes,” she said immediately and Kat could hear the stuffy nose and gravely voice that could be from sickness, as easily as they could be a product of tears. “I’m here.”
“Can you open the door?” Kat asked.
“No. No. I’m sick and I don’t want to make you get sick. Opening night is coming.”
Kat frowned. “Marissa, what’s going on? You weren’t sick an hour ago.”
“I was,” she said. “I was hiding it. I tried so hard to hide it.”
Kat didn’t believe her. She just didn’t. “If you’re sick then let’s get you to your room. Open up, Marissa. I can’t go deal with the show knowing you might pass out in there and be seriously ill.”
“Kat, I’m fine. I am. Please go do the show.”
“I can’t do that, Marissa,” Kat said, testing the theory bouncing around in her head. “I know Tabitha has something to do with this.”
There was a telling silence before Marissa said, “I’m sick. I really am sick.”
Oh, man, Kat thought. Marissa wasn’t sick. Kat had been right. Tabitha was up to no good. “Let me in and let’s talk.”
“You have to go do the show.”
“So do you,” Kat said. “This is your dream, Marissa.” Silence. “Open up, honey. We need to talk.” More silence and then the lock on the door popped. Marissa appeared in the doorway with mascara dripping down her pale cheeks, her eyes red, her hair a dark, rumpled mess of curls.
Kat stepped into the bathroom and urged Marissa back inside. “Talk to me, Marissa.”
Marissa hugged herself. “This just isn’t for me, Kat,” she said, bypassing the sick excuse.
“Funny,” Kat said. “It sure looks like it’s for you when you’re dancing.”
“I…” She hesitated, her lip quivering. “No. I…don’t think so.”
“You do know that Tabitha wouldn’t waste her time taunting you if she wasn’t intimidated, right?”
Marissa cut her gaze away.
“Marissa,” Kat said softly. “Talk to me.”
She looked at Kat. “I don’t like the nastiness,” she said. “It’s not who I am or what I’m made of.”
“You’re talking about Tabitha,” Kat said, and it wasn’t a question.
“It’s not just Tabitha,” Marissa said. “It’s a lot of people in this business.”
“That’s true,” Kat said. “I’ve dealt with my share of egos, but I’ve met big stars who were humble, and who did good things for others with the rewards of their success, too. I focus on those people.”
“I just want to dance, Kat,” she said. “I don’t want to play the popularity contest. I don’t want to be threatened and bullied.”
“Wait. Who threatened you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Who threatened you?”
“It wasn’t really a threat. Not directly.” She bent down and pulled something from a bag on the floor, a newspaper clipping, and held it out to Kat.
Kat took it and read the headline, about a robbery ten years before, and glanced up at Tabitha. “What does this have to do with you?”
“My father,” she said. “My mother had a heart condition and we didn’t have the money for her medical care. He tried to rob a bank. He’s out now and rebuilding his life. It would destroy him to have this all over the paper and it would be a scandal for the show.”
Kat’s heart squeezed. “Your mother?”
“Died six months after he went to prison.” Her voice cracked. “So you see why I can’t go on.”
“No,” Kat said, knowing now why she liked Marissa, and even felt protective of her. Marissa was a sweet girl and a good person. “I see a reason for you to do this show and rise to the top. Tonight comes with a big paycheck and a whole lot of exposure.”
“I know but—”
“Did you call Tabitha to take your spot?”
“Yes.”
“Because she gave you this clipping, didn’t she?” Kat asked, holding up the paper.
Marissa looked to the ground.
“That means yes,” Kat said, furious now. “Are you willing to write a statement about what happened tonight?”
Her eyes went wide. “No. Kat, no. If I do that she’ll call the tabloids and turn this into a nightmare.”
“She’s not dancing tonight in your place,” Kat said, “so I suggest you get to hair and makeup and then meet me on stage in fifteen minutes. We’ll head to the club from there.”
“I can’t do this, Kat.”
“You can,” she said. “And by doing so you’ll make a better life for you and your father. There will always be a bully in everything you do. That’s life. Face this down and fight for your dream. No one else can do it for you.” Kat hugged her. “Fix your face so no one knows you were crying and head to the dressing room. I’ll see you on stage for some last-minute instructions before we head to the club.”
Kat didn’t give her time to say no. She exited the bathroom, quickly heading out onto the stage. She was already walking toward the group standing in the center when she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Marcus,” Kat croaked at the sight of the tall, dark and good-looking, incredibly famous pop singer—the ex she hadn’t told Jason about.
“There’s my tigress,” Marcus said and then rolled his tongue. “Surprise, baby. Somebody had the flu so I’m filling in. I came to help give you a grand opening.”
The old saying “you could hear a pin drop” had never been so true. The room had just learned what she’d failed to tell Jason and what Marcus clearly assumed everyone already knew—that she and Marcus had dated. Everyone but Marcus understood the implications of Jason and Marcus standing there side by side. Kat’s gaze went to Jason’s and she saw the hurt in his face.
Someone called his name from below the stage. “Jason! We need you at the club. We have a problem.”
“Kat,” Jason said, and there was no mistaking the tightness in his voice. “Marcus is going to perform for us tonight. He says you know the number and he only needs one dancer. You. I’ll leave you all to talk this out.” He turned away without another word.
Kat’s gaze went to Marcus’s dark brown stare, the rest of the room fading away. “That, Marcus, would be my ex-husband I told you about.”
His eyes went wide. “Jason is your ex? Oh damn, Kat. You never told me his name. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she said, already in motion to follow Jason. Marcus wasn’t the type of person to start trouble. In fact, he hated people who were. This was her fault for not telling Jason. It was past history, and it just hadn’t seemed important.
Kat caught up to him. “Jason, wait. Please.”
“Now is not a good time for this, Kat,” he said without looking at her.
“I love you, Jason.”
“Just not enough,” he said. “That’s the part I never seem to get.”
She grabbed his arm forcing him to stop walking. “That’s not true.”
He turned to her. “I get the math, Kat. You left Denver and went to him.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I hadn’t even met Marcus when we were in Denver.”
“Jason,” Kevin, one of the production assistants, shouted running down the hall toward them. “Camera one blew. I’m trying to move in another one but I’m having trouble with the club manager.”
Desperation expanded inside of Kat, tightening her throat. “I know now isn’t the time for this, but please tell me you’ll give me a chance to explain.”
He stared at her a hard two seconds and turned away without an answer. A vise tightened on her chest. Kat couldn’t watch him leave. Taking action was the only way to fix this.
She made a beeline to the bathroom and knocked. “Marissa, if you’re in there, open up now.”
Marissa appeared almost instantly. “Come w
ith me,” Kat said. “You’re going to dance with Marcus tonight and I need you to learn the routine.”
“Marcus? As in the amazingly hot pop star Marcus?”
“I wouldn’t say amazingly hot,” came Marcus’s voice from behind Kat and she would have laughed if not for the fact that she wanted to cry. Marcus wasn’t conceited. In fact, he was as perfect a guy as anyone could want, minus one important detail. He wasn’t Jason.
14
AFTER SENDING MARISSA to the costume department and getting Marcus to the right person to fit him with a microphone, Kat headed to the stage where Ellie, Tabitha and the three other featured dancers were still congregating.
“Tabitha,” Kat said, already with a plan in mind. “You’re dancing for Marissa.” She glanced at Ellie. “Marissa will be dancing with Marcus, so I’m going to be working with them to get ready. Can you please make sure they have Marcus performing last?”
“Done,” Ellie said, her eyes alight with interest at the announcement. “He’s already set up to be the final guest so we can tease the audience with a surprise coming at the end of the show. So, you’re not dancing with Marcus?”
“No,” Kat confirmed. “I’m not dancing with Marcus.”
“Why is Marissa dancing with Marcus?” Tabitha demanded, her hands on her hips. “I’m the one the audience already knows.”
“Marcus is the one the audience already knows,” Kat corrected, hoping she was teaching Tabitha a lesson about how doing things wrong wasn’t going to get her to the top. “And why are you not in your costume yet?” Tabitha looked like she might argue, but decided against it and hightailed it off the stage.
Ellie motioned to the remaining dancers. “You three, go get on your Egyptian robes and make sure the others are lined up at the exit door.” The robes fit into the theme of their first pop star’s performance. It was the beginning of a big show with a grand entry. So big and intensive to put together that Kat was thankful Jason had given everyone the next day off. She glanced at her watch. “We have ten minutes until we do the dramatic walk across the hotel to the club in the west wing.”
Winning Moves Page 11
