Kiss Me, Dancer

by Alicia Street; Roy Street

  “Sounds like you intend to fight him.” Parker turned and picked up the letter she’d left on her desk. He made a grumbling sound. “You need a lawyer to look into this.”

  “Know any freebies? I’m flat broke as usual.”

  “What about that woman on the community board?”

  “No. I don’t want news of this getting around. I’ll lose my students. People have a way of abandoning a sinking ship. Speaking of which…” Casey put an index finger to her sealed lips as Jiao walked into the room escorting her piano student to the door.

  Jiao Xin, forty and recently divorced, was a tiny, energetic woman who’d once been a serious contender as a concert pianist. She and Casey had crossed paths while both worked in an off-Broadway play that folded after two weeks.

  When the student left, Jiao greeted Parker and said, “You missed some excitement here today. Your sister almost went pugilistic on a guy.”

  Casey groaned. Parker looked at her, eyebrows lifted in question.

  Jiao laughed. “He came bursting into the middle of class and dragged his son out by the arm. Guess he couldn’t get used to the idea of seeing Josh in tights.”

  “Who was it?” Parker asked.

  “A divorced dad from out of town,” Casey said, trying to sound casual, when in fact her memory of the sexy hunk sent a rush of heat right through her. “His name’s Drew Byrne.”

  “Drew Byrne of Byrne Trucking?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you happen to notice his arms?”

  Every perfectly sculpted inch of them. Casey nodded, hoping her brother didn’t pick up her hormonal reaction to the man.

  Parker pointed to his own shoulder. “See a tattoo of a tractor trailer on his delt?”

  “Well, now that I think of it, he did have a blue truck tattooed there.” Not that she could focus too well with Mr. Gorgeous standing close to her.

  “That’s Drew,” Parker said.

  “You know him?”

  “I work for him. He’s one of my South Fork clients. He and his dad own one of the biggest trucking companies in America. Guy’s filthy rich. And a powerhouse. Unlike me, plugging along to keep the business our dad started afloat, Drew Byrne turned his father’s business into a Fortune 500 company.”

  Casey wondered if that accounted for his self-important attitude or if he’d always been that way. “Well, Mr. Powerhouse and I sort of locked horns.”

  She’d learned a harsh lesson in the past about guys like him. Still, a part of her was itching to ask if he’d remarried.

  But then Parker said, “Just as well. Byrne’s a notorious womanizer. He was recently on that reality show. The one where they link ladies up with bachelor millionaires. Or in his case, a mega-millionaire. I couldn’t resist checking it out.”

  “Oh, yeah? How was he?” Jiao asked.

  “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want him getting close enough to work his moves on my little sister.”

  “Not to worry,” Casey said. “I steer miles away from his kind.”

  Chapter Two

  Wandering through sweaty crowds at a community bazaar was hardly the way Drew wanted to spend this ninety-degree Sunday. Especially when he could be tooling around on the Pretty Baby, his fifty-foot Ferretti yacht he moored near his home in Southampton. He hated these kinds of events. Checking out the scenery, he had to admit they did a decent job of transforming the North Cove playground into a fair ground. But he felt out of place. Old ladies selling pies. Booths with rows of cutesy stuffed animals perched behind targets for water pistols and baseballs, squeals and laughter from children on the Tilt-A-Whirl, Bumper Cars and Ferris Wheel.

  Then there was Miss Casey. Ah, yes, the phenomenally sexy, but oh so irritating, Miss Casey. He watched her directing her group of kids near the raised platform that served as a stage. Fussing with their costumes and hair, waving her arms around as she gave instructions, even bandaging a last minute boo-boo. Her animated face all lit up.

  She didn’t wear those body clinging dance tights today. But seeing her in a tank top and tight denim shorts put him in just as much pain. He couldn’t stop picturing those smooth, muscular legs wrapped around him, her perky butt in his hands.

  What would Casey be like in bed? He’d slept with his share of sexy bimbos as well as brainy lawyers, doctors, Wall Streeters, and an unbelievable actress turned real estate agent. But he’d never had a ballerina. Maybe if he…

  Nah, wouldn’t work. Drew could tell Casey was a Screener. One of those women who screened out players with her own specially built in software. Party-pooping gatekeepers with a sixth sense for alpha bulls who were only interested in one thing: getting in and getting out. She probably held lofty ideals about relationships and seeking the deeper stuff that led to the dreaded M word.

  And marriage was a mistake Drew had no intention of ever repeating.

  He gritted his teeth, chewing on the ice cubes from his way too sweet orange soda. Staring down at his watch, he wondered how much longer before the dance would begin.

  Why did Heather get their son involved in this sort of thing? When Drew was Josh’s age he’d been an all-star catcher for his Little League team, not to mention taking his first algebra course while the other kids were still working on basic math. Always a step ahead of the competition. That was Drew Byrne’s motto.

  Finally a portly, silver-haired woman in a huge, flower-bedecked hat that looked like one you’d see worn at the Kentucky Derby spoke into a mic. “Now we have a special treat for you. A group of young dancers handpicked and trained by Casey Richardson, the director of the North Cove Dance Academy. Let’s hear it for the Cove Corps!”

  Drew rolled his eyes and joined in the polite applause, hoping whatever he was about to witness wouldn’t mean he needed to tell Josh too big a lie about how much he enjoyed it. The boy had been all keyed up this morning over this grand performance.

  The dance included eight kids. Two were older girls who looked maybe fourteen or fifteen. The rest seemed closer to Josh’s age. He was not the only boy, but one of three. And, no, they weren’t in tights, but in jeans and sneakers.

  To Drew’s surprise the group was not just a bunch of kids slopping around. The dance actually looked like something you could see on a music video. But the real surprise came when Josh took center stage in his Yankees cap and danced a solo, performing flips and spins and jumps that made Drew’s jaw drop. And got the audience cheering.

  Was this truly his skinny, sulky, timid son?

  Drew’s face glowed with affectionate pride. Any kid who could move like that had to be a great athlete. When the dance finished Drew clapped like mad, whistling and cheering along with the rest of the enthusiastic crowd.

  Then he made the mistake of glancing over at Casey Richardson. She looked back at him with a smug little grin and gave him a satisfied “I told you so” nod.

  ***

  Casey made the rounds, eating ice cream, cotton candy, caramel popcorn, chocolate cake and every fattening thing she could find. And lured her best bud since childhood into being her partner in crime. “Oooh, don’t you just love butter pecan?”

  “Love now. Pay later,” Natalie said, head tilting, tongue shooting out to catch the mocha almond fudge dripping down the side of her cone. “No way I’ll make target weight at my next Weight Watchers meeting.” Aside from her ash blonde hair, Natalie D’Alessio’s features were almost Eskimo-like. Her impish smile and gently slanting eyes in a round face made her an exotic cutie.

  “You could burn it off in the potato sack race.”

  “No. I will not go hopping along wearing a potato sack in front of three hundred people.”

  “What? I heard burlap’s becoming the cutting edge of fashion.”

  “And don’t try to get me on the Scrambler again, or you’ll be wearing everything I ate.”

  Casey and Natalie used to tease each other about being the only two from their high school who hadn’t landed either a husband or a career. But this year Na
talie’s little eatery, the Coffee Cove, had finally taken off. And so had the dance academy.

  Which reminded Casey of the call she’d put in to her landlord about her lease and that horrible letter he’d sent. She checked her mobile. Nothing yet.

  Natalie downed the last of her cone and said, “Since my caloric sinning spree is totally your fault, you can make it up to me with a favor.”

  “I’m bracing myself.”

  “Monica Bickles left two days ago for a trekking holiday in Tibet.”

  “Why? Are they having a sale on incense? Or has she gone bonkers for a monker?”

  “Monker isn’t even a word.”

  “I know, but monk doesn’t rhyme with bonkers.”

  Natalie made a tsking sound. “I hate to interrupt your highly intelligent train of thought, but that’s not the issue. You know Monica moonlights as a psychic reader known as Madame Lumina?”

  Casey nodded. “So I hear.”

  “And you know I’m in charge of the raffle. Well, Monica donated three free readings. But since she won’t be taking any calls in the Himalayas…”

  “Oh no. I can guess what favor you want.”

  “See that? You are psychic.”

  “No. I’m not. And I am not going to pinch hit as a gypsy for Monica.”

  “But I listed the prizes everywhere,” Natalie whined. “Someone will be expecting to win the free readings. Consider it your donation to the new library fund.”

  “I already donated ten dance classes.” Assuming I‘ll still have a dance school, thank you, Mr. Vonrelis.

  “Come on, Casey. It’s only a few measly phone calls. Look, I have a deck of tarot cards—”

  “Great. You do the readings.”

  “I also have a voice like Fran Drescher.”

  “True.”

  “And if I had to pretend I was Madame Lumina I’d get all nervous and blow it. But you’re a good actress. You could pull it off. Which is why you’re hired.”

  After a long pause and a deep sigh, Casey said, “All right. But only because of the time you took my place on that blind date with the chiropractor from Bayonne.”

  “Chiropractor from Bayonne? Oh, you mean Herbie.” Her eyes lit up. “Got news for you: he was huge.”

  “Spare me the details.”

  “No time anyway. Gotta go organize the raffle drawing.” She patted Casey’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll prep you before the first appointment. I’ll loan you my tarot deck and make you big printouts of the various meanings. And to avoid a lot of confusion, like getting a bunch of calls from Monica’s other clients, I’ll give you one of my back-up mobiles that I hardly ever use. That number will be given to the raffle winner.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this. And it isn’t psychic.”

  They parted ways and Casey ambled toward the ping-pong tables. A hand-eye game of skill she hadn’t played in years. She used to be pretty good at it. All she needed was a partner.

  “Miss Casey.”

  She turned to see Josh Byrne standing there. Next to his dad.

  Casey swallowed hard when she saw Drew Byrne’s teal blue eyes studying her. She tried glaring at him, but the way his sculpted torso filled out the sleeveless tee he wore and tapered down to his tiny jeans-clad hips made her pulse race. Ought to be illegal to be this sexy.

  She glanced at his perfectly carved delt. Sure enough, there was the tattoo of a blue tractor-trailer. So, he was definitely the womanizing player her brother mentioned. Knowing it spelled bad news, she tore her gaze away from him, forcing back fantasies of licking him from head to toe.

  Casey turned to his son and covered her discomfort by saying, “How about a game of ping-pong, Josh?”

  He tucked in his chin and shook his head. “I’m terrible at it. You’d only get annoyed with me.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Poor kid. Was it his father who made him feel that? “In fact, I’ll teach you some slick moves.”

  Drew stepped forward, his expression cocky, his eyes doing the elevator dance on her. “Like what?”

  A nervous Josh must have feared another run-in between his father and his dance teacher because he said, “My dad is a champ at it. You should play with him.”

  Oh, she wanted to play with him, all right, but not ping-pong.

  Before Casey had a chance to decline, Drew said, “Think you can handle a grown man?”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a sultry double entendre or just a snide challenge. Either way, Casey decided this obnoxious, arrogant butthead who didn’t want his kid in her ballet class could use a good ass kicking. “Try me.”

  The game moved quickly into a fierce competition. She had to admit he was good. But cracks began to show in his ego every time Casey delivered one of her trademark smashes, sending the ball like a bullet off the far corner of the table for a point. His grumbling and the tense crease that formed between his brows tickled her predatory instincts. Moving in for the kill, Casey revved up her best backhand spin shot. The same one she’d used to beat all the guys she grew up with, including her super athletic brother Parker.

  It hadn’t exactly won her any dates in high school, but that wasn’t an issue here. Mr. Sexy Moneybags was way out of her league. He’d never bother with a plain Jane scrounger like her. And if he did, it would only be for a lark. She’d learned that lesson years ago.

  Which made her fight even harder to beat him.

  It wasn’t long before Drew slammed his paddle down on the table and declared he’d had enough. “Damn. Got a cramp in my shoulder. Old wrestling injury. We’ll finish this some other time.”

  A cramp in his shoulder? He couldn’t come up with something more creative than that? “Sure,” Casey said with a saucy grin. “Any time.”

  He turned away. “Come on, Josh. Let’s grab a hot dog.”

  “We just ate hot dogs.”

  “Then it’s time for the Ferris Wheel.”

  Josh bit his lower lip and glanced at Casey with a mischievous glint before hurrying after his father.

  ***

  When Casey checked her voice-mail she saw that a call had come in from her landlord about fifteen minutes ago. She could kick herself for missing it. Weekend or not, she’d left him a frantic phone message yesterday begging him to get back to her.

  Hoping to reach him now, she made her way out of the playground. This would not be a conversation she wanted to share. Last thing she needed was for her students or their parents to hear her sounding all bent out of shape. She walked along the street beneath leafy sycamores and maples until the noise of the bazaar receded.

  He picked up. Good. “Hello, Mr. Vonrelis. Thank you for getting back to me. I was very disturbed by your letter. You see, I’ve invested so much into—”

  “You knew it was only a rental property.”

  “But that’s why I wanted such a long lease. I’ve spent the last three years establishing a school here. Starting all over in a new—”

  “Look, Miss Richardson, I’m retired. My wife and I want to move to Florida. I need to sell that property now. I already got a good offer, but if you can match it I’m willing to turn him down and sell to you instead. More than that I can’t do.”

  “What’s your asking price?”

  His answer nearly made her pass out, but Casey kept her voice steady and said, “All right. I do want to buy it. Please hold off with your other buyer until I have a chance to make some arrangements.”

  “Don’t take too long.” And he hung up.

  ***

  Drew relished sitting at the top of the Ferris Wheel when it paused. It gave him an odd sense of power looking down from this height on all those tiny people who didn’t know they were being observed.

  Like Casey Richardson. He watched her rushing out of the bazaar to the street. He could hardly believe he’d just endured a beat down from a ballerina. A sexy sugar plum fairy with the eye of the tiger and a killer backhand.

  A barely suppressed whimper on his left told Drew that Josh didn�
��t share his exhilaration for heights. It baffled him sometimes how he and his son could be so different. Was he a bad father because he didn’t know what to say at a time like this?

  Drew played with a few possible comments in his head, but everything sounded so stupid and embarrassing that he remained silent. Unable to speak to his own flesh and blood. A piece of himself seated next to him that he’d watched enter this world nine years ago in the delivery room. Sure, some mistakes were made. But did it have to mean the two of them were destined to drift farther and farther apart?

  The Ferris Wheel cycled down, and their turn to step off came. “Hear that, Josh? They’re announcing the raffle drawing. Should we go find out if we won a free DeCeccho’s pizza every week for a whole year?”

  Josh just nodded. “Okay. Sure.”

  How could the kid be so brazen on stage and so shy face-to-face? Throughout the afternoon people had stopped Josh to congratulate him on his performance. It only made the boy shrink and blush and stutter.

  The awkward part for Drew was that he did not know any of these neighbors and friends except for a man who ran the ice cream parlor where they’d often grab a shake before heading to Drew’s turf in the Hamptons. He usually didn’t stick around the North Fork when he picked up his son for a weekend. This was Heather’s territory, and even though they’d been divorced for seven years, he still liked to keep their worlds separate. Except this place was also his son’s world. And today Drew noticed how much of it he was missing.

  The same person he’d seen bopping around with Casey Richardson stood onstage at the mic. She had a cadre of little girls around her. The biggest girl held a glass bowl, and the others took turns plucking out folded pieces of paper with the names of people entered in the raffle. There were about twenty prizes, from a grand prize of a brand new laptop computer all the way down to a homemade pie from the local bakery.