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Chapter One
Casey Richardson stopped correcting the drooping hands and unpointed feet of her nine and ten-year-old students doing ronde de jambes at the barre when a man barged into her sunny mirrored studio, interrupting her Saturday morning ballet class.
A man who just happened to resemble a Greek god walking the earth in jeans and silky black tee. She ignored the flush of heat going through her at the sight of this hunk and said, “Excuse me, sir, but we have a class in session.”
He shot Casey an impatient glance, stunning her with teal blue eyes. Grabbed little Josh by the arm and tugged him toward the lobby.
She’d seen Josh’s parents at the last dance recital, and this guy definitely was not one of them. “Wait a second,” Casey said, trying to cut him off as he made his way from the studio. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He stepped past her.
The classroom of students fell silent. Casey turned to them. “Same drill. Ronde de jambes. Let’s go.” She nodded to Jiao at the piano. Her accompanist went into Chopin’s Waltz in C-sharp minor.
Casey raced out to the lobby after the man (trying not to notice he had the most splendid back she’d ever seen). Timid Josh gave him no resistance, but looked like he was about to cry.
“Lisa, block the door.” The eighteen-year-old intern at the desk just sat there wide-eyed, unprepared for the sudden call to arms.
But Casey wasn’t about to let some pervert make off with one of her precious flock. As the hunk reached for the door handle she slipped in front of him, her back to the door, her palms pressed like stop signs against his chest. She told herself she didn’t notice the hard curve of muscle beneath her hands. Or that his face looked even better up close. “Hold it or I’ll call the police. Who are you, and what do you want with Josh?”
He gave her a cocky smirk, shifted his focus to her low-cut leotard and continued down her body with an assessing gaze. Casey practically lived in tights, but she suddenly felt undressed and exposed. She dropped her hands.
He murmured, “And who are you?”
His challenging tone struck an old chord of self-doubt deep within Casey. After so many years of not quite fitting anywhere and seeing everything she tried go up in smoke, she’d begun calling herself “Calamity” Richardson. But at twenty-eight the hard won accomplishment of running her own studio gave her a chance to silence that internal voice.
And after the troublesome letter she received this morning, Casey already had enough on her plate without letting some dude reeking in attitude come marching in from nowhere with an intimidating side dish of his own bad day.
“I’m Casey Richardson, the director of North Cove Dance Academy. And you are?”
“I’m his father. So, don’t go all rabid on me, pixie.”
“Josh, do you know this man? Tell me the—”
Mr. Handsome cut her off. “You want my I.D? Or maybe you need a sample of my DNA?”
“I want to hear from Josh.”
“He’s my other dad,” the boy said sheepishly.
The man snorted. “Other dad? I’m his real father. Now let’s go, Josh.”
“Except, Dad, I’ve got to change my clothes.”
Coming out of his agitated state, Josh’s father seemed to finally look at the boy, who still wore tights and ballet slippers. “Oh. Okay. Go ahead.”
He turned those keen blue eyes onto Casey once more as Josh ran off. “Don’t tell me you never noticed his last name is different from his mother’s.”
Oops. Casey suddenly remembered that Josh’s mom and the man she’d seen her with at the dance recital introduced themselves as the Wentoffs, but the boy was registered as Josh Byrne. “I’m so sorry. Then you must be…”
“Drew Byrne.” He said it with the air of someone used to impressing people with his name.
Was she supposed to recognize him from somewhere? A lot of her students had wealthy, sometimes famous, parents. “Um, yes, of course. Exactly. I forgot about—”
“Forgot, huh? Guess all those pirouettes make you kind of dizzy.”
She wanted to belt him. “I was trying to protect your son from a stranger who came rudely stomping unannounced into the middle of my ballet class. Normally when a parent needs to contact their child during class they simply go to the desk and Lisa or someone else in charge will come to me.”
The self-important Mr. Byrne wasn’t even listening. He was gazing around at the dance academy’s humble waiting lobby that probably looked to him as if it were decorated by the Salvation Army. Which wasn’t far from the truth, since the worn green sofa and armchair came from her late grandmother’s cellar.
But Casey did not appreciate being treated like some irritating gnat. She gritted her teeth, fuming inside. “Mr. Byrne, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me barging into your office while you’re…”
Drew Byrne stepped so close her voice shrank to nothing. She could feel the heat coming off his diesel cut frame. His warm skin smelled of soap and sandalwood and something incredibly male. He was at least a head taller than Casey, and when he looked down, a lock of sun-streaked sand-colored hair fell across his brow. “If you’re dressed like that, Ms. Richardson, it might be fun.”
Uh-oh. Maybe it was better being an overlooked gnat. She controlled the shiver in her body, but couldn’t stop the blush that flamed her cheeks. This was clearly a man who knew how to play a woman. “What I mean is next time you—”
“Won’t be a next time. Josh isn’t coming back.”
“What? Is his mother aware of this? She told me Josh loved his classes here. It’s good exercise for him. And he’s exceptionally talented.”
“I’m not often in the neighborhood to keep an eye on what’s going down with Josh, but there is no way I’ll let Heather or you turn my son into some prancing fruitcake.”
Good thing Josh came shuffling out of the dressing room or Casey might have indulged in the terribly unprofessional and bad for business move of giving a nasty piece of her mind to a student’s parent.
The boy tossed a shy half-smile at Casey. But Drew Byrne showed her his back. Without so much as a nod, he pushed open the door and led his son outside.
“How obnoxious,” Casey growled. But she couldn’t stop herself from sneaking to the side of the window and peering out.
It was a bright July morning and a gleaming white Escalade limo waited along the curb. The driver got out and held open the back door of the car. Josh hopped inside as if he knew the drill all too well. Drew Byrne gracefully folded his large frame into the back seat next to Josh and gestured to his driver.
As the car took off, Casey suddenly remembered she had a class full of students waiting for her. She rushed back into the studio, determined not to let this arrogant jerk ruin her day any more than the tsunami of bad news that came pouring out of the letter she’d received this morning. This academy was the only thing in her life that she’d ever done right. And she wasn’t about to see it go down the tubes.
***
They drove east through the North Fork toward the ferry. Drew relaxed into the Escalade’s soft leather seat and gazed out the window at the flattened runways of green earth that stretched across the horizon. Most people had no idea Long Island’s East End was so rural, a part of New York that more closely resembled New England, with farming hamlets and briny fishing villages.
For Drew Byrne, staring out at the acres of eye settling and nerve calming open space was as close as he ever got to being the slightest bit meditative. But he couldn’t deny there was something enchanting about the sunlight on this skinny strip of land that jutted over a hundred miles into the Atlantic.
Josh peered up at his father, his eyes wide with worry. “Dad? Did I hear you tell Miss Casey I can’t go back to her school?”
“You don’t need her. We can work out together at my gym. I’ll get you in better shape than some ballerina can.”
Josh turned away and rested his head ag
ainst the window glass. Silence filled the space between them.
Drew watched his son, at first irritated. Then the dejected resignation in the slump of the boy’s narrow shoulders touched his heart. What was so wrong with his idea? This always happened. Every time Drew thought things were going along pretty well, Josh would bail on him. But he never knew how to fix it.
He rested his arm over the sulky boy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hey, dude, you hungry? What say we knock down some burgers?”
Josh shrugged.
“We’ve got the whole Fourth of July weekend together. Figured we might get a jump on the day.”
The boy stared at the floor of the car and mumbled, “Weekends begin on Friday night.”
“Well, I was busy yesterday.”
“You said we’d go to see the new Harry Potter movie.”
Damn, he’d forgotten about that. Maybe because a kid flick was hardly the way he liked spending a Friday night. At thirty-two he still preferred to chill down from an intense week of business with some female assistance. And when it came to hooking up with delicious new playthings, Drew could compete with Manhattan’s best.
“Maybe we’ll go tonight.”
“What about now? Sean saw it already.”
“Sure you want to waste a beautiful sunny day like this inside a dark movie theater?”
“Sean said it was awesome.”
“Look, I’ll check out what’s showing around Southampton this evening. In the meantime we’ll spend today on the boat. Fish a little. Stop at the yacht club to eat. And tomorrow we’ll go to that horse farm where—”
“Tomorrow?” Josh sat forward. “You have to bring me back to North Cove tomorrow. For our show at the community bazaar.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Fourth of July bazaar. Mom said she told you about it.”
“She did?”
Josh shook his head. “You’ve got too much going on, Dad. Better slow down or you’ll end up with a bad stomach like Grandpa.”
“Hey, I’m the father here, remember?” He gave Josh a gentle punch on the shoulder. “So what’s this about?”
“Miss Casey picked me to dance in the piece she choreographed.”
Drew’s voice rose. “You’re gonna dance in public?”
“Chill, Dad. Nobody’ll see me in tights. I’ll be wearing sneakers, baggy jeans and an oversized tee. We’re dancing to “Hey Ya!” by OutKast. Too cool.”
“OutKast? That’s hip-hop. Miss Casey does hip-hop?”
“Yeah. And she’s super good at it.”
“No kidding.” As it was, Drew had been bothered by her sleek curves and full mouth. But the idea of Miss Prim Ballerina getting down and dirty on the dance floor sent his X-rated imagination into overdrive.
“You won’t make me miss it, Dad, will you? The other kids are counting on me. And I don’t want to let Miss Casey down.”
Drew could picture that obstinate woman gloating if he allowed Josh to dance with her group tomorrow. But he could tell forbidding it would only put his already strained relationship with his son on shaky ground. And he had to admit the idea of another round of tangling with the dance teacher did have its appeal. “You like Miss Casey, huh?”
“She’s great. Lots of fun. And really pretty, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Who was he kidding? The little ballet teacher was downright stunning. Chestnut hair the same color as her big doe eyes. Taut, trim body. Soft and full in the just right places. When he got close to her she smelled like baby powder. And he liked how her cheeks got all pink and her juicy mouth parted as if she might—
“So can I, Dad? Come on, gangstas do hip-hop. Badass dudes.”
“Watch the language, Josh.”
“I get to do a flip and some B-boy moves.”
“Well…okay. As long as it’s none of that girly up-on-your-toes stuff.”
***
The last of her students gone for the day, Casey stood at the desk in her waiting area rereading the awful letter from her landlord, the reality of her situation poking holes in the bravado she’d mustered this morning. A delicate piano tinkled in the background: Jiao giving a private lesson in the small studio.
Today Casey’s back-to-back Saturday teaching schedule included rehearsing her Cove Corps dancers for their performance at the community bazaar. A rehearsal Josh Byrne missed. She’d gone ahead and coached a second boy in a scaled down version of Josh’s solo in case his insufferable father would keep him from showing up tomorrow. The sad part was Casey saw Josh finally beginning to break out of his shyness, even letting himself show off a bit in rehearsals.
When the front door opened a crack, Casey looked up to see her brother’s rugged, sun kissed face poke through. “Classes over yet?”
“All done, Parker. Come on in.”
With a body any Mixed Martial Arts competitor would envy and a face like Jon Hamm, Parker had as much reason as the brazen Drew Byrne to put on a macho swagger. But her tall, quiet brother in his cargo pants and tee seemed to have no clue how handsome he was.
He set a cardboard box on the floor. “Brought you some zucchini, tomatoes and eggplant from my garden.”
“Aha. Something tells me that last batch of ratatouille I made for you wasn’t all that bad.”
“If you don’t count the fact that even the raccoons didn’t want it.”
“Yeah, well, I seem to recall you ate plenty of it.” Casey stepped around the desk and gave him a quick hug.
She often wondered how her brother could love gardening so much. After their father died Parker had been forced to take over the family lawn care and gardening business to help support his mother and sisters. He’d actually started running it while a senior in high school during the sad and trying period when their Dad’s cancer had rendered their father too weak to handle the work. Being a couple years younger than her brother, Casey had taken on whatever babysitting, waitress and shop girl jobs she could find.
Since those days the siblings remained close, which was why Parker was able to zero in on her now, saying, “You look worried.”
Should she tell him? He’d always been the one she went to with her troubles. Parker had a confident, steady groundedness, which he swore came from working with trees and gardens. Casey tended to be scattered and prone to making emotional leaps onto paths leading nowhere.
She strolled into the waiting area across from the desk, took a pitcher from the mini refrigerator, and poured iced tea into a plastic cup. “Here, bro. You look thirsty.”
“That bad, huh?” Parker chugged down the tea and leaned a hip against the desk, his tanned muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Tell me what’s up.”
“Remember how I asked Mr. Vonrelis to give me at least a fifteen-year lease on this building so I could feel secure about sinking all my money into creating the academy?” Casey ran a hand through her unruly hair. She usually started her day with it neatly tied back, but it always fell out piece by piece until she finally gave up and pulled out the clips, letting it hang to her shoulders. “Well, he’s just informed me there is a little clause in my lease that I wasn’t aware of. It allows him to sell this property. And he says he’s already got somebody who wants to turn this building into a restaurant.”
Parker let out a slow whistle. “After all the work you put into it.”
“Hey, you were a major factor in that transformation. Or as you like to say, in the redesign of the landscape.”
She shook her head thinking about how they’d cut up old Leland’s Hardware Store into a small and a large studio with new floors, dressing rooms with showers, lobby and office. Not to mention her apartment upstairs that would have cost her a mint to put in without a brother who knew how to do everything but the plumbing.
Casey flopped onto the faded green sofa and stroked the chubby, tawny colored Buster, oldest of her three cats. “Remember the night you worked with me until the wee hours and crashed out here on Grandma’s sofa?”
“None of this would have worked if you hadn’t loaned me the extra money after I’d exhausted every penny of my savings. Should hang a plaque with your name on it in between my photos of Baryshnikov and Paloma Herrera.”
“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?”
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