Take the Lead

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Because she was literally looking in the mirror and seeing how she was dancing with Matt Rossi. Though they didn’t know the steps, were hopelessly clumsy, and weren’t very good at listening to directions, there was something special between them. It was evident in the way they stood together. In the way Matt curved his hand around her waist. In the way that they laughed more than corrected each other. In the way that they looked so good together. Like they fit.

  “One last song and then we’ll call it a night,” Shannon said as “Save the Last Dance” came on. “Don’t forget to start on the second beat. Here we go. And . . . one,” she said, waving her hand to the beat.

  As Shannon continued to count, hovering around them like a hummingbird, Traci looked up into Matt’s eyes. “I think we’re actually dancing.”

  His lips quirked. “In a matter of speaking,” he said.

  “No, I looked at us in the mirror. We look pretty good.” She smiled. “You should look. Go ahead.”

  “No, you should both count the steps,” Shannon corrected. “Wait, now, one, two-three, one . . . two-three. There you go. You’re back on the beat.”

  “I didn’t even know we had left it,” Matt said.

  “Me, neither.” She giggled. Giggled!

  “Umph.” Matt grunted.

  “Sorry!” she exclaimed, realizing that she’d just stepped on his toes.

  “You’re little. I didn’t feel a thing.”

  “Really?” She lifted a brow.

  “Okay, hardly anything.”

  “Next time, when I’m wearing real high heels, I’ll be more careful.”

  “High heels, huh?”

  “Hey, what is that tone for?”

  “Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine you all dolled up.”

  “I’ll look okay.”

  She looked so sweet, he leaned closer. “I’m thinking better than that, Traci.”

  And, her heart just melted . . . as they drew to a stop.

  “We’re done for the night,” Shannon called out. “Thank goodness.”

  Matt dropped his hands like he’d been lit on fire. “Were we that bad, Shannon?”

  “Not at all. But you two together are a challenge. You don’t listen.”

  “Wow, Shannon.” Traci was kind of hurt.

  “Don’t wow, me,” she said as she turned off the ballroom beats program. “You know what was going on.” She turned to face them. “Matt, it was a pleasure. Traci, turn off the lights when you’re done, would you? I’m going upstairs to get a glass of wine.”

  “Oh, uh. I think we drove your sister to drink.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Shannon’s just a little high-strung right now. That’s all.”

  He laughed. “Do you really believe that or do you just want me to?”

  “Neither. I’ll go apologize to her after you leave. But I promise, this isn’t anything too new. She’s already tried to teach me to dance before—with disastrous results. I’m hopeless, can’t touch my toes, and forget dance steps minutes after she tells them to me.”

  Matt walked to the doorway. “For the record, I don’t think we’re that hopeless.”

  “Oh?”

  “I did what you suggested and looked in the mirror. We do look pretty good together. You weren’t wrong about that.”

  She knew a different girl would have a better comeback, or at least a cute thing to reply. She simply smiled. “I’ll see you next time I bring Gwen by your office.”

  “Yeah. If not before. Get some rest, officer.”

  “You too, Dr. Rossi. Thanks.”

  He waved a hand and walked out of the building. When he got into his car, she turned off the studio’s lights, then walked to the window to watch him back out and then turn left onto the street.

  She was still thinking about him while she walked upstairs to the loft—and came right smack into Shannon, Jennifer, and Kimber all sitting on the barstools at the kitchen. All three were watching her.

  “So, we heard it went great,” Jennifer said.

  Traci darted a look at Shannon. She was sipping her glass of wine.

  “It didn’t actually go great. I’m afraid Matt and I aren’t real good listeners.”

  “Y’all hardly listen at all,” Shannon groused. “I’ve taught thirteen-year-olds with more control over themselves.”

  “We had control.”

  “No, you were flirting,” Shannon said.

  Kimber chuckled. “I guess this dancing thing is working out for you, Trace. Who knows, maybe you just snagged yourself a doctor.”

  “Oh, shut up. It’s not like that.” Well, she might not care what his occupation was, but she couldn’t disagree with Kimber’s assessment of their chemistry. There absolutely had been something perfectly hot between them.

  “You two, leave her alone,” Jennifer said. “I thought they looked sweet together.”

  “How did you see us?”

  “I went down and spied on you,” Jennifer said with a grin.

  “Now who’s acting like she’s thirteen?”

  “Nothing wrong with that. I was a great teenager.”

  “I’m sure you were. I bet you were perfect,” Traci retorted as she opened the refrigerator. “Hey, do we have anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Look in the second shelf,” Jennifer said. “I saved you and Shannon plates.”

  Finding the plastic container with her name on it, Traci grinned. Jennifer had made chicken piccata again. “I love you, Jennifer!”

  “I know. Eat now. You, too, Shannon.”

  “Okay. So, does everyone want to look at the flower arrangements I decided on?”

  Kimber, Jennifer, and she all shared a look. But because they were good sisters, they all smiled weakly.

  “I can’t wait,” Kimber said.

  “Oh, yay! You’re going to love the bouquets.”

  And Traci’s heart warmed again at the look of delight that shone in everyone’s eyes.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Dancing: The highest intelligence

  in the freest body.”

  —Isadora Duncan

  “I can’t thank you enough, doctor,” Mr. Davidson said as he shook Matt’s hand for the third time. “We were scared to death there for a while.”

  “Alaina is the one who did all the work,” Matt said. “It was a tough delivery but your little girl is a fighter. And so is your wife.”

  Roland Davidson grimaced as he turned a little paler. “I don’t think I can go through this again.”

  Matt tried not to smile but failed miserably. Every new father didn’t say such things, but a lot of them did. And it made him grin every time. Women really were tougher than men.

  “You did great. You were very encouraging. I’m sure Alaina will be singing your praises for months.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m sure going to be singing hers, though,” he said with a fond look at his wife.

  Matt smiled. “You two take it easy, and I’ll stop by on my rounds tomorrow morning.”

  “Then we can take Kylie home?” Alania asked with a look of hope.

  “I don’t see why you wouldn’t. She’s doing great. All we have to do is make sure Alaina gets a little rest during the night.” After reminding them both about some things to watch out for, Matt left the room.

  Once he stepped into the hallway, he paused and took a deep breath. The delivery had been a little touch and go for a while. No delivery was textbook, but Alaina’s had been especially problematic. He wanted nothing more than to get to his car and collapse at home.

  “Dr. Rossi, is everything going all right in 4A? Do you need help?”

  He lifted his eyes to see Dana heading toward him. Dana was new to the obstetrics floor. She was also a recent nursing school graduate, slightly ditzy, and had
made it known from the moment they’d met that she wouldn’t be opposed to the two of them dating.

  He didn’t often date medical personnel, but he wasn’t interested in anything with her, and he didn’t like the looks she’d been sending him. There was just something about an overly flirty woman that had never appealed to him. She tried his patience like little else.

  “Alaina’s doing well. Her husband might need some checking up on, though. I thought he was going to pass out on me for a hot minute.”

  She grinned. “That’s when I wish I could hand out a shot of bourbon to these new dads.”

  He chuckled. “You’re right, Dana. Sometimes all these dads need is a shot of liquid courage. Course, there are times when I might be tempted to partake, too.” He glanced at his phone and realized another hour had passed since the last time he’d checked. It was now closing in on 1:00 a.m. “I’m out of here. Don’t forget that Nemeitz is on call.”

  “Yes, doctor.” Just as he turned away, she said, “Oh, when are you on-call again, Matt?”

  Matt? If Marissa heard Dana call him by his first name while they were on duty, she’d give her a real talking to. He didn’t mind the use of his name as much as the flirty tone in which she said it.

  Instead of replying, he kept walking. He hoped she would think that he hadn’t heard her. Because if she pressed him again, he would probably put her firmly in her place, and he didn’t want to do that.

  Taking the stairs down to the parking lot instead of waiting for the elevator, he fought a yawn. Then, just as he was walking out, he spied a pair of cops walking by a pair of EMTs and a man on a stretcher.

  One of the cops was Traci.

  He paused, caught her eye.

  She blinked, smiled slightly, then returned to the team she was walking with.

  There was something about Traci’s single-mindedness that he loved—it was actually only one of the many things he really liked about her.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Love is two people dancing

  in the kitchen.”

  “Was that your doctor buddy you’ve been dancing with?” Dylan asked Traci as they walked back to the cruiser.

  “Yes, that was Dr. Rossi.”

  “Come on, I know you don’t always call him that. What’s his first name, again? Mark . . . or something?”

  “It’s Matt. Matteo, actually. He’s Italian.”

  “Shannon said he’s a nice guy.”

  “He is.” Thinking of how Matt was continually going above and beyond for pretty much everyone in his life, she added, “He’s taking waltzing lessons because his future sister-in-law asked him to. Who does that?”

  “Probably a guy who doesn’t want to get on his sister-in-law’s bad side.”

  Getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, she said, “Ha-ha, Lange. But listen, I’m being serious. Between those dancing lessons and how kind he was to Gwen, he’s making me rethink the male half of the population.”

  “Have you had that many bad experiences dating?”

  “No, not dating. Just in general, I guess. It comes with the territory, I think.”

  “Which territory? Cop territory or growing up in a group home territory?”

  Ouch. She was so used to everyone pussyfooting around her past, she sometimes forgot that good friends like him didn’t see a need to. “Both. But, mainly growing up in a group home.”

  He was driving back to the station house. They’d agreed to eat there, catch up on paperwork for an hour or two, and then head back out until the end of their shift.

  Dylan glanced her way as he drove down West Bridgeport Ave. “What was it like? Were you scared all the time?”

  “No.” Remembering how scrappy she’d been, she chuckled softly. “I had a hell of an attitude.”

  He looked pleased. “You were a tough kid, huh?”

  “Oh yeah. Looking back, I think I had a chip on my shoulder from the time I was four or five. I went around practically daring anyone to look at me the wrong way.” When he merely glanced at her again, she continued. “By the time I got to Mrs. Henderson’s, I’d been in something like ten foster homes. The social workers knew it was stressing me out, and not all of those foster families were great, you know?”

  He nodded. “In my experience, few can be called great.”

  That had been her experience as well. Hating that she sounded so pitiful, she lifted her chin. “My social worker was a really nice guy. He used to take me out to breakfast once a month—at six-thirty.”

  “Early.”

  “It was so early! I would get really annoyed about it, too. I used to always whine and complain that no one else’s social worker made them eat before eight. Now of course I realized that was the only time he could fit me in—because it was off the clock. The truth of the matter was that no one else had a regular breakfast date with their social worker.” She sighed. “Anyway, one day Charlie said that Mrs. Henderson had an opening and he wanted me to go visit the group home with him the next day.”

  “I guess you went and that was that?”

  “I wish it had been that way, but it wasn’t. Like I said, I had a chip on my shoulder. I kept acting like I was sure someone was going to adopt me and I wouldn’t need to be in that home. But, of course, no one adopted me.”

  “Damn, Traci. Sometimes you break my heart.”

  “I’m a success story, Officer. Don’t cry for me. But, to answer your question, through the years, I met a lot of people who I didn’t have much time for. Then I met Shannon and Kimber.”

  “And Dr. Rossi.”

  “Yeah. And you. You’re a good one, too.”

  “Now you’re going to make me blush.”

  “At least it’s dark, so I won’t have to see it.”

  Just as they were about to pull into the station’s parking lot, their radio squawked. “Better turn back around Dylan,” she said as she picked up the handset to report in. “Our mountain of paperwork is going to have to wait.”

  Dylan flicked on the lights as she started calling out directions. They were off again.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Classical dancing is like being a mother: if you’ve

  never done it, you can’t imagine how hard it is.”

  —Harriet Cavalli

  Ten Days Later

  Gwen had been living in her own fantasy dream world. There was no other explanation. After her false alarm—which had involved a lady named Stacey, Gwen had decided to simply live her life. She’d begun to work more in the kitchen with Dawn and spent her spare time napping and dreaming about being a mom.

  But then she’d started to get letters again. To her shame, every time she got another note from Hunter, she’d simply shredded it and thrown it out. The last two she hadn’t even bothered to open.

  Even worse, she hadn’t let Officer Lucky know about the additional letters and hadn’t said a single word to Ellen.

  But then she opened this morning’s note and realized she had been a fool. Denial wasn’t going to work anymore.

  “I really wish you would have told me about these notes and sightings from the very first,” Ellen told Gwen. “Your refusal to share information honestly and openly has put a lot of people in danger.”

  Standing in front of the administrator’s desk like a kid in trouble with her teacher, Gwen clasped her hands behind her back. Each word felt like a sharp pin pricking her skin. “I’m sorry, Ellen. I kept thinking Hunter would lose interest and he would forget about me and go away.”

  “Men like him rarely do that, especially if you don’t respond. Predators like Hunter thrive on seeing you scared. If you don’t respond, they miss out on that little thrill.”

  “Oh boy. And here I thought ignoring him was the best thing to do.”

  “I’m afraid all ignoring his notes did was make him angrier—and gave you a
false sense of security while you put your head in the sand.”

  Gwen didn’t exactly think she’d been doing that, but she couldn’t deny that she had hoped that eventually Hunter would have moved on. “I really am sorry. I realize that if he shows up here, I’m going to put everyone in this place in danger.”

  “You already have, dear.” Ellen frowned at the sheet of paper she was holding, Gwen’s eighth or ninth letter, and by far the most threatening. “From what you told me about his first notes, he’s certainly escalating.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “He doesn’t want to let you go,” she continued, her voice hard. She raised her chin. “You know that, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ellen eyed her for a long moment before picking up her cell phone. “Have a seat, dear.”

  She wasn’t going to kick her out. “I really am sorry.”

  “I know you are.” She smiled weakly. “This is hard but it isn’t anything we haven’t gone through before. Plus, we have friends in high places, right?”

  “We do?”

  “I’m going to call Officer Lucky and see what she thinks.”

  Gwen didn’t really think Officer Lucky was going to put her neck out any further for her. “She’s going to think the same as you, Ellen. That I made a really bad mistake.”

  “Yes, she is. And you’re going to be lucky if she doesn’t give you a real piece of her mind.” Ellen raised her eyebrows. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

  “I’ve already been the recipient of one of her lectures, Ellen.”

  She groaned and punched in the number.

  Gwen could hear it ring four, five, six times before clicking into voicemail.

  “Officer Lucky, it’s Ellen Landers over at the Women’s

  Center. I’m sitting here with Gwen Camp, and we think you need to see something she just received. Please call or stop by when you can.”

  After she hung up, she studied Gwen again, her expression piercing. “Maybe we should talk for a minute about why you didn’t tell anyone that these letters continued.”

  With any other person, she would have probably made up some story but she couldn’t lie to Ellen. Not after everything she’d done for her. “At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay away from Hunter.”