by Karen Ferry
I blink rapidly, thinking quickly. “Yes, sir.”
This wasn’t part of the plan, but I know better than to question his motives. He could be asking me to hop on one leg, flapping my arms like a pigeon, and I’d do it – grudgingly, yes, but I would.
Right now, I can feel my entire future is hanging on by a thread. This is my one chance, and I have to take it. The other dancers move away from the stage, and on a whim, I free my hair from the messy bun atop my head before I take my position on the stage.
I turn my head to Aidan and nod once.
“Lights!” he barks and then walks slowly backwards as the lights dim, enveloping me. It doesn’t matter there isn’t a real audience to watch me this time; as the familiar tones of the overture sounds softly around me, I fall to the stage and wrap my arms around my middle and calves, closing my eyes at the same time. The sound of the violins and the familiar tune draw me out, just like it always does, and I force my unwanted spectators from my mind.
I forget about the challenge in Aidan’s eyes.
I forget what he’s forcing me to prove.
I forget everything except the music and the feelings it evoke in me.
I dance. I twist my upper body up, up, up, trusting the muscles in my legs and feet to carry me, and I open my eyes. The moment the music becomes louder, more forceful, the bolder I become, needing everyone to see my passion unleashed. I don’t think about the steps, the jumps, or the twirls. No, instead my entire focus is on not only letting my moves speak for me, but my face as well – they must see the power my dancing conjures inside me.
The world around me ceases to exist. There is only me, the music, the faith I put in my limbs. I don’t have to count the time or the steps I take. I am simply me – free of all that ties me down. The dance sets my soul free.
“Enough!”
Aidan’s voice breaks me from the dream-like state I’m in, and the reality of where I am crashes into my conscience. The music is cut off, and as I raise my chin, looking for him, the lights are brought back. My breaths fall in a rapid staccato, and I wipe the sweat from my neck and forehead where tendrils stick. I meet his narrowed gaze and jut my chin at him, my head held high. I’m not backing down.
When it comes to the only passion I’ve ever possessed, I refuse to give up.
There is no doubt in my mind I was born to do this.
But Aidan holds all the power here, and he knows it.
“You got the part, Miss Winters. Whether you manage to keep it remains to be seen. Now…”
His voice drones on, but all I hear inside my head is that I got it. All the hard work has paid off, and silently, I move away from the other dancers to go hide in the shadows. The thickness in my throat and the prickling in my eyes are signs that I’m two-point-five seconds away from bursting into tears, and I can’t have anyone see me like that.
They’ll only find me weak, the exact opposite of who I really am.
But the refuge I seek isn’t there. Instead, I face plant directly into something hard, solid, and warm…and that is infinitely better. Arms come around me, and, still unable to think straight, I melt, leaning on whoever is holding me close. My mind is still whirring with the enormity of what just occurred back there on the stage, but here, in this strong embrace, I finally feel safe enough to let all my emotions free.
So, that’s what I do. And nothing in the world has ever felt as loving as this. I want to keep it for as long as possible, and I push up on my toes, as far as I can, and push my nose into the stranger’s neck while my arms circle his shoulders, all the while crying silent, grateful tears.
Reality can stay where it is for another couple of minutes. It isn’t going anywhere.
But for now, I’m staying exactly where I am, safe and perhaps even loved?
I don’t know.
All I do know is that I want to keep my eyes closed for a little while longer, cocooned in the strength I can feel pouring from him, and listen to his heartbeat. The low thumps fall a little bit faster the longer I linger here – and his arms grow tighter around me.
“Shh, lass…” he croons. “I’ve got ye.” His voice is soft yet rough at the same time. There is something oddly familiar yet new about it at the same time, but I push the niggling thoughts away for a few moments longer.
I don’t know how long my crying jag lasts, but finally, the tears subside, and my breaths grow steady. As I realise what I’ve done, mortification hits me like a ton of bricks, and I pull away and fall down to the soles of my feet, knowing I have to move away.
The most maddening thing is that I’m as reluctant to do that as he seems to be, because I feel his arm move up my shoulder blades, and then his fingers burrow in my hair. Tingles break out all over my body, and I bite my lip at the unknown sensations coursing through me.
“You are incredible, Amelie,” he whispers. He breathes deeply, and I feel a small huff of air against my cheek, though not for long, as his head bends, only to stop as he buries his face in my hair. A shuddering breath reaches my ears, and the tingles intensify by at least a billion.
Is that his nose? I wonder as I feel the hard planes of him all over me, and his other hand comes dangerously close to land on my butt as he runs it soothingly down my spine. It doesn’t, but I can’t quite fathom why I feel slightly disappointed by that.
“Let me take you out to dinner.”
He isn’t whispering anymore, and through the fog of desire clouding my entire being, I hold on to the fact that I know this man. Where have I heard his voice before?
Then the fog clears entirely, and I widen my eyes as the face of the journalist knocking on my door only this morning comes to mind.
Merde. What have I done?
4
Finlay
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.
Does she even know whose arms she has been clinging to for the past ten minutes?
Cursing inwardly, I sigh, thinking like mad how to get myself out of this situation.
I now know what Erik meant when he told me she is one hell of a dancer, because it feels as if my brain has been under a spell ever since I came tonight. My head feels muddled and sore as if she cast some sort of spell on me, but now that the music has been shut off and she’s here, wrapped up snug and tight against me, the mist clears.
Her soft but toned body shivers and instinctively, I tighten my arms, wondering if she’s cold.
“Let me go.”
I frown and pull away, loosening my hold on her small frame, but I can’t let her go completely.
“It’s dark,” I murmur softly, trying to explain why I’m keeping one arm around her back. I have to suppress a low hiss of desire as she half-turns, pushing her small breasts flush against my chest. We might as well both be naked for all it seems, what with her in her dancing gear – some sort of black leotard – and me in my shirt.
I can feel her curves moulding to me every-fucking-where.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Jensen?”
I can’t suppress the grin stretching my mouth. She sounds equally annoyed and embarrassed, and despite the desired effect she no doubt wants it to have, warmth settles in my groin. Fuck. The last thing I need is for her to feel what she’s doing to me. I need to remember that this isn’t some random girl I can take out on a date – she’s a job, nothing more and nothing less. She’s supposed to be my salvation. Not tempting me to succumb to an early grave.
“Watching you, of course.”
Bloody hell, I wish I could see her eyes right now.
“Of course. That’s not creepy at all.”
I love the sarcasm rolling off her lips.
“Okay, let’s at least get out of this wretched darkness before you shut me down again?”
I count the seconds as she mulls it over, almost holding my breath. Why am I so nervous? It isn’t like me at all.
When I feel her light shrug, I breathe a little easier.
“Fine. But,” she warns, “only because you wer
e nice to me.”
“I can be nice,” I hurry to assure her.
“Of course.”
“Great.”
But I don’t want to move. If I do, it means I’ll have to face reality, and somehow, it doesn’t sit well with me knowing that in just a few minutes, I’ll have to do what I came here to do.
Strangely enough, I want to forget I’m on a mission to get back into the good graces of my editor and take this woman out on a real date.
A proper date. What a novelty.
“It would help if you removed your arms around me and let me move.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, drawing back. The tips of my fingers run the length of her arms, brushing down gently. As reluctant as I am to give her space, I do as she asks and take a step back.
“It must’ve been your dancing.”
She leans her head back, capturing her hair in a long ponytail.
“What do you mean?”
I decide honesty is my best approach.
“You captivated me.”
Her arms still. “You’re very kind.”
I smirk even though she can’t see me.
“I’m not really a kind man.”
“Aah, no…you’re a journalist.”
I can’t help but grin at her matter-of-fact tone.
“Why do you talk about my occupation as if it’s worse than dirt under your feet?”
“Look, Mr. Jensen…”
“Finlay,” I interrupt.
“Okay. Finlay, I’m not sure what you’re doing here, or why you followed me to begin with, but something tells me you aren’t going to go away, so…”
“So?” I prompt.
“How about I get myself put back to rights, and you can meet me outside in twenty minutes?”
I’m not altogether sure she isn’t going to disappear on me again, but what can I do? Whether I like it or not, I need her.
“Right, okay,” I huff. “But not until you promise me you aren’t going to run away from me again.”
“I thought I just did that?” she huffs.
“Humour me, please. Say the words.”
“Fine,” she sighs exasperated. “I won’t run away again.”
“I believe you,” I answer softly. “See you again soon.”
I watch her as she turns away from me, hoping she’ll trust me long enough to hear what I want from her. What I need. My instincts tell me I’ll have to treat her with care.
And that I need to be completely honest with her.
I turn away from the shadowy stage and head outside, squinting as the harsh light in the hallway flare into my eyes. I settle down to wait for her, my right leg propped up against the wall behind me, already forming a plan to tear down her defences, but I draw a blank.
Why is she so reluctant to do this interview?
I hope she’ll tell me tonight, because things shifted while I held her as she cried.
I know I have a job to do, but I have a feeling she’s about to become so much more.
While I wait, I check my emails and text a few of the freelance photographers employed by the newspaper I work for, all the while my heart drums in my ear. If she agrees to do this, I’ll need someone to take some photos of her.
She’s true to her word. She appears before me nineteen minutes later, and I do a double take when I raise my head from my phone. Her face is free of makeup, cheeks and lips a soft, rosy pink, and the freckles on the bridge of her nose stand out against her pale skin. Her long hair looks damp, though it’s hard to tell exactly as she’s pulled it back and piled it atop her head in another messy bun. The high-neck, black pullover covers her slender neck, causing me to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from leaning down to pull it away from her milky-white skin with my teeth. Her huge bag hangs down her straight back and her arms are hidden in her jacket hanging down in front of her.
Man, she looks good enough to eat.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I croak.
Her cheeks turn a crimson red, and her eyes dart away from mine.
“Um, thanks. Shall we go?”
The brisk tone of her voice pulls me out of my stupor, and I nod.
“Sure. Lead the way.”
I reach out my hand in silent offer to relieve her from her bag, but she edges away, shaking her head in silence. We walk down the three flights of stairs, but once we get outside and I breathe in the fresh evening air, she clears her throat and I look down at her.
“I’m famished. Do you mind if we go to a pub I like? It’s not far.”
My gut tightens when her lips pull up, her eyes glancing shyly up at me from beneath her lashes.
“I could eat.”
She nods once and takes a right turn down a narrow, dimly lit cobblestoned street where people mill about us. A group of girls dressed up pass us, giggling loudly. They’re probably off to spend all night at a party now that the weekend is upon us.
“How did you find me?”
Her question makes me look down at her small frame.
“It wasn’t difficult.” I shrug and slow down, matching my stride to hers. She is so short, but whereas I thought at first there was an air of delicacy to her, I now realise I was wrong. Watching her dance proved my first impression of her wrong – there is power and strength to a person who can make her body move the way she did.
She frowns up me, and my grin widens at the stubborn glint in her eyes.
“Tell me.”
“Before you ran away from me this morning, you said you were going to class. Since I didn’t know which degree you’re aiming for, I had to phone my editor and find out what he knows about you.” I let out an annoyed huff. “That didn’t really get me anywhere, but five minutes after we rang off, I received a very unusual phone call from someone who told me where to find you. It was very strange,” I muse.
“Indeed. Quite the mystery.”
“He introduced himself as Mr. Smith.”
“You’re joking.”
I shake my head. “I can assure you I’m not,” I chuckle. “Anyway, he said he worked for your father…”
She falters, and I reach to steady her, placing my hand on her elbow. “Careful.”
“I’m okay.” She moves away, and I pretend I don’t notice. But I do. I notice everything about her.
“Do you know who the man was?”
I watch her closely as she shakes her head, but the fact she won’t meet my gaze tells me she’s lying, and I have to admit it stings a bit.
“Anyway,” I go on, pretending I believe her, “he ended up telling me where to find you, and even though I didn’t know if he was pulling my leg, I decided to go to the dance studio. And it turns out he was telling the truth, so…well, that’s it.”
“What makes you think I’ll give you what you want?”
I run my teeth over my lower lip. “I usually get my way.”
She stops walking again, and I stop to face her.
“You’re so….so….”
“Confident?” I try, my smile widening. “Tenacious? Charming?”
A small smile dances on her lips, and I breathe a low sigh in relief.
“Arrogant, actually.”
Her answer dims the mood at once, and I scowl. I didn’t expect that from her.
“Definitely not the answer I was aiming for.”
“Probably not, but that’s what it looks like from my end, Finlay.” She glances over her shoulder and points up. “We’re here.”
I open my mouth but shut it immediately. Perhaps she’ll be more willing to talk with me if I feed her first. I look at the sign hanging above the entrance as I follow her, noticing it looks like a regular Scottish pub, and once we’re inside, I nod to myself – I was right.
The ambitious dancer prefers homecooked meals. Again, not what I expected, but I have to say it’s a pleasant surprise.
“Hello, love.” A bartender in his late fifties beams at Amelie when we stop in front of the bar.
“Good evening, Gavin.”
Finally, the guard she keeps so high falls because she smiles warmly at him.
Fuck, she’s even more lovely when she smiles. Her front teeth are straight, but there’s a slight overbite to them, as if she should’ve worn braces when she was younger, but it only enhances her natural beauty. It draws you in, makes you really notice her smile, and I can’t help but wonder when I’ll get to see it again. I have to suppress the sudden urge I have to rub a hand on my chest, above my heart, because all at once it feels like I’ve been on the receiving end of a sharp jab right there.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Are ye here to let my Maggie feed you?” The man – Gavin – winks at Amelie, completely ignoring me.
“You know I can’t resist her cooking for me every time I finish dancing. Do you have a table for two available?”
I look around us, taking in the handful of people around us.
“Sit wherever you want, love, and I’ll go tell Maggie you’re here.” Gavin’s smile dims when he glances at me, and his eyes narrow in suspicion.
“Thank you.”
Again, I follow Amelie as she leads me to a table close to the bar, right in front of the windows, but she stops midway and reaches behind her to remove her bag.
“Let me, please,” I offer as I take it from her and go back to the bar. “Mind looking after this for us while we have dinner?”
I extend it to him, not missing the light of appreciation in his eyes, as he takes the monstrosity out of my hands.
“No problem, lad.”
“Thanks.”
In a few strides, I’m back with Amelie. Her eyes are wide, shocked, as if she didn’t expect me to take care of it. This girl doesn’t know to ask for help.
When I reach her side, I pull out a chair, waiting patiently for her to sit down. I might not be a real gentleman, but even I grew up getting basic manners drilled into my head, and the number one rule when you’re out with a girl is a simple gesture as this.
The second rule is not to drool.
Third rule: don’t be an arse and occupy ninety percent of the conversation.
While this isn’t a date, I can still act like my mum taught me, so that’s what I’ll do.
