by Alexis Daria
His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “Thank you.”
“By the way, I think I love you,” she whispered in his ear.
He stilled. “Do you mean that?”
“I said, ‘I think.’”
With a growl, he scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom. “I’ll have to convince you, then, until there isn’t even a shadow of a doubt.”
She laced her fingers behind his neck. “I look forward to it.” She pulled back as something new occurred to her. “But what are you going to do while I’m traveling for work?”
“I signed with your agent. I’m, um, going to book modeling gigs wherever you’re stationed.” He set her on the edge of her bed and sat beside her.
She frowned, studying his expression. His cheeks were still red, but he wore a pleased expression. “Are you going to be happy doing that? You said you used to be an engineer.”
He ducked his head. “Something changed in me during The Dance Off. I realized it during that Boylesque number, which was all for you, by the way.”
“Mmm, I could tell.” She closed her eyes, picturing him in nothing but shiny gold undies. “What changed?”
“I liked it. I don’t have to be the strong, silent one anymore. I’m okay with being seen. And anyway, it’s easier for me to express myself physically, and I think I’ll be good at it.”
“You’re going to be an amazing model. Besides, you work hard for this body, so you might as well show it off.” After sweeping him with an appreciative glance, she returned to the topic at hand, needing to be sure. “But you were so set on going back to Alaska, and now you’ve turned your entire life upside down to be with me. I just want you to be happy, Stone.”
“I am.” He gave her a light kiss. “I’m happy being with you. I went back and realized my image of Alaska wasn’t real. I was fooling myself. And engineering was just something interesting that I was good at—I like knowing how things work. Really, I just want to be where you are. So, that’s what I’ll do. We’ll go everywhere. New York City, Alaska, Los Angeles. We’ll have it all.”
“We already have it all.” She hugged him tight. How the hell had she gotten so lucky? “And we’ll have even more together than we could ever have alone. I’m so happy to be not-alone with you.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Kiss me.”
He did.
EPILOGUE
Gina checked the pasteles boiling in the pot on the stove. The new house’s freezer was stocked with the platano leaf-wrapped bundles of mashed malanga, calabaza, and green bananas, seasoned with a boatload of spices and made by hand in Benita’s kitchen. Gina had asked her mother and sister to help her make them specifically to bring to the Alaska house,
Stone, as it turned out, had a taste for Puerto Rican cooking. He’d helped, too, sitting with Araceli’s kids to wrap the pasteles in a water-tight pattern.
Gina turned away from the stove. “It finally smells like home in here, instead of paint and new wood.”
“Watched pasteles don’t cook.” Stone took her by the hand and led her into their living room. He sat on the sofa and pulled her into his lap, tucking his face into her neck for a long sniff. “Besides, home to me smells like coconut and hibiscus flowers.”
She snuggled against him. “I wasn’t going to leave my shampoo behind.”
He rubbed his nose in her hair. “I like it. You’re the only tropical flower in Alaska, and you’re all mine.” Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. “It’s a good thing you didn’t pop those in the pot while my family was here. They never would have left.”
“They had to. They’re shooting tomorrow.” Stone’s family had gotten a new show where they taught survival techniques to regular people. Stone wasn’t on it, and neither were Raven and Winter. They’d gone off to college in Seattle.
“Trust me, they would have stuck around for food.”
Gina rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat. “Today was fun.”
“I’m a little worried by how good you are at shooting a gun.”
She snorted. “Don’t worry. I’ll never turn it on you. Hunting isn’t for me.”
“Thank goodness.” He was quiet for a moment. “Is it terrible that I’m glad you’re taking off this season of The Dance Off?”
“No, it’s not terrible. But why are you glad?”
“Because I know how much time goes into it, and I’m selfish.” He squeezed her. “I want to spend more time with you.”
“Being in a Broadway show takes up tons of time, too.”
“I know, but I’ve met your costars, and they’re all afraid of me. How do I know The Dance Off won’t give you some strapping young man—”
“You mean how they gave me you?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“They did that because I was single. They know I’m not single now. Everyone knows I’m not single now.”
“Pop tried to pitch me the idea of us doing a reality show about living together.” Stone rolled his eyes upward. “I told him I’d think about it, but if he ever brings it up to you, the answer is no. I’m sick of cameras watching our every move.”
“At least there are no paparazzi in Alaska.”
“Why do you think I like it here so much?”
“Ha.” She hugged him and stayed quiet, listening to the sounds of the wind outside the house they’d built themselves—with the help of the other Nielsons—the water bubbling on the stove, and the fire crackling in the hearth facing the sofa. The aroma of peppers and onions mixed with the smoky, earthy scent of the burning firewood—Stone would know what type of wood it was, and maybe one day, she would, too—but underlying it all was the scent of pine and fresh air.
The new scent of home.
The warmth of his body enveloped her, and the fabric of his gray Henley was soft under her cheek. Bronx Girl was a success, and Gina’s contract had been extended. Her understudy was handling the role now, so Gina could spend time in Alaska organizing the house before winter set in. Stone warned her it arrived early. They’d head back to New York in a few days, so Gina could go back to playing Meli on stage—still a dream come true, and she loved every minute of it—and so Stone could walk the runways for Fall Fashion Week. As it turned out, all the dancing had made him a stunner on the catwalk, and he said it was easier and more lucrative than engineering.
“I love you,” she murmured into his chest.
“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” He shifted her back so he could look her in the eye. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
She scowled at him. “Stop making such a big deal about it.”
“No, I’m going to make a very big deal about this. My girlfriend has finally stopped qualifying the L word with ‘I think.’ I’m going to take out an ad in the goddamn New York Times.”
She flicked a finger against his rock hard pecs. “Oh, stop it.”
“Nope.” He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her slowly, until her body heated from more than the crackling fire. “You love me. I’m going to remember this day for the rest of my life.”
“Just remember who we have to thank.” She cut her eyes to the gaudy glitter-and-rhinestone-encrusted trophy resting on the center of the mantle, glowing golden in the light of the fire and the rays of the setting sun streaming through the big windows behind them.
Stone raised an imaginary glass in a toast to the trophy. “Fucking Donna.”
Gina laughed and lifted her hand to toast as well. “Indeed. Cheers to you, Fucking Donna.”
They clinked their imaginary glasses, pretended to sip, and then proceeded to break in the new sofa.
They almost forgot about the pasteles.
Acknowledgments
Art doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It takes a village to create a book, and I’m lucky to be surrounded by strong communities who provide genuine support and encouragement. This is my first book and I’ve got a lot of people to thank, so get ready for a
n avalanche of appreciation!
Let’s start with the newest members of my team, who have put a ton of work into getting the Dance Off books out this year.
My stellar agent, Sarah E. Younger, who checks all the boxes on my agent wishlist and then some. I’m so glad I tracked you down at that Harry Potter party.
My team at SMP Swerve: Holly Ingraham, Lizzie Poteet, Jennie Conway, Kerri Resnick, Titi Oluwo, Marissa Sangiacomo—thank you all for supporting me through a season of deadlines and learning curves, and for believing in these characters, their world, and their love.
I’ve been writing stories for what feels like forever, but the reason I haven’t given up is 100 percent because of the amazing writing communities I’m part of. Without them, I wouldn’t have gotten to this point. So, here’s more thanks and shout-outs, in no particular order.
The NOLA Stars RWA chapter, including the coordinators and first-round judges of the Suzannah Contest, who were instrumental in kickstarting my publishing journey.
The Romance Writers of America and my local chapter, RWA-NYC. Our monthly meetings give me life, especially the “after-meetings” with Kate McMurray, Stacey Agdern, and LaQuette.
Lady Jane’s Salon, an incredible and important hub for the romance community in NYC, run by Leanna Renee Hieber, Hope Tarr, and Ron Hogan. Thanks for letting me grace the stage.
My Rebelles, the 2017 Golden Heart® finalists—I’m so grateful you all came into my life this year. I couldn’t have gotten through these deadlines without you all. Special thanks to Sarah Morgenthaler for providing an extra pair of eyes at the end.
My talented friends who provided last minute help fact-checking details about seaplanes, dancing, auditions, and spray-tanning: David Nierenberg, Elizabeth Mahon, Sarah Daniels, and Fallon DeMornay. Any mistakes are my bad, not theirs. They’re perfect. And thanks to my mom for double-checking the Spanish phrases in the book.
The NYC NaNoWriMo community and the critique group it spawned—thank you for the uplifting creative energy that has kept me writing all these years, and the feedback on the earliest pages of Take the Lead, back when it had a different title. (And for years of feedback on other projects. You’re all awesome.)
Big hugs to Clarice, Marsha, Jeanine, Andre, Kyrk, and Tamsin for checking in on me when I was quiet for too long, and for being my cheerleaders.
All the heart-eyes emojis to Shanise for texting me adorable videos of my goddaughter at the moments when I most needed a smile.
My cousins Kathryn and Lisa for their unwavering belief in me.
Romance Twitter, especially Sasha Devlin, who gave me the idea to mash together some plot bunnies, and Sarah MacLean, for listening and offering advice.
The #RWchat community—believe me when I say I am so, so happy you all exist and make the group what it is.
Okay, now for the big ones.
Team #RWchat—Robin Lovett, Kimberly Bell, CL Polk—appeared when I was looking for a critique group who knew my books—and me—almost as well as I did. Their presence in my life is more than I could have ever hoped for.
My boyfriend, who has supported me through the ups and downs of being a creative for half my life, and who gets it because he’s an artist, too.
His parents, who have always nurtured my creative endeavors in any way they can.
And my parents, for instilling in me an early love of reading, writing, art, film, comics, and all things creative. Thanks for rarely telling me to put down the book or turn off the TV.
About the Author
Alexis Daria is a romance writer, artist, and native New Yorker. She co-hosts #RWchat, a weekly Twitter chat for romance writers, and is a member of the New York City chapter of RWA. Take the Lead was a 2017 Golden Heart® finalist and 2016 Suzannah Grand Prize winner. You can find Alexis on Twitter at @alexisdaria, live-tweeting Dancing with the Stars, Game of Thrones, and RuPaul’s Drag Race.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
TAKE THE LEAD. Copyright © 2017 by Alexis Daria. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Crystal Ben
Cover photographs: man © Halay Alex/Shutterstock.com; woman © coka/Shutterstock.com; smoke © Audy39/Shutterstock.com
ISBN 978-1-250-17558-8 (ebook)
First Edition: October 2017
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