“Sandro! Paul!” She held out her hand and took a few steps to shake each of theirs. “Welcome to the Golden Gate Ballroom!”
Marlene looked at her with a whole new level of respect. She might be in her fifties but the woman sure did enjoy good-looking, younger men.
“This is Marlene, the owner and my boss,” Jenna said.
Much to her relief, Sandro made no cynical comments about the pink walls of the lobby or the giant portraits of the teaching staff that hung on them. Instead a perfectly behaved version of Sandro stepped forward. His relaxed demeanor and warm smile betrayed no sign of the angry anti-dancing man she’d left in Samantha’s kitchen. “Nice to meet you, Marlene.” He shook her hand firmly. “We really appreciate Jenna inviting us to your ballroom. My brother Paul wants to learn to dance and Jenna has been an inspiration for him.”
That was laying the charm on a bit thick. What was he up to?
“We’re happy to have you here, Paul. Welcome. And, Sandro, you’re not signing up for any classes yourself?”
“Well, if anyone could talk me into it, Jenna could.” Sandro’s smile was so sweet that Marlene blushed like a schoolgirl. He wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat, but his faded jeans ended in black cowboy boots and his tight T-shirt advertised the Reno Rodeo. Marlene’s eyes were wide, taking in his tall frame. Who knew the glamorous older dancer had a thing for cowboys?
“We saw her dance the other weekend.” Sandro sent a quick wink Jenna’s way. “I can’t say I’ve ever had much interest in ballroom dance before, but Jenna was something else. She’s a credit to your ballroom.”
Now he was getting carried away. Marlene might enjoy flattery but she also didn’t suffer fools, and Sandro was on his way to being one. Jenna sailed forward and took Paul by one arm, Sandro by the other. “I’m just going to give my new student a tour of the ballroom before class,” she told Marlene. “Excuse me.”
She steered her visitors through the lobby and into the main ballroom. The building had been an old hotel at one point in its past, and the ballroom was a testament to faded glory. Jenna loved the old crystal chandeliers that had shone on generations of dancers. Plaster roses adorned soaring columns around the arched edges, and one wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the room with natural light.
“Great place,” Sandro said, looking down at her with that humorous smile that shook her confidence and made her let go of his arm abruptly.
“It’s awesome!” Paul added. “Can I go look around?”
“Of course,” Jenna told him, and watched him walk across the room to the main teaching area, where the wall was lined with mirrors.
Jenna and Sandro followed, walking more slowly. Jenna looked up at Sandro, unable to resist asking the question foremost in her mind.
“What were you doing back there with Marlene? Your flattery was very nice but not exactly sincere.”
“How do you know it wasn’t sincere? Your dance in the kitchen did make quite an impression.”
“An impression that really upset you!”
“Well, I’ve had some time to think, as you suggested. I’m sorry I was so rude that night.”
“That still doesn’t explain...” Jenna motioned vaguely toward Marlene, who had gone back to staring at the schedule, probably trying to figure out if there were any other of Jenna’s classes she could give to Nicole.
“We’d been standing by the door for a while.” Sandro turned to face her, serious now. “I guess you didn’t hear us come in, but I heard most of what she was saying. I figured she needed a reminder of what you’re worth.”
He could be nice. She’d had no idea. Was this really the same Sandro she’d met in Benson? She had a sudden image of Sandro crossing the Bay Bridge this morning in some old pickup truck, gazing at the fantastic view of the San Francisco skyline as he approached. Could the relaxed attitude that her home city was famous for work its magic so quickly? And now she was the one being rude. “Thank you,” she blurted out. “It’s nice that you tried to help.”
“Seems like I owed you one.”
She made the mistake of looking at his eyes. Dark chocolate, with the bitter and sweet both evident. She couldn’t look away—there was too much regret and warmth holding her there.
Sandro set her free by glancing at his watch, raising one dark brow when he caught sight of the time. “Paul, let’s get you set up in your tutu. I have to get to the cooking school.”
Reality came back into focus. No magic here. She had to stop that kind of wishful thinking. Sandro was merely here to drop his brother off, nothing more.
“Sure,” Jenna agreed, taking a step back from him and forcing her eyes away from the older brother to the younger. “Don’t worry, Paul, we don’t do tutus here.”
Paul hadn’t even heard his brother’s teasing. He was standing in the middle of the dance floor, turning slowly as he took in the grand ballroom. The smile on his face was pure wonder and excitement.
She looked back at Sandro, making sure to avoid his eyes. She looked at the line of his clean-shaven jaw instead. A firm jaw, defined and strong, and she tried to resist when her imagination took hold, conjuring the feel of it under her fingertips. “I can get Paul ready for the class. And I’m sure Marlene will be happy to help with your bill. Actually...” She looked over to where Marlene had abandoned the schedule in favor of leaning on the front desk and peering through the wide ballroom doors to get another look at Sandro. “If you smile at her like you did before, I’m pretty sure she’ll give you guys a full scholarship.”
Sandro glanced toward the desk and Marlene abruptly began studying the schedule again. He grinned, all arrogance, and Jenna could see why he had such legendary success with women.
“Hey, sometimes the cowboy thing opens doors. If it gives me a discount for this insane notion of Paul’s, I won’t complain.”
He turned that same smile on Jenna and she felt its power as her skin warmed. She backed away a few steps to avoid the heat. “I’ll just get Paul started, then. Good luck with your cooking classes. We’ll be done here at five.”
“Jenna, wait.” His voice was soft and he closed the distance between them. He glanced at Paul, suddenly the worried older brother. “Take good care of Paul, okay? This is a totally foreign world for him.”
“I will,” she promised, touched by his concern. “But I don’t think you need to worry. He looks pretty happy so far.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Sandro.” Jenna put her hand on his and instantly regretted it. The strength of him scrambled her thoughts. She pulled her hand back and continued. “It’s going to be okay. You did the right thing for him.”
“I doubt it.” A shadow of emotion crossed his face. “I’m not known for my good judgment, Jenna.” He seemed to catch himself and pushed whatever dark feeling haunted him aside, because the humor came back. His defense, she suddenly realized. “But it’s not like the kid gave me a lot of choice. He hasn’t shut up about taking your classes since you busted some moves in Jack’s kitchen. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Jenna said, ignoring the teasing sarcasm. She nodded to where her other students were starting to file in, dropping their duffel bags by the row of chairs along the wall, some already seated, changing their shoes. “And I’ve got to go bust a few more now.”
“And I’ve got to go tame Marge Simpson at the desk.”
“Be nice!” But she couldn’t help laughing. “I happen to love her hair! And if you say something nice to her about it, I’m sure you’ll make her day.”
“Your faith in me is touching.”
The conversation was obviously over, but Jenna was having a hard time looking away. Sandro’s smile gave warmth to the masculine lines of his face. His eyes lingered on her, too.
Neither of them said anything. Then Sa
ndro seemed to re-collect himself, because he glanced around, breaking whatever strange spell had held them so still. “Thanks again for helping Paul.” He turned to go. “See you later, Jenna.”
“See you,” Jenna somehow managed to mumble. There were ripples of something on the bare skin of her arms. Goose bumps? She’d go get her sweater before class.
Sandro walked toward the lobby, and Jenna watched him go. His cowboy boots clicked on the polished wood floor. With his jeans, tight T-shirt and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, he looked out of place in the ballroom, clearly from another world. Which he was, she reminded herself, turning back toward Paul. But by praising her to Marlene today, he might also have been her guardian angel.
She shot a look over to the row of chairs where the kids were sitting, half expecting her students to be staring at her. How could they not have noticed the way Sandro had left her heart pounding at the thought of seeing him again after class? But the teenagers were oblivious, absorbed in gossip and laughter as they changed.
Only Paul seemed to have noticed. He was standing close by with a grin on his face. “I never thought he’d come around and let me do this, Jenna. Thanks for sticking up for me back in Benson.”
She loved this kid. If his family ended up rejecting him for his dancing, she’d adopt him. He was that cool. She grinned back. “My pleasure. Glad you could come. Was it worth pestering your brother for?”
“It’s awesome.”
And he seemed to mean it. Jenna studied him for a moment. He looked like a young Sandro, with curly dark hair and those same dark eyes. He was going to have the girls in her class vying to be his partner for sure. Just like his older brother had big girls vying for him all the time, she reminded herself, glancing over to where Sandro was leaning on the front desk, talking to Marlene as if she were the only woman in the room. “Well,” she said brightly, “our first class will start in a few minutes. It’s all Latin dances today. Tomorrow is fox-trot and waltz. It’s going to be a lot to learn. Are you ready, Paul?” She glanced down and saw the cowboy boots on his feet. “Oops! Let’s go see if we can find you some shoes.”
Paul flushed and she felt horrible for embarrassing him. “No, Paul, how would you know? And even if you did, where would you shop? Come on. It’ll take no time at all to get you ready.”
She led him over to the small shopping area in one of the alcoves under the old arches to help him pick out his dancing shoes.
CHAPTER SIX
HIS BABY BROTHER was surrounded by girls. Lots of them. They were leaning in to hear whatever joke Paul was telling, nudging each other subtly out of the way to be the one closest, giggling and tossing their hair at him.
For a moment Sandro felt sheer panic. What had he done? All these teenage girls spent so much time dancing that they probably rarely saw a boy. This was a bad idea. They’d boost his ego way too high.
Sandro winced as guilt stabbed at him. He’d wanted to spare his little brother the mistakes he’d made. Instead he’d led him straight into the same type of situation that had been a part of his own downfall. Big fish in a small pond. Inflated ego. So many women interested that he forgot how to respect or value them.
His fists curled and Sandro willed himself to stay calm. He took a few breaths and waited, but the flirting went on and Paul didn’t see him. He couldn’t stand it a second more. He took the first step of a run that was going to end up with him hauling his little brother out of the damn ballroom by the ear and throwing him in the truck bound for Benson. Then he felt a light touch on his arm. Jenna. Looking up at him with those huge blue eyes. Her porcelain skin glowing with exercise and happiness and calm.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“You said you’d take care of him!” It came out as an accusation.
“I have! He had a great day.” Her delicate brows drew together with concern. “What’s bothering you?” She didn’t say it but he could hear the now at the end of her question. She must think he was the most uptight person she’d ever met, but he couldn’t help it. He had to do right by his brother.
“You call this taking care of him? Look at those girls hanging all over him. His ego is expanding as we speak.”
Jenna looked over at Paul. “Really? I don’t see ego. I see a kid who’s happy, who spent the day doing what he loves most. With other kids who love the same thing.”
“Other kids who happen to be girls.”
“It’s dance, Sandro. Face it, most of the people he takes class with will be girls.”
“You don’t get it, do you? This is how it all goes wrong! Thinking he’s got it made. Thinking women come a dime a dozen.”
Jenna turned and looked at him sternly. “Are you sure we’re still talking about Paul?”
Sandro looked out the window of the ballroom at the busy evening street. She’d seen right through him once again. A family walked by on the sidewalk outside—a mother, a father and a couple teenage kids. He wondered, briefly, how they survived being parents. He wasn’t even Paul’s father and he felt sick with worry.
“It’s his first day,” Jenna said, softly now. “Let him enjoy the attention. Class was a challenge for him, since he doesn’t know as much as everyone else yet. Let this moment help him gain his confidence.”
The fear and shame that had coiled inside him started to unwind at the wisdom of her words. She really was like some kind of angel. In her pretty dress, with her hair radiating around her face in waves of red and gold, she reminded him a little of the good witch in the Oz movie. The one who showed up in the bubble. Except Jenna was way hotter.
“You’re right. I just don’t want it to mess him up. I really don’t.” He watched Paul take a girl’s hand. He spun her around once, and she giggled. Sandro cringed.
Jenna remained standing next to him, watching Paul and her other students with a thoughtful look on her face. “What if we all went out for dinner tonight? To celebrate Paul’s first class.”
She turned to face him and for a moment he forgot her question and his worries. Her lipsticked mouth was full, so soft-looking, and serious now. Then she bit her lip and he saw that she was worried by his failure to answer.
“I’d like to, but I’m not sure I feel like celebrating tonight,” he said.
“I can tell.”
Sandro caught her light touch of sarcasm and he realized he’d been a jerk again, blaming her for Paul’s actions.
“But what if I talk to him a bit at dinner?” Jenna continued. “I can make sure he understands what he needs to do if he really wants to become a professional dancer. That he can’t let anything sidetrack him. Even my cute students.”
He’d be an arsonist playing with fire if he spent more time with Jenna. But Sandro also knew there was no way he could handle Paul alone. He’d end up yelling at him and making it worse. And for whatever reason, Jenna calmed him. She helped him move away from his black-and-white way of looking at things and steered him into the much more reasonable gray. “Yes.” It came out almost too firmly. Abrupt. “I’d like that. I’d like your help. I can’t let him dance—and hang out with all these girls—if it’s going to change him.”
“If it makes you feel better, he did really well in class today. He may be playing catch-up with the other students, but I couldn’t believe how fast he picked up the steps. Some of these kids have been dancing for years, with every kind of formal training, and he kept up with them for the most part. Paul’s got a ton of natural talent, Sandro. You did the right thing, bringing him here.”
Sandro looked back at his brother again. “I hope so. I really do.” But he didn’t feel hope. Just doubt and worry.
“So, dinner,” Jenna said brightly, obviously trying to lighten his mood. “Where should we eat?”
He’d promised himself that seeing her at the ballroom would be a dose of reality, a way to forget
about her. Instead he was going to have dinner with her. Maybe the reality was that he couldn’t seem to stay away from her. “I was planning to head to a restaurant in the Mission District,” he told her. “A guy I interned with in Spain opened it. Oliva.”
“Oliva?” Jenna looked stunned. “Did you make reservations? I’ve heard you have to get your name in at least a week in advance.”
“Gavin knows we’re coming. He said to just show up whenever.”
Jenna’s eyes sparkled.
I put that there. I put that look in her eyes. Sandro wished he could see her look that happy every day. What was wrong with him? He gave himself a mental kick. This was about Paul—nothing else.
“I’m so excited to try Oliva!” Jenna exclaimed. “And to have a serious talk with Paul, of course.”
She was teasing him and despite his worry, he liked it. “At least ten minutes of serious talking. Promise?” Sandro asked.
“Promised.”
Her smile was so warm he just wanted to bask in it, like sunlight. Let the rays of her kindness reach into his dark corners.
“I’ve got my bike,” she told him. “So I’ll meet you both there?”
The image of Jenna flying through the streets of San Francisco on a bike went Technicolor in his imagination. He hoped she kept her teaching outfit on. He pictured the fancy dress she was wearing right now pushed over her knees, her high-heeled dancing shoes sparkling on the pedals, her hair streaming like fire behind her. It was a great vision.
“It’s on Twenty-First Street. At Valencia,” Jenna was saying. “Do you need directions?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got the map on my phone, thanks. Is half an hour enough time for you to get there?”
Jenna glanced at the clock on the wall. “Sure.” She flashed him a smile different from her usual wide, warm one. Almost shy. “See you there.” She walked over to the tables by the ballroom entrance and started chatting with parents who were waiting to pick up their kids.
More Than a Rancher Page 7
