by Payton Lane
“She bailed on you,” Drew said not bothering to pull the sucker punch.
Those words hit and he took another step back. “Get to the point or I might punch you.”
“And that's it. You're not that guy. But you're taking this shit like you are. The Greg that I know is straight-forward. He would have gone to Yvonne's shop with flowers or some other sappy crap and asked her out. I would have made fun of you for it, but you wouldn't care. You say what you mean and mean what you say.”
Abigail had told him there was no spark, no there, there in their relationship. He wasn't just a good guy but the perfect guy—the one every woman should fall for. There was nothing wrong with him but deep in her gut she felt, knew he wasn't the one for her.
How in the fuck could he fix that? How could he know the next woman wouldn't feel the same. Sex was easier. Emotional crap was where he had doubts, questions. He was supposed to move on. He was supposed to not care. But he'd gotten down on one knee and asked a woman to take his last name, to be his forever. And gotten his teeth kicked in. How could that not screw with his head?
Greg sucked in air, held it and blew it back out. “All I know is that I want her more than anything right now.”
Drew let out a laugh that sounded really bitter. “She's the one thing you can't have.” His cousin muttered the next so low, Greg had to strain to hear him, “Yeah. I know that feeling.”
Greg shook his head. “Let's go in. If she's not there, then I'll go back to my old self.”
But you can't a small voice whispered in his head.
Drew frowned at him. “So it's not just sex?”
He shrugged in reply. “It is what it will be.”
“Stop being philosophical. You know that confuses me.”
Greg laughed. The man was his best friend and he knew him better than most. Drew was more in tune to the world and himself than he’d admit. “Shut up and move.”
Drew put up his hands and stepped aside. “If she's not here, I'm driving you to her store. I have better things to do with my life than driving around town looking for a woman I'm not even going to sleep with.”
Greg paused with his hand on the door. “You came with me just to be the peanut gallery.”
“True, but still. It stopped being amusing two stops ago.”
“And yet that hasn't stopped you from putting down the groundwork to sleep with any of the dancers we've met.”
Drew smirked. “I like to multitask.”
Greg stepped inside the dance studio. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he didn't see her. Women filled the studio. Some chatted, some were stretching but they all wore stockings and what he imagined was ballerina workout gear—long loose shirts, hair buns and pink flat shoes.
Many gave them sidelong glances as they settled into the chairs on the opposite side of the wooden bar and mirror. None approached them or got on their phones to call the police or protective husbands. He took that as a good sign.
Eventually Drew's smile enticed a few to come over and ask questions, flirt and other things Greg didn't pay too much mind to. He was too busy watching the door. The class started in thirty minutes and that meant there was still time for Yvonne to show up.
Drew whispered, “This is the right place.”
He dragged his attention away from the door for only a second. “What?”
“While you were sitting there daydreaming about her and ignoring me, I actually asked someone.”
Greg straightened in his chair. “Was this before or after you asked this woman out for drinks?”
Drew looked at him like he was dumb. “Before.”
He opened his mouth to reply when the studio door opened. Yvonne wore a long shirt, one sleeve hung lower on her shoulder. The gray shirt had worn edges and she'd topped it off with black tights and running shoes. She also wore her hair in a bun. Yvonne should have looked like the rest of the women in the class, but to him she was beautiful. He could feel the stares on them. By now all the women would know why he was here.
Yvonne frowned and then let her gaze scan the room. When she got to him, her smile said, “The things I'm going to do to you later.”
He approved of the smile so he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Good to see you.”
She slipped her gym bag off her shoulder, walking toward him. “How many places did you get kicked out of for looking like a creeper?”
He gestured his thumb toward his cousin. “That's why he's here.”
“Drew, I assume. The charmer.” She offered her hand. His cousin took it, his expression unreadable.
“Nice to finally meet you.”
Her gaze drifted back to Greg's. “Do you often take your cousin when you're hunting down women?”
He had for many years. Not exactly something he was proud of. “Figured he could smooth over any ruffled feathers.”
She lifted a brow. “Safe answer.”
“True answer,” he threw back.
She glanced at Drew and then shook her head. “You could have just come to the shop.”
“Yeah.”
She bit her lip. “Well, settle in. Class is about an hour long. By the end of it, I'll be sweaty and gross. You can ask me out for a drink and pretend you don't find the sight of me drenched in sweat unappealing.”
He let his gaze roam from her breasts to her legs. Those tights left almost nothing to the imagination. Her ass was firm but he had no doubt it would be as soft as her breasts. So Yvonne drenched in sweat...yeah. “Not likely.”
Her eyes widened. “Well...” she sounded breathless and then turned to move to the rest of the dancers.
Drew whistled. “You just eye-fucked the dog shit out of her. I think my work here is done, because you're probably going to do it the entire hour.”
Greg snorted and clasped his hands behind his head to settle in for the show. “Probably. Catch up with you later?”
“I know that look. I will see you in about a month.”
He gave his cousin a sharp look. “What?”
“Nothing. Happy hunting.”
He frowned at his cousin's back and then let his attention stray to Yvonne. She'd taken off her shirt and wore a glorified sports bra. That left her stomach bare. Her brown skin almost looked golden under the florescent lights. She was fit and lush and in a glorified sports bra.
The next hour was going to be pure torture. He shifted in the chair to get more comfortable and waited for the torment to begin.
*****
To Yvonne's surprise, her friend Jessica waited five full minutes before she moved next to her on the barre. Her friend had actually given her time to put on her pointe shoes sans an interrogation.
Jessica's dark locks were pinned into a sloppy bun. Sweat or no sweat, she wore waterproof mascara and a touch of lipstick. The former gave her brown eyes a doe-like quality. The rich plum shade of lipstick only highlighted her dark-toned skin.
“So who’s this tall, dark and handsome stranger?” The words were clipped and as always Jessica's voice sounded husky.
A client, Yvonne started to reply but he was more than that by now. “A man who kissed my lips off yesterday.” Yvonne grinned when Jessica lost her balance.
She continued to stretch and gave her friend time to come up with a suitable reply. “Okay,” Jessica said. “So why is this the first time I'm hearing about him?”
“I've been busy. We just met. Take your pick.”
“What's wrong with him? If he was a good prospect, you'd have called me right away.”
He was broken and she didn't try to fix men. She also didn't believe a man would somehow magically change because of love. Never had. What she got is what she had, and pretty much she would have to make peace with the man as is or walk.
Yvonne had never reached that “make peace” part of the theory. “Does it matter? We're going to have fun with each other.”
Jessica narrowed her eyes. “Are these lies that you're telling yourself? You never bring a man
to class.”
“I didn't bring him. Technically.”
“What does that even mean?”
She gave her friend the short version. By the end of it, they'd run through their leg stretches. Jessica said, “Either that was one hell of a kiss or he's stalked women before.”
Yvonne shook her head. “He's a financial analyst. He's a gambler at heart. He couldn't turn away from a challenge.”
“Don't they just look at numbers and give advice?”
“He looked at the risks—me. Considered his odds. Made a choice.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“It is, because I'm not a sure thing or a safe bet. And still, where is he? How is he looking at me?”
Jessica had no chill. She looked right at him, held his gaze for five seconds and then said, “Like he's going to flip you onto his bed and do things you can't repeat without getting flustered.”
Yvonne's smile was slow but no less bright. “Exactly.”
She whistled and shook her head. “You're playing with fire.”
She'd definitely thought about that the past few nights. At some point she’d had to kick off her covers because she was too hot at the truth of that. “Maybe.”
Surprise laced her friend's voice, “You don't sound scared.”
That in and of itself should have put a sliver of fear in her heart. She was being foolhardy. She let herself watch him out of the corner of her eye. Looking at him directly, especially the way his gaze was just gobbling her up, would force her to grab the barre for support. “He's not a safe bet, but he's safe.”
Her friend's brows went up and she wore an are-you-crazy expression. “You know this how?”
The question not the look, gave her pause. “You know I'm not touchy-feely.”
Jessica's eyes widened. “I'm shocked you're even using that word.”
“Right? But I just know.”
Jessica stared at her without blinking for a few seconds. “Tell me about the kiss again because I think it's broken your brain.”
“Probably,” she agreed then a bubble of laughter rolled from her gut.
They moved out onto the floor, spread out for the routine. And she could feel Greg's gaze only on her. Had she danced for anyone she dated in the past five years? No. Ballet was still her first true love. She had fun with it now, but for a long time she could only be intense about ballet.
It wasn't for wussies or complainers. It wasn't always kind to women of color. To women, period, even though they made up more than seventy-five percent of working dancers. Dance was a part of herself she didn't normally share with someone who couldn't understand. So maybe that's why she felt safe with him. He hadn't looked in coffee shops for her. He hadn't gone to auction houses where she could buy jewelry or to estate sales. He'd found her in a ballet studio.
Her stomach fluttered and she had to suck in a big breath to get back into ready-mode. But then she found his gaze. He watched her but she had no doubt he could see her. After class, she'd find out exactly what that image of her was.
*****
A little less than an hour later Yvonne ran up to Greg and pulled him out of the chair without fanfare. “If you're smart, you won't ask questions. You'll keep moving.”
Greg had watched her chatting with another woman during the whole class. The moment the woman had been pulled into a different conversation, Yvonne had made her escape. The grip she had on his arm told him all he needed to know.
Amused, he smiled down at her. “You don't want me to be interrogated by your friend?”
Yvonne paused only for a moment before pushing the door open. “What do you mean?”
If nothing else, he'd learned about women and their friends from Abigail. She had two best friends who had no shame about interfering or being nosy. “I'm going to guess the woman you were standing next to during the entire class grilled you about me. The way she cut a few glances my way, she had plans to ask my intentions, my bank account balance and my views on controversial political subjects to gauge the kind of man I am.”
“Are you saying you want me to unleash her on you?”
Being hazed by a woman's friend was relationship...shit. “I have Thai food in mind.”
She didn't miss a step and guided him toward a Prius parked at a meter. “Move faster.”
“It's down the street. No need for cars.”
“Lead the way. I'm starving and need carbs.”
As predicated she was sweaty. A few strands of hair had escaped her bun. There was an extra pep in her step and her smile was like sunshine.
He tilted his head. “You really miss dancing, don't you?”
“I miss dancing. I don't miss the rest. I get to eat. Up until I decided to retire, I was underweight, especially for my height. Depending on the costume, I'd have to bind my breasts.”
Of course his gaze went down to her chest. That was a shame. “Then why did you do it for so long?”
“It was a trade-off to do something I loved.”
Like she'd said to him, “Sounds fun.”
She squeezed his arm. “Why is it we only remember the bitter part sometimes?”
“Lasting effect.” He turned the corner and stopped at the Thai restaurant's entrance.
She tsked at him, not moving toward the door. “You're supposed to tell me an unrelated story.”
She'd lifted her chin and the way the light from the Thai place fell over her face, her lips were like a siren's call. He had to ball his hands to keep from grabbing her face and kissing her hard. “I'm not good at them. Plus, my life is pretty boring.”
“Boring?” she pushed.
“My parents are happily married. I only remember one ugly fight they had in front of me. Can't even remember what it was about. I grew up really close with my cousin. I wasn't always a gentleman. He usually got more flak for it. For me, I was just a boy being a boy.” He went silent, not wanting to talk about the one thing that could actually make him interesting.
She bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. “Then this might be our one and only date if that's all the trauma you have. I mean, are you going to talk to me about my financial options? Ways to better leverage my business contacts?” She cringed.
He snorted. “I'll come up with something. Maybe rush week at college. I made an ass of myself.” He couldn't take it anymore. He'd tried to ignore the way the shirt clung to her wet skin, but he couldn't. Glancing down, he groaned softly. “Yvonne, I don't think you know just how appealing you are.”
She dropped her gaze and shifted. “When I see the way you look at me, I know.”
The moment she spoke the words his veins felt like they were on fire. His heart was beating too hard and too fast for any other reaction. His voice came out gruff and thick, “No one has told you before?”
“Yes and no. No one has ever told me without speaking a single word.”
He placed his finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “That's a shame.”
“Maybe, but I think that just made me who I am.”
He tried to think of the right words that wouldn't make him sound like an ass. “For an hour, I watched the way you danced. It was no different than watching you move across a room. Every step is sure, graceful. It's not conscious. And after seeing you practice, I know how much work you must have put in, but you make it appear easy.”
She blinked rapidly and turned to face the door. “Greg, I'm starving. Let's eat.”
He didn't say anything more, just placed his hands on her shoulders as she led them into the restaurant. For the next two hours they traded stories. They ate. They had the waitress interrupting them every twenty minutes because it seemed like they had made a home in their seats.
It was the best two hours he'd had with a woman in a long time. Maybe even ever. Greg didn't know how to process that, so he didn't. Refused to. That's what had gotten him in trouble the last time.
CHATER FIVE
“You've known him for two weeks and he's coming to your
house?” Jessica asked, the disbelief clear in every word.
Yvonne adjusted the phone so she could fluff her couch pillows. A ridiculous thing to do. What man looked at couch pillows and thought, “those really look flat. She should fluff them.” None. Not a one. But it was the principle of the matter.
“I made some steaks, mash potatoes, gravy, greens and cornbread. The worst single-person food to make ever. I’ll have leftovers for months.”
Her friend was silent. Yvonne could only frown at the third pillow. Okay, she may have hugged that pillow when watching scary movies. Maybe slept on it one too many times when she was too lazy to go to bed. And why did she have to pick a floral pattern? Yes, the forest green shade was dark enough to hide the the golden flowers, but still...
Why did she pick this couch? Hell, her apartment that was on the second floor. Spring was perfect but come summer in California she'd spend more time at her shop so she could breathe when the day's heat became unmanageable. Dense lace curtains or not, second floor apartments were the worst in the summer.
Jessica said, “I don't even think you're listening to me.”
Yvonne was glad her friend couldn't see the wince. “Of course, I am. You think I'm nesting with a man who doesn't want to nest with me. I've known him such a short time. He's too wily. He's on the rebound. He's...”
Thoughtful, kind and funny. Every night they'd gone on a date he'd made her knees give out.
Her friend finished the thought. “He's going to break your heart and you know it. You're running headlong into this without one damn care. But after he breaks your heart, I'll be the one holding your hair back the night we get drunk.”
“Even with the best conditioners in the world, my hair isn't that moveable. No need to hold my hair.”
Sounding exasperated, Jessica said, “You know what I mean.”
Of course she did, but the thought that Greg was on his way to her house had her stomach all fluttery. They'd eaten at almost every restaurant near her shop and pretty much didn't get a warm welcome anymore. They'd stay well after their food was done just to talk and laugh.
Yvonne tried to defend herself. “We're not...that's not what we're doing.”
