“Is there some reason you’re being so secretive about where we’re going? Do I need to be worried?”
Morgan turned his way. “No to both questions.” She hesitated, then said, “We’re going to a local theater. My friend Brooke runs a dance studio, and tonight is the dress rehearsal. The kids are going to be performing for their parents.”
“What kind of classes does she offer?”
“Ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop...a little of everything.”
“Sounds interesting. My niece just mentioned wanting to take a dance class.”
“What kind?”
“I have no idea. We didn’t get that far in the conversation.” Serena had confided in Omar that they couldn’t afford the classes. Omar wanted to tell her that he would pay for it but held back out of respect for his brother. He planned to ask Rashad about it the next time they spoke.
The Essence Theater was only four blocks from the freeway. The brick building looked like a throwback from another era. “Is that your friend’s studio?” He pointed to a modern building across the street from the theater.
“Yes. You can just drop me off in front. I’ll have Brooke bring me back to your house to pick up my car after the show, if you’re okay with her knowing where you live.”
Omar ignored her and parked. He got out, came around to her side and helped her out.
Morgan quickly let go of his hand. “Thanks for the ride.” She stared up at him.
“I’m trying hard to not to break our agreement, but the way you’re looking at me is going to get you kissed.”
She glanced up and down the street. “Well, if we make it quick, nobody will see.” She came up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on his lips. “I gotta go. I’m already late.”
Omar stood there smiling, his gaze following the sweet sway of her hips and the long strides of her shapely legs in the slim skirt as she rushed off. He walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door and then closed it again. Curious, he went to check out the show.
Inside the small theater that looked to hold roughly two hundred people, he saw a couple dozen people seated in the front and Morgan on the stage talking to a slender woman. A few teenagers stood off to the side practicing a dance step. The women left the stage, and he sauntered down the aisle and took an end seat a few rows behind the group of people, grateful he’d had the foresight to change clothes. The audience continued to filter in until about one quarter of the theater was filled. Several minutes later, the lights went down, and the woman he had seen talking to Morgan came out to the center of the stage.
“Good evening and welcome to the show. For those who don’t know me, I’m Brooke Alexander, owner of the Creative Flow Dance Studio, located right across the street. You are in for a real treat. Your children have worked hard and I am very proud of what they’ve accomplished, as I’m sure you will be.”
Omar listened as she thanked the parents and talked about her vision for the coming year. He tuned back in when Morgan, another woman and a man joined Brooke onstage.
“I’d like to take a moment to thank these three special people,” Brooke continued. “Without them, this program wouldn’t be possible.” She introduced the man and woman as teachers of the beginning hip-hop and ballet classes, respectively. She reached for Morgan’s hand. “This lady here is my best friend, my right hand and the one who keeps me sane.” The audience laughed and Morgan smiled. “She also teaches the jazz and advanced hip-hop classes.”
Omar sat up straight. Morgan taught dance. She’d given him the impression that she only helped. Attorney, sports agent and now dance teacher... He didn’t know what to expect next. He had originally planned to stay for one or two dance routines to see if this might be something Brianna would like. However, he had no intensions of leaving until the end. With a smile, Omar made himself comfortable and prepared to enjoy the show.
He found he more than enjoyed the show, especially the Michael Jackson theme. They danced to songs he hadn’t heard since he was a kid and ones his parents used to play. He hummed along and rocked his head to the beat. His niece would definitely thrive in this environment, and he made a mental note to get information on classes from Morgan.
Brooke appeared onstage again and he started to stand, thinking the show had ended.
“Let’s give the students another hand.” She waited until the applause faded. “This year we’ve added a special segment I like to call Instructor Showcase. Dancing to ‘I Can’t Help It,’ I present Morgan Gray.”
Omar froze. The curtain opened, and there Morgan stood posed under a spotlight center stage. The music began and he slowly lowered himself back into the seat, transfixed by her sensual movements. The form-fitting tank top and pants revealed every curve in her toned body. His arousal was immediate. As she continued to execute high kicks, leaps and quick turns, he grew harder and shifted in his seat. By the time the last note faded, he was breathing as if he’d run an eighty-yard touchdown.
He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. He prayed the lights stayed low until he could bring his body under control. The other instructors’ performances were nice, but he could not get the vision of Morgan’s sleek body out of his mind.
By the time the lights came up and all the students and instructors took their final bow, his body was somewhat calmer. Omar rose to his feet with the rest of the audience in a standing ovation. Because of his height, it didn’t take long for Morgan’s stunned gaze to connect with his. His mouth inched up in a smile. The evening was about to get very interesting.
Chapter 10
Morgan almost passed out when she saw Omar in the audience. What was he still doing here? She thought he’d gone home. Oh, God! Did he see me dance?
Brooke bumped her shoulder and whispered, “What is wrong with you?”
She whipped her head around and realized everyone was leaving the stage to greet their family members. “Nothing. I’m fine.” She hazarded a glimpse in Omar’s direction again and found him still smiling.
“You sure? You looked a little freaked out for a minute.”
“Positive.”
“Oo-kay,” Brooke said, seemingly not convinced. “Let’s get these tickets passed out so I can take you back to get your car before it gets too late.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Morgan mumbled, watching as Omar sauntered toward the stage.
“I thought you... Oh my word. Is that Omar Drummond coming this way?”
Still staring in his direction, Morgan answered, “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Seeing him on the TV screen did not come close to doing him justice,” Brooke said in awe. “That man is fine, fine, fine!”
Morgan turned back and waved her hand in front of Brooke’s face. “I thought you wanted to give the parents their tickets.”
“You’re inviting him to the show and reception, right?”
“Ah, I hadn’t planned to. I never actually told him I teach at the studio...or dance.”
Brooke laughed. “Well, that cat is out of the bag. And by the look on his face, I’d say he really enjoyed your dance.”
Morgan skewered her friend with a look.
Brooke just smiled. “I’ll take care of the tickets. You go see about Mr. Drummond.” She narrowed her gaze. “And you’d better not leave without introducing us or I am going to seriously hurt you.”
Morgan shook her head and went to meet Omar.
“Hey. I thought you went home.”
“I was going to stay for only a couple of dances, you know, for my niece, but I got caught up in the show. It was great. And you...you were incredible, amazing. Why didn’t you tell me you were a dancer?”
Still in shock that he’d seen her performance, she ran a shaky hand over her ragged ponytail. “I don’t know. I used to dance in school, but I’m not a
dancer.”
“I like the MJ theme and the song you danced to... I heard and felt everything you were trying to convey. It was as if you were dancing just for me, and I’m right with you, baby.”
Her breath hitched. How had he known? From the first note to the last, he had been running through her mind. And like the lyrics said, she couldn’t help it. “We’re in public,” Morgan reminded him.
Omar leaned down close to her ear. “And that’s the only reason you aren’t naked in my arms, my hand and mouth caressing every part of your body as I take us on a trip to heaven.” He straightened and stepped back.
His hushed promise sent a rush of desire through her. The heat in his magnetic gaze seduced and tempted her to forget all about her request to keep their relationship a secret. “I... It shouldn’t take too long for us to finish up.”
“No rush. I’ll sit here and wait for you.”
Morgan nodded, unable to look away.
“Ms. Gray?”
She spun around at the sound of her name being called, and tried to focus on what the teen was saying. She gave the young woman instructions needed for next week’s schedule, then helped Brooke and the other two instructors, Kay and Roy, make sure the theater was returned to its former state.
Brooke all but rushed Kay and Roy out the door, then dragged Morgan over to where Omar sat waiting.
Omar rose to his feet at their approach.
“Omar, this my friend Brooke Alexander. Brooke, Omar Drummond.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Alexander.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Drummond, and please call me Brooke.”
“Only if you call me Omar. You have some talented students and instructors,” he added, shifting his focus to Morgan.
A rush of heat stung Morgan’s face.
Brook viewed them knowingly. “Thank you. We have a good group of kids. If you’re not busy next Friday, I hope you can join us for the actual performance as well as the reception. It’s a fund-raiser. Morgan can fill you in on the details.”
Morgan wanted to pop her friend.
Omar nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“You’ll need a ticket for both events.” Brooke handed them to him, then said to Morgan, “Since you don’t need a ride, I’m going to head out.”
Morgan noted the amusement on Brooke’s face. “We’re leaving, too.” She retrieved her duffel from the dressing room and followed Omar out to his truck.
“I can’t get over that dance,” Omar said as he drove them back to his place. “You’re a really great dancer. I’m surprised you didn’t pursue that as a career.”
“Thanks, but dancing was just fun for me in school. Brooke, on the other hand, was phenomenal, and a career in dance was a natural transition for her.”
“Has she danced professionally or has she always been a dance teacher?”
“She danced for five years and was amazing onstage.” She listed some of the productions Brooke had starred in during her short career.
“She still dances beautifully.”
“I agree, but after injuries from her car accident, she couldn’t keep up with the rigorous schedule being a dancer requires.”
“Can you get me some information on the classes? I think my niece would love it.”
“How old is she?”
“Brianna is twelve.”
“There are lots of classes for her to choose from. I’ll get a brochure when I’m there next week.”
With less traffic, they made the trip in half the time. “I can have your tire changed in a few minutes,” Omar said after he got out and came around to her side.
Morgan climbed out of the truck, unlocked her car and tossed her bag onto the backseat, then popped the trunk. She could change her own tire—her brothers had taught both her and Siobhan in case of an emergency—but rather than argue with Omar, knowing he wouldn’t let her do it, she just said, “Thanks.” While he worked, she leaned against his truck and studied the way his biceps flexed with each movement. Her palms itched to touch him, to run her hands over every inch of his hard body. His earlier statement came back to her, and her eyes slid closed with the remembrance.
“Morgan?”
She jerked upright. “Huh? What?”
“I called your name three times. Are you okay?” Omar stood from his position near her front tire and closed the distance between them.
“I’m fine. Just a little worn out.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Your tire is fixed. You want me to follow you home?”
“No, that’s not necessary. But I’ll text you when I get home.” Morgan came up on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait to have you to myself. Night, baby.” He held her door open.
“Good night.” She started the car, waved and drove off. The die had been cast, and she just hoped she wouldn’t come to regret this decision later.
* * *
Friday afternoon, Omar placed the last of his clothes and toiletries into the duffel bag and zipped it. His heart pounded with an excitement reminiscent of a child opening gifts on Christmas morning. He didn’t know what excited him more, the certainty that he and Morgan would sleep together this weekend, or the prospect of not having to hide their growing relationship. In the mountains, away from prying eyes, he would be free to act like a man enjoying the company of his lady without worrying about either of their jobs.
After loading the truck, he locked up and headed over to pick up Morgan. When he arrived, she opened the door and gave him a smile that sent a funny feeling throughout his chest.
“Ready to get this party started?” Morgan asked.
“More ready than I’ve been for anything else in a long time.”
“So am I.” With her tone and accompanying look, he heard the message loud and clear.
She reached down for the suitcase handle, and he took the small bag. “I’ll carry this for you.”
She got her purse and laptop, draped a jacket over her arm and followed him out.
Omar placed her bags in the backseat, then waited for her to get in. When she climbed into the cab, he was treated to the amazing view of her shapely backside in a pair of black shorts. He gripped the door to keep from reaching for her. He’d promised not to rush her because he understood she still had some reservations about their relationship. Yet the vibes she’d been giving off said they were on the same page. With any luck, he’d be right.
“Is the traffic bad?” Morgan asked as they pulled out of the complex.
“It’s getting there.” Traffic was already heavy, and he anticipated a long drive ahead of them. “Might take three or four hours to get to the cabin. Did you have any problems leaving early today?”
“No. Just my nosy brother, Brandon, asking where I was going.”
Omar briefly glanced her way. “What did you tell him?”
Morgan turned in her seat to face him. “Just that I was going away for the weekend. I didn’t say who I was going with.” She must have seen his expression because she asked, “Is that a problem?”
“I feel like a fifteen-year-old sneaking out behind my parents’ backs to see the girl I like,” he grumbled. “I never thought I’d have to hide out this way at twenty-eight.”
“As far as my brother is concerned, I don’t want him in my business. It’s only for a short time. I’m not exactly thrilled about it, but I don’t know any other way.”
He covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know and I agree. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you in my life, Morgan.”
Morgan laced their fingers together. “And I’ll do the same.”
They shared a smile, and he refocused his attention on the road, but didn’t let go of her hand. T
hey rode for several miles in companionable silence, with the only sounds coming from soft music flowing through the speakers. The traffic slowed, then came to a stop, and Omar looked over in time to see Morgan covering a yawn. “Tired?”
“A little,” she said, leaning her head back. “I didn’t get a lot sleep, and I went in to work early.”
He hadn’t gotten much sleep, either. Images of that sensual dance played in his head and kept him awake and aroused all night long. “Well, you should have no problems falling asleep tonight, and you can sleep in tomorrow.” If he had his way, they would both get the best sleep of their lives.
It took almost four hours to reach the small town where his cabin was located, and he stopped at the local grocery store first. They were slow to emerge from the truck, and Omar stretched to loosen some of the kinks.
Morgan surveyed her surroundings. “It’s beautiful. This is a nice grocery store.”
“Yeah, and it’s easier to shop here than trying to do it at home and having to worry about ice coolers, storage and such.”
She smiled. “Ooh, you’re going to cook for me again? The chili and cornbread were so good.”
He slanted her an amused look, leaned against the truck and folded his arms. “No, we are going to cook.”
“Hey, you’re the resident cook with the family who owns a restaurant. And you never said what kind.”
“It’s a family-style restaurant—comfort foods, everybody knows everybody...like a throwback to one of those joints in the South. It’s in Buena Park. We can go whenever you want.”
“Are ribs on the menu?”
Omar grinned. “Fall off the bone and make you slap your mama good.”
Morgan posed thoughtfully. “Hmm, I might have to break my waiting period.”
Places in My Heart Page 10
