Before I Do Amazon

by Freethy, Barbara

  "So I'm not as bad as a ten-year-old."

  "No. You just need to relax and stop fighting yourself."

  "Easier said than done. Do you want something to drink before we start?"

  "No, I'm fine." She looked around the room. "I'm happy with the hardwood floors, but do you mind if I move some furniture around?"

  "Not at all." He spent the next ten minutes pushing the couches against the wall and opening up some floor space.

  "Now, the music," Isabella said. "I'm guessing you have some type of speaker system built in that I can plug my music into?"

  He took the player out of her hand and popped it into the dock on the shelf. Within seconds, the room was filled with a sensual beat.

  "So, do we start where we left off?" he asked.

  "Actually, I just want you to listen to the music for a few moments. Don't think about it. Don't visualize steps in your head. Just let yourself feel it." She put her hand on his chest. "In here. In your heart."

  He could feel the warmth of her hand through the thin dress shirt he wore, and it took a great deal of willpower not to cover her hand with his and hold her there for as long as he could. But Isabella was already moving away.

  She closed her eyes, and as the strains of Latin music began to escalate, a dreamy expression came over her face. He knew he was supposed to be hearing the music, but he was more fascinated with her face, with the way her body swayed to the music in gentle seduction. He wanted to reach for her—not to dance, but to pull her close. Beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. Damn, he was starting to sweat, and he hadn't moved one inch.

  Isabella opened her eyes and looked at him. "Nick?"

  There was a question in her voice, one he couldn't begin to answer.

  "Are you ready to dance now?" She extended her hand.

  He was more than ready to take her hand. It was just too bad a dance had to follow, but he couldn't say no to anything that got his hands on her body.

  He moved into the position she'd taught him the night before. His first steps were a stumbling mess, but her patience got him over the initial hurdles. As she moved with him and against him, their legs tangled together. Her breasts brushed his chest. Her fingers tightened around his. And when the music stopped, he found himself lost in her dark brown eyes. She stared back at him, her breath coming a little too fast.

  He didn't know which one of them moved first.

  But suddenly he was holding her the way he wanted to, kissing her the way he'd dreamed, and she was kissing him back with the same passionate intensity she'd brought to the dance. Searing heat enveloped them. Each taste propelled him back for another and another. He wanted her closer, wanted to feel her flesh beneath his fingers, to make her feel what he was feeling—an unexpected, shocking, overwhelming wave of need.

  "Wait, stop," Isabella said breathlessly, breaking away from his kiss.

  He stared at her in bemusement, seeing the desire in her eyes, the softness in her lips. "Really?"

  She hesitated, then nodded and took herself out of his embrace. "We can't do this. It's not good."

  "I thought it was very good," he returned, feeling a chill run through him now that she'd left his arms.

  "It was, but…you know what I mean. I'm you're teacher."

  "So what? I'm not a kid. We're not breaking any laws."

  "It's unprofessional. You hired me to do a job, and I let myself get carried away in the moment. That's a bad habit I really need to break. I'm sorry."

  The last thing he wanted from her was an apology. He drew in a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "If you're apologizing, then I should do the same, but I'm not really sorry."

  She licked her lips and his body tightened again.

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  "I wouldn't mind having that drink you offered before," she said finally.

  He could definitely use a drink. Maybe not alcohol, though. Ice water would be a better choice. "Sure," he said. "Let's go into the kitchen."

  She gave him a relieved smile as they headed down the hallway. He told himself that he should be happy she'd stopped them from going any further, because now that he wasn't caught up in the damned dance, he was starting to think again.

  Getting involved with Isabella would only add another complication to his life, and he didn't need that, not now, not with so much on the line. He needed her to teach him the tango. He didn't have time to start over with someone else. He just had to focus on the business part of their arrangement and nothing else.

  When they entered the gourmet kitchen, he moved toward the large refrigerator and asked, "What would you like?"

  "What do you have?"

  "Probably anything you could want," he said as he opened the door. "My housekeeper keeps the kitchen well stocked."

  Isabella came up next to him and viewed the organized shelves. "You do have everything. Impressive. I'll just take a bottled water."

  "You got it." He pulled out two waters and handed her one.

  She slid onto the stool at the oversized island while he leaned against the opposing counter, making sure there was a good five feet between them.

  "Does your housekeeper live in?" Isabella asked.

  "No, she lives with her husband a few miles from here. She works nine-to-five, give or take a few hours here and there. She manages the household staff."

  "You have a staff, too?"

  He shrugged. "A gardener, a cleaning service, occasionally a chef or a caterer if I'm hosting a dinner."

  "You live a good life."

  "I've worked hard to get it." He didn't know why he added that statement except that for some reason he didn't want Isabella to see him as someone who'd been given anything. He'd earned his way to this lifestyle, something his father had not thought he could do. And he was proud of what he'd accomplished.

  "How did you get started in the hotel business?" she asked.

  "That's a long story," he replied quickly. "Let's talk about your business instead. What happened at your studio today?

  "A water pipe broke and damaged the studios. We had to temporarily shut down the school."

  "Sounds like a mess."

  She nodded. "At the worst possible time."

  "Because your aunt wants to sell."

  "Yes. When she saw the damage, I could see her face pale and her shoulders literally sag under the weight of this new problem. I tried to talk to her about repairs and insurance, and she just said she needed to think about what she wanted to do."

  "Her buyer may withdraw his or her interest if the studio repairs are extensive."

  "Which might be good for me. I will have more time to figure out a way to raise cash to buy my aunt out. On the other hand, it's going to make all of our lives more difficult, including my aunt's, and I really don't want her to be burdened when she so obviously wants out." Isabella let out a sigh. "Anyway, it's a setback. But I will find a way to make things work."

  He liked that she wasn't whining or crying about her bad luck. Instead, there was a determined light in her eyes that told him she wasn't going down without a fight. "Can you find some other space to hold your classes in until your studio floors are repaired?"

  "I've been looking into that." She paused, licking her lips. "Actually, I had an idea on my way over here tonight."

  By the look in her eyes, he was sure he was not going to like her idea. "What's that?" he asked warily.

  "You own the Grand View Towers, right? And that hotel has a ballroom that could be divided into smaller rooms, maybe with moveable dance floors brought in?"

  "I see where you're going with this. You want me to rent you some space?"

  "Do you have any available?"

  "I don’t actually know the answer to that question. I'd have to check with the manager. The hotel ballroom is quite busy in the spring with wedding receptions."

  "Which probably usually happen on the weekends," she said hopefully. "I know it's a huge thing to ask. We don't even know
each other, and I'm probably way out of line, but I'm desperate. Would you consider checking to see if you have any space that we might be able to rent at a really good price?"

  "Would that price be free?" he asked dryly.

  "Only if you insisted," she said.

  He smiled. "You're a better negotiator than I would have thought."

  "It doesn't have to be free, but it would have to be cheap. What do you say?"

  The idea of dance students trekking in and out of his five-star hotel was not that appealing, but he didn't want to dim the light in her eyes. It seemed cruel, which was an unusual thought for him. He was very good at keeping emotions out of his business operations. "I'll check with the manager and see what I have available. No guarantees."

  "I understand. Thank you. It's not just about the money I'll be losing by shutting down the school. I hate to disappoint the students."

  "You think they would be that sad to miss a few classes?"

  "Most of my students really want to learn to dance, so yes. In addition to adult classes, I also teach a lot of kids, and we have a junior dance competition team that needs to practice every day."

  "I didn't realize." Her business was a lot bigger than he'd thought. Actually, he hadn't given it much thought at all. He'd been focused only on what he needed to get from the school, from Isabella.

  Isabella set down her empty water bottle. "Shall we get back to our lesson?"

  The idea of taking her in his arms again was more than a little appealing. But he didn't want to dance with her; he wanted to go to bed with her. Being alone with her was only fueling the fire behind that desire. "I think we've done enough for now."

  "We've barely done anything," she countered.

  "I'll pay you for the full session."

  "I'm not worried about that. I'm concerned about the time we have for you to learn this dance. Just a little over a week, right? I think we should keep going. I promise to keep things professional."

  That was unfortunately the last promise he wanted her to make.

  "Fine," he said, knowing she was right about the time constraints.

  "Good. You can do this, Nick. You're a little hard on yourself and too impatient. Some things take time to learn, to master. I'm sure you're used to instant success, but I've seen students far worse than you become excellent dancers."

  "Far worse?" he challenged.

  She tipped her head. "Okay, a little bit worse. But I believe in you."

  Her sparkling brown eyes and the conviction in her voice warmed him in ways he couldn't even begin to admit. It had been a very long time since anyone had told him they believed in him. He'd chased that kind of approval for too long, and it had never come. He'd thought he didn't care anymore, but strangely he did.

  "Nick?" she queried. "Did I say something wrong?"

  "No," he said quietly. "You said it exactly right. You're a good motivator, Isabella."

  "I wasn't trying to sell you, Nick."

  "Either way, it looks like we're going to keep dancing. That's what you wanted."

  "And what you want, too," she reminded him.

  As they returned to the living room, he wondered why what he wanted wasn't as clear as it used to be.

  Chapter Five

  Isabella woke up Saturday morning to the ringing of her cell phone. Blinking her sleepy eyes open, she grabbed it off the end table and said, "Hello?"

  "If you want to see the available rooms I have at the hotel, I can meet you there this morning," Nick said shortly.

  She sat up in bed. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm at the Grand View Towers, my hotel on California—the one with a ballroom that might work for your dance classes."

  "Of course. Sorry." She glanced over at the clock. "It's only seven-thirty."

  "Did I wake you?"

  "Yes, because it's Saturday, and it's only seven-thirty."

  "I've been at work for over an hour."

  "On Saturday?"

  "I think we've established it is Saturday," he said dryly. "Look, the rooms are booked up later today for weddings and meetings. If you come down by eight, I can show you what will be available during the week. It's up to you. We can forget the whole thing. It would certainly be less work for me."

  "No, I can come," she said quickly.

  "Great. My office is on the fifteenth floor. Stop by the concierge desk, and they'll give you a card key to get upstairs."

  "Okay, thanks." She ended the call, took a deep breath, and then scrambled out of bed. She had a feeling that if she were a minute late, Nick would rescind his offer.

  She jumped into the shower for a quick minute, then dried off, ran the blow drier through her hair and put on a dress and wedge sandals. She grabbed a cab to get across town, arriving at the Grand View Towers two minutes after eight. Not bad, she thought, as she headed into the magnificent hotel.

  The hotel sat at the top of Nob Hill and had once been one of the great mansions of San Francisco. Massive renovations had turned it into a fifteen-story, five-star hotel with every luxurious amenity imaginable. Just walking into the spectacularly beautiful lobby took her breath away.

  Exquisitely cut glass chandeliers hung from ornately carved and painted ceilings, and the slick marble floors were accented with richly woven carpets. She'd thought Nick's home had been impressive, but the hotel was beyond anything she had ever imagined.

  Nick's company had taken over the hotel seven years earlier after it had begun to flounder in an economic crash. He'd obviously infused a lot of cash into the place to bring it up to its current standards, which made her wonder just how Nick had gotten started. She'd tried to ask him the day before, but he'd evaded her question. She should have done a little more research on him, or at least asked Ricardo for more details, but she wasn't one to stalk people on the Internet. She preferred to find out who a man was from the man himself, and she had to admit she was becoming very curious about Nick.

  But that was a conversation for another day. She couldn't pry into his life when she was trying to get him to do her a huge favor. After seeing the magnificence of his hotel, she was surprised Nick would even consider letting her use a room for free. But he'd called her to come down, so she was going to take whatever help he wanted to offer her.

  Stepping up to the concierge desk, she gave her name and was promptly awarded with a card key that would enable her to access the fifteenth floor.

  The elevator walls were mirrored glass, and as she looked at herself, she couldn't help feeling like she was way out of her element. She'd grown up in dance studios and had spent most of her adult life working in the theater. The world of business was foreign to her, but if she was going to transition into a studio owner, she would have to learn how to be a businesswoman and not just a dancer.

  As she stepped off the elevator, her spike heels sank into thick, plush carpet. She made her way over to a reception desk that was manned by a beautiful young woman with dark red hair and brown eyes. After taking her name, the woman gave her a friendly smile and waved her toward the door behind her desk.

  Stepping into Nick's office was yet another adventure into the land of the rich and famous. His office, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, offered a sweeping view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. But it was the man in the black leather chair who commanded her attention.

  As he got up and walked around his massive desk to greet her, she couldn't stop the jolt of awareness that ran through her body. It was Saturday, but he still wore work clothes, charcoal gray slacks and a button-down shirt with a light plaid print. His only concession to the weekend was the lack of a tie.

  He was so attractive with his dark hair and light blue eyes. His strong jaw spoke to his determined will, and his lips reminded her of the passion they'd shared the night before. But that passion simmered beneath a very cool and controlled exterior. She didn't know Nick very well, but she sensed that he was a complicated man. She tried to tell herself that was why he wasn't her kind of man, bu
t that would mean that rich, attractive, successful businessmen were not her type, and that sounded foolish even in her own head.

  "Isabella," he said in his beautifully male baritone. "You made it."

  "I know I'm a few minutes late, but you really didn't give me that much time."

  "Short notice, I'm aware, but I didn't want you to miss this opportunity."

  "I appreciate that." She paused. "This office is really nice."

  "The perks of being the owner. Why don't you sit down for a moment?"

  "I thought you were in a hurry."

  "There's something I want to talk to you about first. You should sit."

  His suggestion made her nervous, but she followed him over to a cozy seating area, sitting down on the sofa while he sat in the adjacent chair. He drew in a breath and let it out, a frown of uncertainty drawing his brows together.

  "Well?" she asked.

  "I have a proposition for you."

  "That sounds ominous."

  "It's not really."

  "Then why is it taking you so long to speak?"

  He acknowledged her point with a tip of his head. "Okay, here it is. As you know I have to dance the tango in Argentina a week from tomorrow. I'm going to need a partner, and I'd like that person to be you."

  Her stomach turned over. "You want me to go to Argentina with you?" That was a crazy and terrible idea.

  "Yes. I'll pay for your trip. First-class flight, luxury accommodations, extra days to travel if you want. And I'll also pay you well for your time."

  She could barely take in the details. This invitation wasn't just about accompanying Nick on a business trip; it was about Argentina. He was going to her birthplace, to the country where her father still lived—the father she hadn't seen in over a decade. An emotional knot filled her throat. "I don't think so."

  "Don't answer so quickly," Nick said. "Let's talk about it."

  "I don't think there is anything to talk about."

  "Oh, but there is. In exchange for your accompanying me to Argentina and being my dance partner, I'm prepared to offer you space in the ballroom for your dance classes for the next month at no charge." He paused. "I would also be happy to discuss investing in your studio. There might be a way we can work out a loan arrangement that will allow you to buy the studio from your aunt. That, however, would require some further research, so I can't guarantee an investment, but I would be willing to talk to you about it."