by Louisa Bacio
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A Dance With Death
Copyright © 2013 by Louisa Bacio
ISBN: 978-1-61333-604-5
Cover art by Tibbs Designs
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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Also by Louisa Bacio
A Dance with Death
A Dance with Death
A 1Night Stand Story
By
Louisa Bacio
~DEDICATION~
Many thanks to Christine Ashworth and Mary Ann Morris for your honest advice, to my editor Kate Richards for pushing me to new levels, and to Heather Bennett for your continued friendship. Finally, for all those readers of A Date with Death, who wanted to see more.
Chapter One
The slick soles of his new shoes slid on the carpet, sending Raul flying down the stairs headfirst. His hand brushed the polished rail, nails scraping the banister, before it slipped off. He cursed.
“Shit.”
His elbow crunched into the unrelenting wood, and he continued to tumble. With legs splayed, he crashed his knee onto the side panel. For a scant ten steps, an eternity of pain passed in slow motion. He couldn’t stop. Screams stuttered in a huh-huh-huh expulsion of breath.
Isabella, the beauty he was supposed to spend the evening with…. Would she arrive at the resort, ready for an adventurous weekend, only to be stood up, and him rotting broken on his home foray?
If he’d known the simple trip-and-fall would lead to his demise, he would have fought harder.
He hit, full force, head slamming against the cold, hard ceramic tile, arm twisting up and over with a sharp snap. As his ribs smashed against the floor, the air left his lungs and he gasped in much-needed air. He wasn’t immortal after working with down-on-their luck teens. He didn’t live within a movie, where the guy always earned a second chance, especially where love was concerned.
He thought of Marcus and Justin—two kids he couldn’t save, gunned down in violence. Had they died afraid? He wasn’t ready to go.
This can’t be the end. I have places to go, and a gorgeous woman to see. A night of pleasure to experience.
Lying crumpled, Raul remembered Madame Evangeline and her 1Night Stand dating service. She’d promised to deliver. Delirious, he fantasized she would hear the plea for leniency and allow his date to continue. He’s asked for clemency a few times in his life and been rejected. Why would this moment would be any different?
The familiar click of nails on the tile floor echoed in his rattled brain. Ranger nudged his master with a wet nose. With a remaining bit of energy, Raul attempted to push the faithful shepherd aside, but couldn’t manage to lift an arm. Legs askew, and a searing pounding across the back of his head, he mumbled a weak, “help,” and blacked out.
Part of his spirit consciousness hovered, watching his twisted body, and wondering what the hell he was doing. If Death claimed him at thirty-three, shouldn’t he be moving onto someplace else? A fall down like that should have killed him. So why didn’t he do the disappearing act? Good lord, was he destined to remain at home, forever haunting the damn place?
Let him pass Go, collect two hundred dollars, and move on to Heaven.
Or maybe some unfinished business held him in place. Things in life he still wanted to accomplish. The ghost form spying on his lifeless body didn’t care. He’d rather go wherever he needed to be than stay here forever.
***
Why was she going out on a blind date? Isabella never dated. Never had time to meet men, despite being surrounded by them often enough. As the lead ballerina in the South Coast Ballet Company, she’d attracted plenty of attention. Showered in roses on stage, but never asked out.
Now? Well, what else did she have to look forward to these days?
Her career was finished. Just like that. Kaput. Finito. No matter what language she said it in, she was washed up at twenty-eight. Oh, the company hadn’t fired her outright. No. They’d put her on paid leave. Might as well serve her a death-of-dancing card. Dance monopolized her life. Without it, what would she do?
Juliana, her sister, had recommended the 1Night Stand dating service. She worked in marketing with a man, Reece, who’d recently found his soul mate, Maise, through the business. With all of Isabella’s free time, Juliana thought she should do something for herself. One night, after a few glasses of wine—another pleasure she never got to enjoy in the middle of performance season—she’d filled out the application and submitted it to Madame Eve. Isabella didn’t expect a happily-ever-after, but a few happily-for-now orgasms would do her well and lift her mood.
Yesterday, she’d received a match-up. The absurdly short notice surprised her. Well, it wasn’t like she had a full dance card. Ha ha. The years stacked up, and she couldn’t continue to waltz through life.
Her potential date, Raul, composed and sometimes choreographed music videos. Of course, Madame Eve would expect Isabella to be attracted to someone who worked in the dance industry, but didn’t she know the high culture world of classical ballet and low-culture videos didn’t match? Seriously. What if he directed hip-hop? Isabella shuddered.
***
Raul leaned over the railing of the open-air hallway, gazing out over the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean. How the hell did I get here?
Someone touched his shoulder, and he jumped.
“I’m sorry to startle you, but you were not responding. Can I be of service?”
A man stood before him. Raul assessed the potential danger. The man’s slicked back dark hair showed great restraint, as if he liked everything to be controlled, even by the damp beach. If he hadn’t been speaking, Raul would have described him as brooding. He possessed deep, soulful eyes hinting at a haunted past. A shadow passed over the guy’s face, and Raul shuddered. Death. Something about him embodied the darkness of the other world. The other man grinned, and Raul shook off the feeling. That was strange.
“My name is Johnny Castillo, and I’m here to help you.”
“Where am I?”
“Castillo Resort at the Dana P
oint Cliffs. Do you have a reservation with us?”
He checked the date on his watch. “Yes, but I don’t remember getting here.”
“Ah, these things can tend to be a surprise. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I see here. As long as you have reservations, you’ve arrived on time.”
Raul cocked an eyebrow, curious to hear stories of hookups past.
“But I can’t share any of those; client privilege, of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated, his voice sounding flat to his own ears.
“Let me show you to your quarters. I believe your guest has already arrived.”
Isabella. He stumbled, and Johnny took his elbow to guide him down the hall. Raul had set up the illicit rendezvous as a sort of a lark. He didn’t know what to expect after filling out the forms, but it had been quite a while since he’d gone out with someone. All the women in his life tended to want something from him, and for once, he wanted the pleasure of a woman’s company, and touch, without her knowing his connections—or thinking about what he could do for her career. He could have his pick of beautiful women who’d get into bed with him for a chance of a role in one of his productions. He’d been there, done that.
Lately, though, he’d hit a bit of a dry spell. In the bedroom and in his music room. He missed the spark of joy that came with creating something new. Ranger remained his true companion, and delight. When he’d taken the dog for a walk last week, the animal picked up a square of card stock and brought it to him, as if delivering some delicious treat. It was a business card for the dating service.
“Are you trying to tell me something, old boy?” he’d asked.
The dog sat back on his haunches, placed one paw on Raul’s knee, and barked. Damned if even his dog didn’t think of him as a pathetic loser, lost within his music, and he didn’t even have that.
He shouldn’t be there. He had somewhere more important to be. If only he could remember what he needed to do. The thought eluded him. Then again, he wanted to enjoy the experience. The evening represented a new beginning, a return to the world.
“Sir?” the manager asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Are you going to knock on the door, or have you changed your mind?”
The man’s question broke Raul out of his thoughts. “Um, no. I’m thinking,” he said. “I just need a few moments. You can go.”
Johnny bowed to him. “If I can be of any further service this evening, please do not hesitate to call the front desk.”
“Thanks.”
Alone, Raul froze on the spot. He’d seen photos of Isabella, but being there in the flesh revved his engine. Once he knocked, and she answered, there would be no going back. Knuckles raised, he rapped on the wood.
As his date for the evening opened the door, Raul resisted the urge to pick her up, and twirl her. She reached to about mid-chest: petite, compact, and slender. Adorable and sultry. Her smile faltered.
“Oh, it’s you.” Disappointment infused her voice.
Raul turned to look behind him then rubbed his hand against his ribcage, soothing an ache brought on by her tone. What did I get myself into? “Do I know you?”
“I auditioned for one of your music videos.”
Ah. That explained it. Hadn’t he asked for no one within the industry? Madame Eve might have something up her sleeve if she’d set him up with a dancer. He sighed and put on his best performance smile. He wanted the night to work.
“Listen, I’m not sure what’s happened between us in the past. I can promise I didn’t reject you personally. It was only….”
“Business. Yeah. I’ve heard it before. Did you register for this service under a fake name?” A flush of red crept up her chest, and brightened her cheeks.
What would she look like after some strenuous activity? “No, this is my real name.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you.” She stepped aside. “You might as well come in.”
Not the welcome he’d anticipated.
Chapter Two
Sauntering in like he’s all that and more. The big music video producer who had rejected her not once, but twice. He appeared different in his picture than he did in real life. The bio showed a clean-cut businessman, sitting behind a desk. The man in front of her came from the same streets as many of his clients. Isabella had trained in ballet and jazz, but a few years earlier she’d read a call for auditions for a video for a rock interpretation of the The Nutcracker, and she’d decided to try out. One look at her boyish figure, and she’d been cut. Okay, maybe an assistant had made the decision, but still, the cuts came from the same place. Who knew they would be casting big-breasted ballet dancers? As if they could keep their balance on pointe with top-heavy silicone.
Then a friend had tried to arrange a blind date with someone perfect within the industry. They shared a common passion for dance and their Latin heritage. Except, he never showed or called to apologize for standing her up. Raul had left her waiting at the restaurant’s bar. At the time, she promised no more setups, until now. Coincidence?
She fiddled with a few wrinkles on her dress, smoothing out the vibrant purple fabric, giving her time to think. The lovely new dress gave her confidence. From the corner of her eye, she checked out her companion for the evening. Well, if the service forced her to spend an evening with a slave to popular culture, she wouldn’t throw Raul Silva out of bed. The past few years she’d been so dedicated to her creative craft, it had taken all her passion. Hell. Her entire friggin’ life. When Isabella was in high school, her mama hadn’t wanted her going out because it would be a distraction. Isabella practiced so much, she missed participating in school activities, and once she’d gone to college…. Well, the men who took dance classes were either gay or they slept with every female on the team. The few outside guys she’d gone out with ended in disaster. They met her base physical demands, but didn’t understand her schedule.
With his muscular build and suave attitude, Raul oozed sexual confidence. Every music video he produced featured the hottest dancers and most alluring songs. A man like that knew how to please a woman. Hopefully.
“Can we begin again?” he asked, reaching toward her. “Hello, I’m Raul, and you are?”
She’d signed up for the evening, no matter what lay in store for her. She might as well roll with it.
“Isabella Romano. Ballerina.”
The moment their hands touched, his cool palm sent a shiver through her. His firm grip made her imagine them—nude—between the sheets.
She blushed, turning away. “You’re freezing.”
“Sorry. It’s windy out there.”
“Do you have a bag you’d like to put away?”
The question seemed to throw him, and he glanced down. “No. I guess I didn’t think I would need anything.”
“I got here a bit earlier, and you should see some of the items in the closet—pajama bottoms—his and hers—robes, and the bathroom’s full of toiletries, so you made the right choice.”
A black and white scheme dominated the room. Rich black bedspread with satin black sheets. Bright yellow pillows accented the classic style.
She sat on the edge of the bed and dug into the faux diamond Minx black throw. So luxurious. Something one would find in a fine hotel. Who could keep all that black clean and lint-free in real life? She wanted to ditch her clothes and roll up naked in its softness. In fact, she almost had while waiting for her date to arrive.
If Raul had met Isabella before that moment, he would have remembered her. She moved with the gait of a lifelong dancer. Elegant. No wonder ballerinas were described with terminology such as a gazelle. He worked with pop stars and modern artists so often, he’d forgotten the beauty of the more simple pleasures. Isabella seemed to shun simple. She embodied grace, refined and fragile.
Where had that thought come from? Despite being in dance—way back in the day—and working as a choreographer and producer, Raul’s image of himself was tilted, off-centered. He lacked agility—an og
re, a brute who would break the porcelain figurine the minute he got her between the sheets. His hard-on raged at the thought of her lithe body stripped bare, wriggling beneath him. Oh, he’d have to go slowly and gently, but she’d scream his name before the night ended. He could use the little ego boost and extracurricular activity.
She watched him, and he grew tired of the stalemate. Time slipped away, too precious to waste on the monotony of hard feelings.
“You need to loosen up.”
She opened her mouth, a line creased her forehead, and he moved, kissing her.
Full lips. His arm slipped around her waist and held her firm against him. She squirmed in his embrace, but soon her lips became more pliant, she leaned into his body, and let out a soft moan.
“That’s more like it,” he said, releasing her. “We need to spend more time kissing than arguing. Deal?”
She blinked at him, silent.
Her stomach growled, breaking the quiet, and she covered the offensive part with her palms.
He laughed at her expression of surprise. “Hungry? I think it’s about time for dinner.”
He’d laid his lips on her. One minute they were talking, and the next, smack. Raul unlocked the sliding glass door leading to the balcony and escorted her to the outdoor dining area. He rested his hand on her lower back, and she leaned into his touch. The truth was, she hadn’t minded the kiss one bit. She wanted more, right away.
The combination of smells wafting from the food and nerves flipped her stomach so much, she didn’t know if she could eat. But, if she didn’t, he would think her one of those picky dancers who feared packing on the pounds. At the worst, anorexic. She’d been thin most of her life, which worked in her favor with the choice of profession. Some people thought thin meant she starved herself. Just the opposite. She burned so many calories through the daily hours of exercise and practice, she needed to eat more often to keep up her energy.
