No, their interactions were strictly the carnal sort. Dimitri was a judge onThe Dance Off,a TV show that paired celebrities with professional dancers for a ballroom dance competition, and she was one of the pro dancers. They weren’t friends, just coworkers who sometimes banged. It was ridiculous to want to spill to him about the whole situation, and even more ridiculous to worry her snippy words would push him away. This was what she wanted. Distance. Space.
Right. And she was a fucking liar. She wanted him with her every breath, but all he would ever do was break her heart, and that was fragile enough as it was. That was exactly why she needed to stay away from him. Finishing up with the dryer, she headed back to her apartment.
Halfway through vacuuming the living room rug—again—and cursing California’s propensity toward wall-to-wall carpet, the tears burst through the flimsy emotional dam she’d constructed.
Good thing she’d taken out her lenses.
The vacuum filled the room with its obnoxious roar, and all the stress and exhaustion crashed down on her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she shoved her fingers under her glasses to swipe at her eyes. This sucked. Everything sucked. And she had no idea what to do.
The no-strings on-and-off shit she had going with Dimitri put her through the wringer. No sleep plus a day of teaching had left her physically drained. And now, faced with the prospect of being broke and homeless, she was done. So done. She’d been in tough spots before, had made hard decisions she hoped to never make again. Life had shown her early on that you could only rely on yourself, but the past few years had seemed like smooth sailing. She’d paid down her debts with her last payout fromThe Dance Off,and when her white Honda had up and died, she’d had the money from her recent acting gig to buy a new one.
And then Gina found true love and moved out.
She was happy for Gina. Truly. Cynical as she was, Natasha still believed in true love, and Gina of all people deserved happiness. Gina Morales and her celebrity partner Stone Nielson had fallen in love while paired together on the previous season ofThe Dance Off.Their win had opened more doors for them, and they’d left Los Angeles, vowing to navigate the waves of show business together.
Natasha hated herself for feeling jealous, but she and Gina had been friends since they were fourteen. They’d done everything together—high school, starting a dance career, moving to LA—mostly thanks to Gina’s limitless ambition and organizational skills. Now she was gone.
Still, Natasha had handled it. All of it. She had skills and a bit of fame on her side, so she’d secured a slew of side gigs to keep her financial situation steady. Some cameo spots, modeling gigs, and a lot of dance and fitness classes that would get money in her pocket quickly. Once the next season started, she’d be in the clear again.
Except for this. A hole in the damn ceiling. A leak in her closet. And bugs. Bugs! There was only one kind that struck terror into the hearts of building superintendents, and it wasn’t roaches.
A shiver ran down her spine. She had to get the hell out of here. But where could she go? Gina was her ride-or-die, and she’d send money if Natasha asked, but that was exactly why she didn’t want to ask. She could call Lori Kim or Kevin Ray, her friends and coworkers onThe Dance Off,but Lori’s roommates were awful, and Kevin was weird about having people in his house.
A heavy knock sounded from the front door, audible over the roar of the vacuum and her sobs.
Sucking in a deep breath, she shut off the vacuum and wiped her eyes. She didn’t care if Manny saw her crying—she had a good reason, and he knew it—so she yelled,“Entra.”
The apartment door opened. It wasn’t Manny.
Natasha stumbled backward over the vacuum cord when Dimitri Kovalenko strode into the room.
Before they’d met, she’d known his face from movies and magazines. In person, he stunned the senses. Dark hair and heavy brows, eyes the color of milk chocolate that focused on her with laser intensity, and always at least a few days of stubble darkening his cheeks and upping his masculinity even more. As if his commanding posture and broad shoulders weren’t already intimidating in a way that made her want to rub her body against his like a cat.
And she . . . god, she probably looked a mess. Sweaty, frizzy hair, glasses. No. No, he couldn’t see her like this. What the hell was he even doing here?
Dimitri froze, his gaze tracking over her tear-streaked cheeks, and his usually stern expression tipped toward concern. “Tasha? What’s going on?”
His voice, normally loud and forceful, was softer than she’d ever heard it. He advanced on her, and she trembled, both wanting his touch and fearing it.Don’t be nice to me,she wanted to beg.I’m too raw already. I can’t take it.
His hands clasped her shoulders, warm and solid, and the comforting green scent of his cologne surrounded her. She swallowed hard, wishing she could lean on him, just for a moment, just to know what it felt like to have someone there to catch her if she fell.
But that someone wasn’t Dimitri, would never be Dimitri. He wasn’t the type to stick around. Hell, he’d never done it before. Why would he start now? He was an occasional hookup. Nothing more.
Dimitri leaned in, and Natasha found the strength to press her hand to his chest to hold him back. Something flashed across his features—hurt? Probably annoyance. But she steeled her resolve. If he kissed her now, it would break her, and she had to stay strong if she was going to figure out the mess she was in.
Natasha lifted her chin, trying to appear in control. “What do you want, Dimitri? I told you, I don’t have time for you right now.” She’d meant to make the words harsh, but they came out weary.
He stepped back, his dark, intense gaze moving around the room, taking in the garbage bags stuffed with clothing, and the smaller pieces of bedroom furniture crowded in the kitchen. “You said you weren’t okay.”
She gestured toward the door to her room, which she had shut to limit the amount of dust in the rest of the apartment. “I’m not. Go look in my bedroom.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “My favorite place.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Just go look.” She kept her gaze averted as he opened her bedroom door and went in. The man had a fantastic ass, but now was not the time to admire it. Flustered by his sudden appearance and uncharacteristic concern, she turned the vacuum back on and ran it over the carpet again, just to have something to do.
A few moments later, he walked back into the living room. At his pointed look, she shut the vacuum off so she could hear him.
“Your bathroom ceiling is gone.”
