Thank god. “How do you feel?” At her look, he jumped to explain. “After being there again. After that asshole jumped on you. I am sorry for that. We should have just come here.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m glad we went. It’s . . . it’s something in my past, but it’s part of me, part of my journey as a dancer. I can’t forget about it or lock it away.”
“It would be okay if you did. You’re entitled to your secrets.”
“Says the guy who was practically drooling with curiosity after meeting Renee.” She snorted. “You’re a big ol’ gossip,Macho.”
He shrugged. “You should meet the rest of my family.”
Shit.
He was saved from having to elaborate on that when the appetizers arrived. He knew what Natasha liked from the nights he’d brought food home from the restaurant. Beet salad, sweet cheese pierogies, and of course, fries.
Natasha dug right into the fries. “I meant to tell you this before. The fries here are fucking fantastic, even when you bring them home and we have to reheat them.” She shoved a few in her mouth and moaned, eyes rolling back as she chewed. “And fresh? Heavenly.”
“They’re my mom’s favorite, too,” he said. Damn it. Again. Why was he still talking about his family? “I had to make sure we had fries on the menu, just the way she likes them.”
Natasha dipped one in ketchup and used it to point. “Your mom has good taste.”
And she wants to meet you.The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Dimitri held them back. It was enough that the staff were meeting her tonight. He’d hold off on subjecting her to his pushy, loud, opinionated family.
He reached across the table and took her hand—the one that wasn’t holding more fries. She smiled at him as she chewed and the moment was sweeter than any others he could remember.
And ruined by Carlito, who chose that moment to zip over to them.
“¿Está todo bien?”he asked.
Even though the words were directed at Natasha, Dimitri answered, shooing away his nosy manager. “Everything’s fine. Go away.”
Natasha shook her head, but her fingers tightened on his. “Are you always so mean to your staff?”
“You should hear how they talk tome.No respect.”
She took a sip of wine. “You know, I used to think you were scary.”
“Wait, you don’t still think I’m scary? I need to try harder.”
She snorted into her wine glass, then glared at him as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You know you have a reputation. And I was a fan. IlovedAliens Don’t Dance. When I met you, it was like a fantasy come to life.”
Uneasiness filtered through him. Their first meeting had been an accident. He realized it later, but when she walked into the rehearsal room, he’d been going through choreography in his head, and suddenly there was someone to test it out with. He’d grabbed her, pulling her into the dance, and she’d gone willingly every step of the way. He just hadn’t expected it to be so perfect.
Her responsiveness to his lead had floored him, as if they were telepathically linked and she could anticipate each move as he thought it.
When it was over, he’d asked her name. After she gave it, he asked, “You know who I am?” When she admitted she did, he told her, “Come over tonight.”
It was fast, even for him, and kicked off everything between them. But he hadn’t known she was a fan then. Had it contributed to her interest in him? A month ago, he wouldn’t have asked. Now, they were too close for him not to, even as he dreaded the answer.
“Is that why you went home with me that first night?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head and waved a hand like that was silly. “I mean, it helped that I already knew who you were. It didn’t feel like you were a stranger, so I wasn’t worried you were going to murder me and bury my body in your backyard. But you were all intense and sexy and commanding, and dancing with you was like foreplay. I wanted to go.”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to respond to all that.” He paused. “Wait, bury you in my backyard?”
She shrugged. “A girl can’t be too careful.”
The entrees arrived, and Natasha beamed at Mariska as she set the salmon plate in front of her.
“That’s your favorite, right?” Dimitri tucked into his pork chop. “You’ve asked for it a couple times.”
