“You’re kidding.” Patrick’s eyes twinkled with mock shock. “You’re not going to compete? You love the Keystone. You’ve been going since we were fifteen, and you dragged the rest of the ballroom dance club with you because you wanted the moral support.” For some reason his kind smile stabbed her a bit in the heart, but he seemed to notice and softened his voice. That was the thing about Patrick. He could definitely read a room. “Not that you needed it.”
“I’m competing in pro/am, and I have students who have registered as couples.” She did not have time fordisappointment. She was a professional business owner. Besides, disappointment caused wrinkles. “I don’t have a partner for the open, and I don’t have the time to find someone to practice the routines.”
Things had been so easy back in high school. The girls all dressed in sequins and fringe, shellacking Patrick’s curly hair into an impenetrable helmet. So much laughter. She was the idiot for dancing with Tyler, nationally ranked but more than a bit of a tool.
Live and learn.
Anita returned her attention to her friend, who was watching her with a curious expression.
Patrick shrugged. “I’ll do it.”
Anita barked a laugh. Of all the things he could have said. “Patrick, you don’t have the time. You only teach when you aren’t writing,andyou haven’t competed in over a year.” Since he left the studio, but she refused give voice to her pettiness.
“I bet it’s like riding a bike.” He smiled in that hapless charming manner of his, stretching his long legs in front of him. “We’ve danced together a couple of times before, and it worked out. I seem to recall some bronzer and a little hairspray.”
“A lot of hairspray.” Anita smiled, mostly to force the memories of their few dances together from her mind. She was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent not going to blush in front of him. That show dance from the Ohio Star Ball…
Lock the door on that unhelpful line of thought and throw the key far, far away. A girl has to keep herself together.
She really didn’t want to miss the Keystone Star Ball. There was going to be a memorial for Nikita Ivanovna, who had been murdered three months prior. Plus, she begrudgingly had to admit Patrick was an excellent partner. Especially when she could still see the outlines of his muscles through his Zumba tank. Was that a six- or an eight-pack?
Anita gulped and glanced at her computer screen, which had changed from her financial report to her screen saver. She needed a glass of wine and a hot bubble bath. “You’re too tall for me.”
Patrick leaned forward, causing his tank top to gape at the top and offering Anita a glimpse of his full set. Eight-pack, definitely.It was not fair to dangle carrots like that. “Anita, you are five foot seven, and you wear three-inch heels when you dance. You can handle it.”
He had to be right, of course. As always.
“Seriously, what is the problem? You want to do this. I’m available. You can convince the coordinator to let me come out of retirement or whatever.” His deep blue eyes looked almost wounded. “I’m notthatbad of a dancer.”
She frowned, staring at the screen saver on her computer. Photos of palm trees and jungle waterfalls spilling into crystalline pools floated softly across the screen. He wasn’t a bad dancer at all. He had always been rather magnificent. Responsive, kind, careful. Sometimes when she watched him dance, she would wonder what it would feel like to partner with him, really work with him, all of the hours together choreographing and refining. Touching. Nobody had hands like Patrick.
But that had never been their relationship. It never could be.
She definitely needed to stop drinking coffee if it was going to affect her heart rate like this.
“Patrick, this is really important to me. Of course I want to compete again, but I don’t want to fail. I am tired of partners who put themselves first, and the dance suffers. So I need a partner who’s going to be there with me. Who’s not going to slack off or show up at eleven thirty when I needed him there at eight.” Mikhail? Tyler? Giorgio? Terrible taste in men? Check, check, check.
Patrick sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. Those blue eyes that she knew so well looked so thoughtful, so caring. “I know how much this means to you. I can be that guy. I promise.” His gaze found hers, and he held it for several long moments.
Anita blushed under his intensity. Something deep in her gut pinged, almost like a homing beacon or one of those sonar blips on a submarine. “Okay, then. We will start tomorrow at nine.”
He grinned. “What? What happened to eight? I had already mentally set my alarm.” That lopsided grin was decidedly disarming. She needed to schedule some serious meditation ASAP if she was going to keep her composure through this.
“Toni has Zumba again tomorrow morning. The studio won’t be free until then. Besides, I need today to figure out what we are going to perform, work out some basic choreo, and call the coordinator to tell her you’re coming out of retirement. I’m not sure what we will do. We are starting way too late for the 10 Dance.” She gathered one of the stacks of paper on her desk into a useless pile.
“Is it really coming out of retirement when I teach at the high school and still have the occasional private lesson?”
“Nina Rabinova does not count.” Anita finger-combed her long, dark-blonde ponytail. “She takes lessons from everyone. Says she wants to ‘perfect her dancer’s body.’ Though honestly, I think the only dancer’s body she has ever wanted is yours.”
Patrick feigned shock, a hand held to his chest in a very Scarlett O’Hara gesture. “Ms. Anita Goodman, what are you implying? I’ll have you know, I am always the perfect gentleman with my clients.”
“Uh-huh.” Anita raised her eyebrows. “Much to their chagrin, I’m sure.”
“Well, I’d love to sit here and banter, but I know you have a ton of work to plan for me to do.” Patrick rose from the chair.“I’m going for a run. I need to check out the new Barney’s Bagels down off Pine Crest.”
“Does the running cancel out the bagels?”
“Absolutely. Otherwise, why bother?” Patrick grinned wickedly, and Anita raised her hand in farewell.
