An idea formed in her head, and she searched the room for Jordan from her spot on the floor. She found him dragging out microphone stands. He had a mic shoved inside the back pocket of his jeans, tatted biceps bulging as usual.
Everything about the man was incredibly alluring. She knew why, but now she wanted him to show the boys.
“Jordan,” she sang his name and watched with a smile when he halted.
A frown etched his face as he faced her.
“Can you come here for a moment?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
Damn it. Undeterred, she turned up the sugar. “Please?” She added a pout.
When he inhaled deeply, she knew she was breaking him. “I need some positive male reinforcement for our new recruits, and I know you can do it.”
“If you think I’m going to strut my ass down that runway?—”
“It’s not a strut,” she interrupted. “It’s a swagger. And yes, I think you’re going to do it, because you’ve been mentoring these boys for months. Now you’re going to show them that a real man can do anything, whether it’s shooting the buzzer beater or swaggering down a runway to save the gym they love.” She tilted her head, adding in a softer tone, “Come on, Zeus. I believe in you, and so do they.”
With a low growl, Jordan set aside the stand he was holding and stalked to the back of the stage. He stomped up the steps and glared at her. “How do you want me to…swagger?”
At this point, there was a ripple of snickers and giggles, but when she glanced at Beck, he was watching Jordan intently. These were the small moments, she knew from experience, that defined both the teacher and the student.
“I’m going to turn on the music, and you’re going to walk toward me like you always do.” She smiled. “With glowering intent.”
His lip curled as he took his stance, and she bit hers to stifle the giggle that bubbled up. It was dangerous, this feeling she had when she was around him, but God help her, she couldn’t stop it.
“Eyes on me, Thompson,” she said, right before she hit play.
As requested, his eyes locked on hers like a magnet while the first notes filled the air. The song was the same as the one she’d walked to earlier that afternoon, the same one that had played the night they’d kissed. She wondered ifhe’d made the connection. Judging by his smoldering, she was pretty sure he did.
He took the catwalk at a clipped pace, far too fast for the show, but his swagger was perfect. Masculine and powerful. His long legs ate up the distance with a possessive prowl. He was dangerously attractive, and his magnetism was electric, addictive. He could be wearing anything (or nothing) and she would’ve bought whatever he was selling, given any donation he’d ask.
When he made it to the end, he glowered down at her, but there was a twitch at the corner of his lip that betrayed him. He hadn’t hated that.
He dropped to a crouch, so his face was level with hers. “Did I do it right, princess?”
She swallowed, resisting the urge to break eye contact. Instead, she cocked her head and said, “You were too fast, but other than that it was okay.”
She turned to her models in training. “See, boys?” It came out croakier than she wanted, and she cleared her throat. “If Jordan can do it, anyone can. Shoulders back, head up, confident swagger and the crowd will be handing over donations like they’re in pews at a church.”
She glanced at her phone for the time. “Okay, we’ve been here for two and a half hours. See you all tomorrow. We’ll run it again, and then Friday is the dress rehearsal, so please don’t be late. I’m looking at you, Rory.”
“I have school!” the girl cried.
“Which finishes at three. Rehearsal is at four. If you want to open the show, don’t be late.”
Rory grumbled under her breath, which better have been affirming she’d be there, as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door with Beck at her heels.
As the last of the group left, Chantal walked into thegym. She staggered to a halt, blinking several times at the stage and the curtained backstage area Jordan had almost finished putting up.
“Wow,” she said. “This place is transformed. Look at that runway.”
“My father made it,” Vanessa told her proudly. “Jordan assembled it last night and has been working on the curtained backstage today. I’ve used a big portion of our budget on proper lighting, but I think we’ll make back all the costs and then some with the final show. It’s going to be so great, Chantal. I can’t wait.”
With a shake of her head, the older woman smiled at her. “I knew you could do it. I never had any doubt.” She squeezed Vanessa’s hand. “Thank you so much for the work you’ve put in. Everyone at The Link, myself included, is hugely indebted to you. It’s not lost on me how many hours you’ve put into this, and I cherish that. Especially knowing you were…hesitant at the start.”
Vanessa’s cheeks heated at the memory of how rudely she’d refused Chantal’s request that day.
