A Fool's Gold Christmas
Page 9
The brothers looked at each other and then back at Dante.
“Sure,” Shane said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Dante sank into the chair behind him and rested his head in his hands. “It’s too early for a beer, right?”
Rafe chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Of course we’ll be there. When is it?”
“Saturday.” Dante told them where to be. “Bring tools and paintbrushes.” He raised his head. “Let me be clear. There won’t be any excuses and you will be on time. You’ll work hard, be cooperative and not do anything to upset your sister. Oh, and while I have you here, this is where I tell you that you will also be attending the performance. Got it?”
“Of course we’ll be there,” Rafe said, shifting in his seat. “We, ah, were always going to come.”
“Right.” Dante scowled at him. “You’re a crappy liar.”
“I know, but that makes me a good business partner.” Rafe drew in a breath. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“You’re welcome.”
* * *
THE FIFTEEN OR SO GIRLS were crowded around Evie’s laptop, watching the DVD of the performance from three years ago.
“This is the part I was talking about,” Evie said. “Until that last four-count, the dance is beautiful. See how everyone moves together? Then it comes to an end and there are three beats of nothing, followed by everyone clomping off the stage.”
Melissa Sutton turned to Evie. “Do you really think they clomped?”
“I’m sure not in their hearts, but that’s what it looks like.” She walked away from the group, exaggerating her steps so she sounded more like an elephant than a dancer.
The girls all laughed.
“So we need something different,” Evie said. “Something more lyrical.”
Fifteen pairs of eyes watched her anxiously, both excited and a little nervous.
Her other classes were divided by age, skill level and style of dance. She had the six-year-olds who were awkward but adorable. The beginning class in tap and ballet for seven- to eleven-year-olds was popular. She taught one clog dancing class, several in modern dance. There were classes for those near-teens, who had several years of experience, and finally a ballet class for one group of serious students. Then there was this group—fifteen girls of all ages and abilities who were new to dance.
Melissa Sutton was the oldest, at fifteen. Her younger sister Abby was also in the class. The rest were around twelve or thirteen. The girls were tall, short and everything in between. A few were here because they had weight problems, and their pediatrician had suggested dance as a way to get exercise. None of them had any experience, and most lacked a sense of rhythm. But they were fun and enthused and Evie enjoyed teaching them. They were already nervous about the performance, and she wasn’t looking to increase their anxiety.
“I thought we would try something simple. Who here has seen Swan Lake?”
A few of the girls raised their hands.
Evie walked over to her computer and changed the DVDs. “There’s something called ‘Pas de Quartre of the Small Swans.’ It’s four dancers together. I thought we could do something like that, but in groups of five.”
She found the right part of the ballet and pushed the play button. The girls gathered around her computer. As the dance began, their eyes widened, and they all turned to stare at her.
“We can’t do that,” Melissa said. “We don’t know ballet. This is modern dance. And to go up on our toes like that?”
One of the bigger girls bit her lower lip. “I’d look stupid trying.”
“No,” Evie said quickly. “I’m not asking you to dance en pointe. I’m showing you the style of what I’m thinking we’ll do for our exit.”
She moved to the center of the room. “At the end of your dance, you’re all in a row. Bent over like this.” She counted the beats, then straightened and moved her arms.
“Now pretend I’m at the end of the row. We’ll do three groups of five dancers, so I would go forward three counts.” She motioned for Melissa to join her. “Stand here, with your arms crossed.”
Melissa took Evie’s left hand with her right.
“Good. Now quick steps to the right, on the balls of your feet, and one and two and three and four, straight, lifting.”
Melissa did as she said, and they moved across the floor. Evie released her. She bent forward, her arms still crossed in front of her, then straightened and moved four more steps.
“I haven’t gone to the stage yet, to do the actual count. I’m thinking it will be three combinations. As the first row moves to the right, the second row will move forward and follow.”
Melissa nodded slowly. “I get it. It’s the spirit of that bit from Swan Lake, without the scary parts.”
Evie laughed. “Exactly. Want to do it with me?”
“Sure.”
Evie put the music in the CD player. “We’ll start from the beginning.”
“One and two and three and four.”
Evie and Melissa moved together in the simple dance. Her leg was still sore from her workout the previous day, but she was used to working through the pain. As they finished the three-minute routine, she reached for Melissa’s hand and stepped to the side. The girl kept up, only stumbling twice.
“And we’re off the stage,” she said. “Easy enough?”
Her class glanced at each other, then back at her. Abby, Melissa’s sister nodded.
“I can do that.”
“Me, too,” one of the other girls said.
“I knew you could,” Evie told them. “Now everyone line up, and we’ll take it from the top.”
It took the rest of class, but by the end all the girls were comfortable with the transition. As her students walked out of the studio, Evie went to turn off the CD. Melissa followed her.
“You’re really patient with us,” the teen said.
“You’re great to work with.”
“I know we’re not as good as some of the other classes. I’ve seen Grace dance. She’s amazing.”
Grace was fourteen and one of the school’s most promising students. Starting in January, Evie would be working with her privately. While each of the performers would get a chance to shine at the show, Grace had one of the only two longer solos.
“She’s been studying since she was four,” Evie told Melissa. “That’s a long time.”
“I know. I really like coming here, though.”
“I’m glad. I hope you continue to dance.”
Melissa wrinkled her nose. “Could I ever dance on my toes?”
“Of course. It’s not that hard.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” Evie said with a laugh. “But you get used to it.”
Melissa grinned. “I can’t wait.” She hugged Evie, then ran out.
Evie followed her toward the reception area and was surprised to find Dante there. Several of the mothers were helping their daughters into winter coats and boots, although Evie noticed more than a few of the moms were glancing toward the handsome attorney.
She couldn’t blame them. The man dazzled in a suit. She had a feeling he would look just as good without one.
She watched her students leave, then turned to him.
“There’s no clog dancing tonight,” she said. “You have no reason to complain.”
His blue eyes were dark with an emotion she couldn’t read. He looked at the door, then back at her.
“Last class of the night?” he asked.
She nodded. “Everything will be quiet. Do you have to phone Shanghai again?”
“Not exactly.”
He took a step toward her, then put his hands on her waist and drew her against him. She went easily, wanting to feel his arms around her. She was overwhelmed by all she had to accomplish before the performance, a little freaked out by the holiday season and uncomfortable about having her family so close. The idea of forgetting all that in a passionate embrace suddenly seemed like a great idea.
He lowered his mouth to hers. She tilted her head, let her eyes close and her hands settle on his broad shoulders. Then she gave herself over to the soft, warm insistence of Dante’s kiss.
Chapter Seven
Dante tasted of mint and warmth. His mouth moved against hers, back and forth, exploring, teasing. She found herself wanting more from him, so she tightened her hold on his shoulders and leaned in slightly.
Her body came in contact with his. He was all hard muscles. She felt delicate next to him—feminine. His hands spanned her back, his fingers pressing lightly against her. The leotard didn’t offer much in the way of a barrier, and he quickly heated her.
She kissed him back, moving her mouth as well, then parted her lips. He slipped inside, his tongue lightly stroking hers. She went up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, even as they kissed more deeply.
Low in her belly, wanting blossomed. Her thighs ached for a reason that had nothing to do with exercise and everything to do with anticipation. Her blood moved more quickly, spreading desire to every part of her.
He drew back enough to stare into her eyes. “You’re dangerous.”
She smiled. “Hardly.”
“Sexy, tempting and the whole dance thing. I’m getting all these images in my head.”
“Imagining what I can do?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
Dante was one of those men who liked to be in control, she thought. It came with his profession and partially from his personality. She would guess he nearly always had the upper hand in his relationships.
Still on tiptoe, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Whatever you’re thinking, I can do more.”
She slowly lowered herself until she was standing flat-footed. Dante’s eyes were glazed, his mouth slightly parted. The comment was mostly cheap talk. Sure, she was limber and strong and could probably get in positions that he’d only dreamed about, but so what? That didn’t mean she was any more secure than other women. She still worried about how she looked na**d and whether or not the relationship would have a happy ending.
He shook his head, as if clearing his mind, then swore under his breath. “It’s the dancing,” he muttered. “You’re too sexy.”
“Thank you, but the truth is, I’m not that good a dancer.”
“You’re the best I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed. “Again, a lovely compliment, but you’re hardly a discriminating audience.” She thought about the feel of his mouth on hers. “Good kisses, though.”
“You like them?”
“I do.”
“Good. Then we should plan to kiss more.”
A goal she could get behind. Dante might not be long-term material, but didn’t she deserve a little fun? It was the holiday season. He could be her gift to herself. Being with him was easy and natural. She needed more of that in her life.
He cleared his throat and deliberately put space between them. “Okay, there’s a reason I came to talk to you.”
“Which is?”
“The work party is arranged. Charlie and Patience have taken care of most of the volunteers. I’m picking up the supplies tomorrow. We’re starting at eight on Saturday morning.”
“At the warehouse?”
He nodded. “We have a big workspace. If everyone who says he’s coming does, we’re going to need it.” He paused. “Your brothers will be there.”
She looked at him. “Your doing?”
“Maybe.”
She wanted to say she didn’t need them, that she would be fine on her own. But the truth was, she didn’t know anything about refurbishing sets for a production. She needed help, and she would be grateful for anyone who showed up.
“Thank you,” she told him.
“You mean that?”
“Nearly.”
He laughed and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Close enough. I gotta go. See you Saturday?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
EVIE MANAGED TO hang on to the post-kiss tingles during her walk home. A trick, considering the temperature had to be close to freezing. There were plenty of stars in the sky, but the next storm would bring snow to Fool’s Gold.
Still, despite the occasional shiver, she felt warm inside. Or maybe just quivery. There was something about a man who knew how to kiss. No doubt Dante had plenty of practice with the women in his life. Something she should remember to keep herself safe. In the meantime, she would enjoy the anticipation.
As she turned onto her street, she noticed there were more decorations on the various houses and townhomes. Lights on roof lines, and plastic snowmen and Santas on lawns. By contrast, Dante’s place was completely dark and hers only had a few flameless candles in the front windows. Maybe she should find out about getting some lights for the front window and maybe a wreath for her door.
As she walked up to the porch, she glanced next door. Obviously Dante wasn’t home yet. She wondered how late he was going to work and wished they had the kind of relationship where she could simply call and invite him over for dinner. Not that she had anything to eat. Still, they could get takeout. Maybe Chinese.
She went inside and flipped on lights. After hanging up her jacket, she hit the switch for the gas fireplace, then waited for the whoosh as it started up. She wandered into the kitchen, already knowing there was nothing to eat, and wondered why ordering takeout for one didn’t sound as exciting as when it was for two.
“Sure,” Shane said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Dante sank into the chair behind him and rested his head in his hands. “It’s too early for a beer, right?”
Rafe chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Of course we’ll be there. When is it?”
“Saturday.” Dante told them where to be. “Bring tools and paintbrushes.” He raised his head. “Let me be clear. There won’t be any excuses and you will be on time. You’ll work hard, be cooperative and not do anything to upset your sister. Oh, and while I have you here, this is where I tell you that you will also be attending the performance. Got it?”
“Of course we’ll be there,” Rafe said, shifting in his seat. “We, ah, were always going to come.”
“Right.” Dante scowled at him. “You’re a crappy liar.”
“I know, but that makes me a good business partner.” Rafe drew in a breath. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“You’re welcome.”
* * *
THE FIFTEEN OR SO GIRLS were crowded around Evie’s laptop, watching the DVD of the performance from three years ago.
“This is the part I was talking about,” Evie said. “Until that last four-count, the dance is beautiful. See how everyone moves together? Then it comes to an end and there are three beats of nothing, followed by everyone clomping off the stage.”
Melissa Sutton turned to Evie. “Do you really think they clomped?”
“I’m sure not in their hearts, but that’s what it looks like.” She walked away from the group, exaggerating her steps so she sounded more like an elephant than a dancer.
The girls all laughed.
“So we need something different,” Evie said. “Something more lyrical.”
Fifteen pairs of eyes watched her anxiously, both excited and a little nervous.
Her other classes were divided by age, skill level and style of dance. She had the six-year-olds who were awkward but adorable. The beginning class in tap and ballet for seven- to eleven-year-olds was popular. She taught one clog dancing class, several in modern dance. There were classes for those near-teens, who had several years of experience, and finally a ballet class for one group of serious students. Then there was this group—fifteen girls of all ages and abilities who were new to dance.
Melissa Sutton was the oldest, at fifteen. Her younger sister Abby was also in the class. The rest were around twelve or thirteen. The girls were tall, short and everything in between. A few were here because they had weight problems, and their pediatrician had suggested dance as a way to get exercise. None of them had any experience, and most lacked a sense of rhythm. But they were fun and enthused and Evie enjoyed teaching them. They were already nervous about the performance, and she wasn’t looking to increase their anxiety.
“I thought we would try something simple. Who here has seen Swan Lake?”
A few of the girls raised their hands.
Evie walked over to her computer and changed the DVDs. “There’s something called ‘Pas de Quartre of the Small Swans.’ It’s four dancers together. I thought we could do something like that, but in groups of five.”
She found the right part of the ballet and pushed the play button. The girls gathered around her computer. As the dance began, their eyes widened, and they all turned to stare at her.
“We can’t do that,” Melissa said. “We don’t know ballet. This is modern dance. And to go up on our toes like that?”
One of the bigger girls bit her lower lip. “I’d look stupid trying.”
“No,” Evie said quickly. “I’m not asking you to dance en pointe. I’m showing you the style of what I’m thinking we’ll do for our exit.”
She moved to the center of the room. “At the end of your dance, you’re all in a row. Bent over like this.” She counted the beats, then straightened and moved her arms.
“Now pretend I’m at the end of the row. We’ll do three groups of five dancers, so I would go forward three counts.” She motioned for Melissa to join her. “Stand here, with your arms crossed.”
Melissa took Evie’s left hand with her right.
“Good. Now quick steps to the right, on the balls of your feet, and one and two and three and four, straight, lifting.”
Melissa did as she said, and they moved across the floor. Evie released her. She bent forward, her arms still crossed in front of her, then straightened and moved four more steps.
“I haven’t gone to the stage yet, to do the actual count. I’m thinking it will be three combinations. As the first row moves to the right, the second row will move forward and follow.”
Melissa nodded slowly. “I get it. It’s the spirit of that bit from Swan Lake, without the scary parts.”
Evie laughed. “Exactly. Want to do it with me?”
“Sure.”
Evie put the music in the CD player. “We’ll start from the beginning.”
“One and two and three and four.”
Evie and Melissa moved together in the simple dance. Her leg was still sore from her workout the previous day, but she was used to working through the pain. As they finished the three-minute routine, she reached for Melissa’s hand and stepped to the side. The girl kept up, only stumbling twice.
“And we’re off the stage,” she said. “Easy enough?”
Her class glanced at each other, then back at her. Abby, Melissa’s sister nodded.
“I can do that.”
“Me, too,” one of the other girls said.
“I knew you could,” Evie told them. “Now everyone line up, and we’ll take it from the top.”
It took the rest of class, but by the end all the girls were comfortable with the transition. As her students walked out of the studio, Evie went to turn off the CD. Melissa followed her.
“You’re really patient with us,” the teen said.
“You’re great to work with.”
“I know we’re not as good as some of the other classes. I’ve seen Grace dance. She’s amazing.”
Grace was fourteen and one of the school’s most promising students. Starting in January, Evie would be working with her privately. While each of the performers would get a chance to shine at the show, Grace had one of the only two longer solos.
“She’s been studying since she was four,” Evie told Melissa. “That’s a long time.”
“I know. I really like coming here, though.”
“I’m glad. I hope you continue to dance.”
Melissa wrinkled her nose. “Could I ever dance on my toes?”
“Of course. It’s not that hard.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” Evie said with a laugh. “But you get used to it.”
Melissa grinned. “I can’t wait.” She hugged Evie, then ran out.
Evie followed her toward the reception area and was surprised to find Dante there. Several of the mothers were helping their daughters into winter coats and boots, although Evie noticed more than a few of the moms were glancing toward the handsome attorney.
She couldn’t blame them. The man dazzled in a suit. She had a feeling he would look just as good without one.
She watched her students leave, then turned to him.
“There’s no clog dancing tonight,” she said. “You have no reason to complain.”
His blue eyes were dark with an emotion she couldn’t read. He looked at the door, then back at her.
“Last class of the night?” he asked.
She nodded. “Everything will be quiet. Do you have to phone Shanghai again?”
“Not exactly.”
He took a step toward her, then put his hands on her waist and drew her against him. She went easily, wanting to feel his arms around her. She was overwhelmed by all she had to accomplish before the performance, a little freaked out by the holiday season and uncomfortable about having her family so close. The idea of forgetting all that in a passionate embrace suddenly seemed like a great idea.
He lowered his mouth to hers. She tilted her head, let her eyes close and her hands settle on his broad shoulders. Then she gave herself over to the soft, warm insistence of Dante’s kiss.
Chapter Seven
Dante tasted of mint and warmth. His mouth moved against hers, back and forth, exploring, teasing. She found herself wanting more from him, so she tightened her hold on his shoulders and leaned in slightly.
Her body came in contact with his. He was all hard muscles. She felt delicate next to him—feminine. His hands spanned her back, his fingers pressing lightly against her. The leotard didn’t offer much in the way of a barrier, and he quickly heated her.
She kissed him back, moving her mouth as well, then parted her lips. He slipped inside, his tongue lightly stroking hers. She went up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, even as they kissed more deeply.
Low in her belly, wanting blossomed. Her thighs ached for a reason that had nothing to do with exercise and everything to do with anticipation. Her blood moved more quickly, spreading desire to every part of her.
He drew back enough to stare into her eyes. “You’re dangerous.”
She smiled. “Hardly.”
“Sexy, tempting and the whole dance thing. I’m getting all these images in my head.”
“Imagining what I can do?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
Dante was one of those men who liked to be in control, she thought. It came with his profession and partially from his personality. She would guess he nearly always had the upper hand in his relationships.
Still on tiptoe, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Whatever you’re thinking, I can do more.”
She slowly lowered herself until she was standing flat-footed. Dante’s eyes were glazed, his mouth slightly parted. The comment was mostly cheap talk. Sure, she was limber and strong and could probably get in positions that he’d only dreamed about, but so what? That didn’t mean she was any more secure than other women. She still worried about how she looked na**d and whether or not the relationship would have a happy ending.
He shook his head, as if clearing his mind, then swore under his breath. “It’s the dancing,” he muttered. “You’re too sexy.”
“Thank you, but the truth is, I’m not that good a dancer.”
“You’re the best I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed. “Again, a lovely compliment, but you’re hardly a discriminating audience.” She thought about the feel of his mouth on hers. “Good kisses, though.”
“You like them?”
“I do.”
“Good. Then we should plan to kiss more.”
A goal she could get behind. Dante might not be long-term material, but didn’t she deserve a little fun? It was the holiday season. He could be her gift to herself. Being with him was easy and natural. She needed more of that in her life.
He cleared his throat and deliberately put space between them. “Okay, there’s a reason I came to talk to you.”
“Which is?”
“The work party is arranged. Charlie and Patience have taken care of most of the volunteers. I’m picking up the supplies tomorrow. We’re starting at eight on Saturday morning.”
“At the warehouse?”
He nodded. “We have a big workspace. If everyone who says he’s coming does, we’re going to need it.” He paused. “Your brothers will be there.”
She looked at him. “Your doing?”
“Maybe.”
She wanted to say she didn’t need them, that she would be fine on her own. But the truth was, she didn’t know anything about refurbishing sets for a production. She needed help, and she would be grateful for anyone who showed up.
“Thank you,” she told him.
“You mean that?”
“Nearly.”
He laughed and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Close enough. I gotta go. See you Saturday?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
EVIE MANAGED TO hang on to the post-kiss tingles during her walk home. A trick, considering the temperature had to be close to freezing. There were plenty of stars in the sky, but the next storm would bring snow to Fool’s Gold.
Still, despite the occasional shiver, she felt warm inside. Or maybe just quivery. There was something about a man who knew how to kiss. No doubt Dante had plenty of practice with the women in his life. Something she should remember to keep herself safe. In the meantime, she would enjoy the anticipation.
As she turned onto her street, she noticed there were more decorations on the various houses and townhomes. Lights on roof lines, and plastic snowmen and Santas on lawns. By contrast, Dante’s place was completely dark and hers only had a few flameless candles in the front windows. Maybe she should find out about getting some lights for the front window and maybe a wreath for her door.
As she walked up to the porch, she glanced next door. Obviously Dante wasn’t home yet. She wondered how late he was going to work and wished they had the kind of relationship where she could simply call and invite him over for dinner. Not that she had anything to eat. Still, they could get takeout. Maybe Chinese.
She went inside and flipped on lights. After hanging up her jacket, she hit the switch for the gas fireplace, then waited for the whoosh as it started up. She wandered into the kitchen, already knowing there was nothing to eat, and wondered why ordering takeout for one didn’t sound as exciting as when it was for two.
