Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He relaxed into his seat, watching Ellie take the dancers through steps. He glanced at the scorecard he and the other judges would use to rank the dancers, then compare them to Ellie’s notes. Those with the top scores at the end of the day would be called back for another audition. Darla wouldn’t need her scorecard. She’d know every dancer and their strengths with incredible exactness.

  Ellie was about to dismiss the third group forty-five minutes later, when Kat called out, “Wait! Wait! Ellie, hold on a minute.”

  Jason smiled, not even needing to turn around to know she was running down the aisle. “It’s Kat,” Darla said, glancing behind her and then at him, narrowing her gaze. “You knew she was here.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Kat!” Ellie yelled into her mic. “Well, yeehaw!” Ellie stepped to the edge of the stage right as Kat stopped beside the judges’ table. She reached over him, the sweet scent of woman—his woman, or she would be again if he had anything to say about it—teased his nostrils. Damn, he wanted her.

  “Can you have this group run the routine once more, please?” Kat asked.

  Ellie grinned. “If it gets you one step closer to getting your backside up here, then sure thing.”

  Darla and Lana waved at Kat. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

  “Does this mean we get to keep you?” Darla asked.

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “Does it mean we—” translate he “—get to keep you?”

  Kat gave him an incredulous look. “You didn’t tell them?”

  “No,” Darla said. “He didn’t tell us. Did you take the job?”

  “No,” Kat said. “I appreciate your eagerness but I’m observing while I try to figure out a bit of a conflict before the Monday deadline for me to make a decision.” Her gaze touched Jason’s. She still had her backpack over her shoulder, as if she was ready to bolt. “This doesn’t mean I’m in.”

  “You’re just a very hands-on observer,” he teased, glancing at her skintight leggings and tank top, and the long braid down her back that she wore when she worked. All of which said that she’d come to dance.

  She grimaced and motioned between her and him. “You and I need to talk.”

  He leaned into the microphone. “Give us ten, Ellie.” He stood up and faced her, lowering his voice for her ears only. “At your beck and call. I always am. You should know that by now.” He was all about talking, and he’d like to start with what had happened the last time they were together, but he knew better. Not only was there no time now, but she ran then, and if he pushed too hard she’d run now. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “I didn’t mean this second,” she said. “Later.”

  God, she was beautiful with her hair pulled back, her blue eyes luminous against her pale, perfect skin. “Fine, then,” he said softly. “We’ll talk later.”

  She opened her mouth and shut it, then shoved her backpack at him. “Tell Ellie to go ahead,” she said, and turned away, but not before he saw the panic in her face.

  She was afraid of getting hurt, and so was he. But they couldn’t go on like this either. They were together, and before he let her get away, they were either saying goodbye for good, or she was putting his ring back on her finger forever. And if he had to kiss every last inch of her a couple dozen times over to get her to let down her walls—well, it was a tough job, but he was the man to do it, and do it right.

  3

  JASON SAT BACK down and settled Kat’s bag in the empty seat next to him before he spoke into the microphone. “We’re a go, Ellie.”

  “Do you want to sit down, Kat?” Darla asked, leaning forward. “I can get you a score sheet.”

  “I’ll stand,” Kat said, “but thank you.” The music started and Kat’s full attention was riveted on the stage she’d soon be on, he was certain.

  The dancers began their performance, but Jason watched Kat, her expression focused on the dancers. He could see her mentally pacing the routine, analyzing, thinking and rethinking. The music stopped and Ellie turned to see what Kat wanted her to do now.

  Kat squatted down next to Jason, losing her balance and grabbing his leg, scorching it with her hand. The woman had far too much control over him, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. He’d done his own share of running, but it had been over for a long time.

  Their eyes met and he saw her swallow hard. The touch, the connection, shook her, and it damn sure shook him. She moved her hand to the empty seat next to him.

  “How did you rate number seven?” she asked.

  He didn’t have to look at the scorecard. He hadn’t rated many in this group well. “Poorly.” He leaned back so that he could talk to Darla with Kat involved. “What did you do on number seven?”

  “I marked her as a no,” Darla said, after glancing at her clipboard. “Cute little blonde thing that screams of sugar and spice, but she doesn’t know it yet. She’s just not ready for this.”

  “Ditto,” Lana said, leaning forward to join the conversation. “I love how she looks angelic and still has tattoos. It’s that sugar and spice thing, but she doesn’t deliver the promise of her first impression.” She sighed. “And I’m agreeing with Darla way too much. I’ll have to fix that before the show starts.”

  Jason studied Kat a moment. “I know you. You see something in her. Go do your thing. Save her.”

  She hesitated only an instant. “This doesn’t mean I’m in.” And then she was up, heading to the stage.

  He laughed. She was so “in” and they both knew it.

  “Just what exactly is your relationship with Kat?” Lana asked, ever the nosy one.

  Jason had no intention of hiding his relationship with Kat, but he wanted everyone to see she was so special before he explained. He already knew. “My relationship with Kat isn’t what matters,” he said, motioning toward the stage. “Her skill is. Watch her and you’ll agree.”

  Jason turned his attention to Kat, watching her put on a headset.

  “Okay,” she said the instant she had sound, to the group of twenty dancers, ten male and ten female. “One more time and make it good. Number seven, front row.” The young girl gaped, looking stunned and frightened rather than excited by the notice. Jason didn’t see what Kat saw in the girl, but he trusted her judgment.

  The music started and Kat watched a minute, focused on number seven, and he smiled as she started to sway, slowly easing into the routine. Suddenly, she turned and stepped into the row of females, just slightly behind number seven. And his little KandyKat danced like she’d practiced the routine a million times. She was nothing shy of spectacular.

  Darla and Lana both leaned forward to look at Jason. “What have I missed?” Darla asked.

  “Yeah,” Lana agreed. “Has Kat been working with Ellie the past few days and we weren’t told?”

  “Nope,” Jason said, his words laced with the pride he’d always felt for Kat’s skill. “Kat has this unreal, almost freaky ability to watch a routine and then perform it perfectly.” Yet, she couldn’t remember their hotel name, he added silently with a private smile. Of course, neither had he.

  “Wow,” Darla said. “She is just…wow.”

  “I’m officially impressed,” Lana said. “And I don’t impress easily.”

  Ellie stood on the sidelines and gave a thumbs-up sign to Jason.

  Jason settled back in his seat to enjoy the show. “You ladies haven’t seen half of what she’s about yet.”

  “Stop!” Kat yelled into her headset and walked to number seven, flipping her mic away from her mouth and settling her hands on the girl’s shoulders. The girl listened in earnest and then Kat flipped her mic back and said, “Everyone stand aside except for me and number seven.” She glanced at the girl and smiled. “I mean Shannon.” The dancers split half to one side of the stage and half to the other. Kat signaled and the music started again. She gave Shannon a nod.

  Shannon started dancing and Kat watched all of twenty seconds. “Face me,” she ordered, taking Shannon
by the shoulders again, but she didn’t turn off the mic this time. “If you stop now you’re going home. Is that what you want?” The girl shook her head. “You’re letting fear beat you. I know skill when I see it but I can’t do this for you. You have to deliver.” Kat stepped back and started dancing. The girl joined her and Kat shouted, “Attitude. Give me attitude.”

  Jason smiled as suddenly Kat and that young girl owned the stage, and with every step Shannon transformed. Kat was gorgeous, a goddess on that stage. No one who ever met her and worked with her understood why she wanted to be behind the camera, not in front of it. But he did. Kat loved to dance, but ultimately saving number seven defined who she was as a person. She loved mentoring. She loved helping people achieve their dreams.

  Darla leaned close to Jason. “Ah, Jason?” She pointed to the male dancer making a lewd gesture to another male dancer that seemed to have something to do with Kat’s stellar backside. And it was stellar. “You want to go kick that kid’s ass or do you want me to?”

  “Neither,” Jason said, knowing his Kat all too well. “Kat can handle herself.” And she’d be ticked if he didn’t let her anyway. He’d barely made the confident declaration when Kat did exactly what he’d expected. She handled it. Taking the kid off guard, and proving she was ever-aware of her dancers, she stopped dancing and turned suddenly, walking up to the male dancer. She got up close, toe to toe with him.

  Jason laughed, “And here comes the fun. Kat runs a tight ship. She’s fair but tough.”

  “You see something you like?” Kat demanded of the kid with her microphone loud and clear for all to hear.

  “Ah, yeah,” the kid said. And he was a kid. Maybe eighteen or nineteen with dark curly hair and dark skin tones.

  “Try again,” Kat said.

  “Ah, no?” he asked.

  “That sounded like a question. I’m looking for an answer. The right answer.”

  “No, ma’am!” he shouted so even the judges heard loud and clear. “No, I do not.”

  Lana and Darla burst out laughing. “Oh, she so has to take this job,” Darla insisted. “You have to sign her, Jason.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Kat said to the kid. “Because, you see, this is a professional stage. My girls have to put on skimpy costumes and trust the male dancers who have their hands all over them. This isn’t a night club.”

  “She said ‘my girls,’” Darla whispered.

  “Yeah,” Jason said with satisfaction. “I heard.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the boy shouted. “I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again.”

  “You’re going to have to dance like Michael Jackson at this point not to get sent home. In fact…” Kat glanced over her shoulder. “Ellie?”

  “Coming right up,” Ellie said, choking on laughter with her mic still on.

  A few seconds later, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” started to play and Kat motioned the boy forward. He hesitated for a tenth of a second and then moved to center stage, where he proceeded to dance his backside off. The kid was good—very good.

  Kat and Ellie let him dance for a solid two minutes before she held up a hand and stopped the music. She and Ellie whispered to each other, careful to cover their mouth pieces, before Kat said, “That was Michael in diapers. Give us grown-up Michael tomorrow or you’re out.”

  “I’m returning?” he asked, looking stunned.

  “Yes,” Kat said. “And don’t make us sorry.”

  The kid slid on his knees to Kat’s feet and bowed. “Thank you. Thank you. I won’t make you sorry. I promise.”

  “Get out of here before I change my mind,” she teased with a smile and then turned to Shannon. “And you go home and practice being a diva in the mirror.”

  “I’m coming back?” Shannon asked, and yelped with joy when Kat confirmed. She raced forward and hugged Kat.

  “Everyone else will get your fate at the end of the day,” Ellie announced, and sent everyone, Shannon included, on their way.

  Kat and Ellie both flipped their microphones aside and put their heads together in a short conversation before Kat headed toward the stairs.

  Jason’s cell buzzed with a text. He quickly replied to Kat’s agent, telling Michael that yes, she was here, and he was working on making that permanent.

  “Uh-oh.” Darla laughed from beside him. “I think you’re in trouble, Jason.”

  “You two so have a past,” Lana said. “I can smell it a mile away.”

  Jason jerked his gaze upward at the comments to find Kat headed their way, or rather his way, with her gaze fixed intently on him. Oh yeah, he was in trouble. She’d apparently been thinking about more than dancing on that stage, because she was fired up. He could almost feel the heat of flames crackling off her. That kid wasn’t the only one leaving here busted. Jason had to hope this ended as well for him as it had for the kid: with a second chance. Okay, in his case, maybe more like a third or fourth. But this was going to be the one he made count.

  4

  KAT WAS FURIOUS—at herself and at Jason. They both knew what would happen if she came here today, yet he’d baited her and she’d let him. Now it was done. She was attached to the show and she was going to get hurt again. He was going to hurt her again. And she’d lose him and the show in one short season. Why would he want to put either of them through that?

  Jason stood up as she neared. “I’m guessing it’s time for that talk?”

  She gave a nod and he motioned her toward the backstage exit. “Should we keep going?” Darla asked.

  Jason arched a brow at Kat. “Yes,” she said. “Go ahead. I don’t want to back things up.” Her gaze returned to Jason. “I need to deal with my conflict once and for all.”

  “My exact thoughts,” he agreed, motioning her to the right, to a path that led behind the stage.

  Her chest tightened and she clung to her anger. If she was angry, she wasn’t turning to melted chocolate in the man’s hands. No, a voice in her head reminded. That always came after the anger. But she always, always turned to melted chocolate.

  Side by side, they walked past the stage and around it, then down to a sunken hallway that had doors. “This way,” he said, indicating the rows of doors and opening one of them, letting her enter first.

  Kat found herself in a small costume room. Racks of clothes pressed in on either side of her. No, it wasn’t even a small room. It was a closet, and the tiny space set her on edge. Maybe this had been a bad idea. A small room, alone with Jason and a closed door.

  She whirled on him the minute he shut the door. “You knew what would happen if I came here today and I told you I can’t do this thing with us again. I can’t. If I take this job then it has to be work only.”

  He leaned against the wall. “If that’s what you want.”

  She swallowed hard and leaned against the opposite wall, still so close that only a few steps separated them. “That was too easy.” She studied him. “Damn it, Jason. I know you. ‘If that’s what you want’ translates to you planning to change what I want but not until I’ve signed a contract.” He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her with those gorgeous, intense eyes, and she pushed, “No reply?”

  “I think I was pretty clear. As long as that’s what you want, that’s how it will be. The fact that I’m leaning against this door, when I want to be over there with you, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow, should prove I mean it. This job has your name written all over it. And since we’re in Vegas, I’m going to say that you coming home right when we were casting and looking for a choreographer says it’s in the cards. You were meant to be here. We were meant to be here. I believe that so strongly that if I have to agree to keep this all business to get you to take the job, I will. But don’t think for one minute that I won’t be hoping you’ll give me the opportunity to change your mind.”

  Her skin prickled with awareness and a part of her screamed—convince me now—while another wanted to dart for the door he was blocking.

  “You think t
hat’s the answer I’m looking for? You think that makes this an easy decision for me?”

  “It’s the only answer I have. You know me. I’m straight up. Take the job, Kat. Do this one last thing for me, for us, and I swear I will never ask you to do anything for me ever again.”

  For him. His plea shouldn’t matter, but it did. God, she still loved this man. And she knew he loved her. She did. Where they were concerned, love always hurt, and she didn’t know if she could live through it again. But then, she never seemed to move on from it, or from him, either.

  “What do we tell the cast and crew?”

  “That you took the job.”

  “About us, Jason.”

  “Why do we have to tell them anything?”

  “Someone will find out.”

  “Do you really care?” he asked. “Because I don’t, Kat.”

  “I don’t want anyone thinking I slept my way into this job. I have six weeks to get a show audience-ready. I need respect.”

  “One hour with you, and you’ll have their respect,” he assured her, “but I understand. You know I’ll respect your wishes. We’ve known each other since college. Old friends, both from Vegas.”

  “The tour,” she said. “I’m not thrilled with being on the road again. I need a home, a solid foundation.”

  “Three months and that’s it,” he said. “And if Stepping Up continues to a fourth season, we can negotiate the tour out of your contract.”