by Angel Smits
Way to rationalize.
She set her beer down and turned to watch the dancers. This group was nothing like the class had been. This bunch definitely knew what they were doing.
Still she was eager to join the fun. Over the next couple of hours he wasn’t her only partner, and many of the dances didn’t require a partner at all. And Lauren tried them all, barely taking a break.
When she finally slumped back into her seat and finished the last of her most-likely warm beer, he left the rest of his beer untouched. He needed to stay clearheaded since he was the driver. But there was another reason to remain sober—the realization of how much more he wanted from tonight beyond dancing.
Lauren looked over at him and made the sign for dance. Then put her fingertips against her palm. It took him a second to remember that meant “again.”
She was asking him to go back out again? Already? This song was slower. Did she realize that? It’d be easier for a beginner, but it was a waltz.
He stood and let her take his hand. She led him to a miniscule spot in the center of the dancers and lifted her arms.
Slowly, she looked up at him, and for the first time, he felt the difference in their height. He was right at six feet, shorter than his brothers, but taller tonight as he was wearing boots.
She couldn’t be much over five feet. She seemed small beside him, something he hadn’t noticed before. Hadn’t felt before.
He swallowed. She might dance on a daily basis, coming into close physical contact with the other dancers, her students and the like. But he was an attorney. The closest he came to physical contact was when his assistant handed him files.
Lauren smiled at him, ready to dance, and he pushed his discomfort aside to slide his arms around her slim waist. She didn’t lean into him, but balanced carefully in the circle of his embrace.
He nodded, silently signaling that they were beginning. And they moved around the floor with all the others. He marveled at the beat of the drum and the bass, but was also suddenly aware of the boot-stomping accompaniment in the soles of his feet.
Lauren didn’t need to hear the music, and for the first time, neither did he. He could feel it, sense it vibrating around him. Was this what she experienced whenever she danced? The look on her face told him that yes, this was her norm. Her sweet norm.
Jason watched her move. The grace she wore was like a mask. Was there something behind it? She let herself fall into the music, let the dance take control. He marveled at her.
He’d been foolish to think that the ballet dancer wouldn’t be as graceful in a field of rowdy, boot-stomping cowboys. Yet he had. And she’d proven him wrong.
Images of the first night he’d seen her on the stage came back. The beauty of her performance had amazed him then, but this eclipsed even that. Unfortunately, that memory also brought back the reason why he’d been there. Pal. Her father. The file.
He stumbled and Lauren followed his lead, falling against his chest. He caught her, and while the others moved around them, they stopped. Frozen.
Her face shone in the dancing lights. Her lips turned up into a smile, her eyes bright. She was in love with the moment. He hated to see it end.
But her unspoken invitation had to go unanswered. Too public, he rationalized.
He stepped back, then headed to their table.
“Time to go?” She pointed at her wrist, then the door, silently asking the question he didn’t want to answer. He nodded and waved the harried waitress over to settle their tab.
Once outside, the air felt muggy and at least a dozen degrees cooler. He could still hear the band’s blaring music, but he could no longer feel it. Did music stop suddenly like that for her? His sense of unfairness reared its ugly head but he tamped it down.
At the car, Lauren waited for him to unlock the door and let him open it for her—let him take care of her.
Once he’d climbed behind the wheel and started the car, he reached for the radio dial, but froze when her hand covered his. She pulled his hand back and shook her head.
“Can we talk?” she signed.
“A-b-o-u-t?” The glow of the streetlights washed over them from outside. He could see her, so he knew she could see enough to read his lips.
“Was this a...d-a-t-e?”
He stared at her, understanding her words but not sure how to answer. “I think so.” He paused, shook his head as he looked out the windshield, before turning back to her. “Do you want it to be?”
She nodded. “You?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t lie. He’d never met anyone like her, and he wanted more. Words filled his mind, few that he knew sign for. Long seconds of silence filled the car as his frustration grew. She frowned, as if expecting him to say—or do—something more.
He could talk and she’d read his lips, but he couldn’t even begin to understand her. He felt so inadequate.
Frustrated, he reached for the wheel and pulled away from the curb. He didn’t look at her, didn’t encourage her to sign. Didn’t let her read his lips.
He hoped that by the time they reached her place he’d figure out what to say—and how to say it.
Jason knew the way to her townhouse well. He knew that in less than half an hour, they’d reach her home and she’d disappear inside. Again.
The car flew through the darkened night, even with the thick traffic. She leaned back against the leather seat, her eyes closed, a hint of a smile lingering.
This time as he drove, he took the opportunity to study her. The sense of awe inspired by tonight reminded him of how he’d felt that night with Pal.
His gaze flicked back and forth between her face and the streets. Her hair had come loose again and he liked it that way, falling in ruffled curls past her shoulder, pooling on her forearm that rested on the console. Her eyes were closed, the lids shining with a color he recalled was a smoky gray. The contrast to her pale skin was dramatic enough to catch his attention.
At the bottom of the exit ramp, the sound of a car horn startled him. He refocused on the road, disappointed to see the dull concrete and asphalt of the city in front of him.
Another couple of blocks, temptation beckoned and he let his eyes turn to the side again, hoping to find her still relaxed. Instead, he found her eyes wide, watching him with that smoky gaze. Heat rose on the back of his neck and he nearly jerked the wheel too far to the left as he yanked his gaze back to the road. He forced himself to not envision her staring at him, her eyes saying more than any words could...
Her hand, slim and pale, startled him as she touched his arm.
* * *
NO ONE HAD ever tried to understand her like Jason did. Lauren stared at him as the streetlights flashed in even intervals over his face as he drove through the city.
It was a handsome, strong face—the face of a man who didn’t bother looking down at the hurdles. He just strode on over them, headed for the finish line.
She’d thought for an instant there on the dance floor that he was going to kiss her. She’d anticipated it. Why hadn’t he? She’d seen her desire reflected in his eyes.
Jason was essentially a stranger to her—and yet she felt as if she knew him.
When he’d first come to the studio looking for her, Jason had given her a ride home because he’d caused her to miss the bus. The next week when he’d shown up, she’d only been slightly surprised.
He’d driven her home, not speaking or pretending to sign some inane conversation neither of them would understand. He’d given her control of the stereo with a wave of his big hand, just as he had tonight.
She’d turned the dial and found the station she knew so well. The volume had been at five, she’d turned it to eight. At eight she felt the thump and vibration of the music. It was as if her heart grew and encompassed everything and everyone around her.
His approval meant too much to her, but she didn’t know how to change that.
Music was her escape, her sanctuary. She’d never actually heard a single note. Yet she felt each melody. And tonight?
She’d felt more than the music. The undercurrents were thick, especially when she and Jason had waltzed. Had she imagined it? Was the music influencing her? She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from Jason, staring out at the city flying by as the euphoria from the dance faded.
Except he was reflected in the window. Her gaze focused on him, and she couldn’t pull her eyes away from him. An ache grew inside her. Once again, she was on the outside, looking at a world that wasn’t hers. Wishing for something she couldn’t have...
All too soon, they were winding through the darkened streets of her neighborhood. She wanted to drive on forever, watching him; wanted to go back to the dance floor where they’d laughed and had fun together. She didn’t want it—whatever “it” was—to end.
When Jason parked by the curb, he turned off the engine. He stared straight ahead for a long moment. Lauren felt the night settle over them, as the pounding became the one in her heart.
* * *
THE STREETLIGHT ACROSS from Lauren’s door spilled a circle of white that almost reached the curb he parked against.
Jason had barely turned off the engine when Lauren hastily shoved the passenger door open and stepped out. He got out to follow her. She didn’t look back, didn’t even pause, until he gently grabbed her arm.
She froze. He had to step in front of her to catch her gaze. “What’s the matter?” he asked, hoping she could see through the shadows.
She rubbed her chest in the sign for sorry.
“What for?” He felt like a heel. She’d misinterpreted his silence. He was a fool.
“For d-i-s-a-p-p-o-i-n-t-i-n-g you.” Her fingers shook as she pointed to him.
Oh God, no! “I.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, pacing in front of her door. How did he explain? He had to hope she’d understand him. “You never do that.” He didn’t want to spell. He wanted to use words. Full words. “You.” He pointed at her, letting his finger linger in the air. He had to spell. “A-m-a-z-e me.” He slowly touched the center of his chest. He swallowed hard, then reached out to run that same finger down the edge of her chin. “So—” He made the swish around his face that said, beautiful. “Beautiful,” he whispered, wishing she could hear how much he meant it.
He paused, nearly hauling her into his arms. He made sure he faced the streetlight, so she could see his face. “We need to talk. About your father’s will.” He needed to put something, some distance between them. He wasn’t ready for where this was headed. “About so much before—Lauren,” he sighed her name, loving the sound of it.
* * *
LAUREN TILTED HER head to the side, focusing on Jason’s lips, reading his words, but not understanding. Her brain was beyond words.
She read her name on his lips. Saw him lean closer. Felt her breath and heart rush forward to meet him.
Her eyes drifted closed, as his lips, warm and firm, finally found hers. The spicy warm scent of him wrapped around her, pulling her to him. His chest, solid and safe beneath her palms, eased the trembling in her limbs. He made her feel so safe. His arms were a gentle welcome.
Then suddenly, he was gone. He’d pulled back, a frown erasing the smile she’d so enjoyed. “What?” she signed. “Something wrong?”
He didn’t look at her until the Lexus stood between them, the moonlight glinting off its polished frame. Time stretched out. Their eyes caught, and she gasped at the heat staring back at her. Slowly, she shook her head. “Don’t go.” Her fingers made the request as she deepened her frown, needing to deepen the intensity of her words.
Loose curls tumbled over her eyes, and she impatiently shoved them back. “I—” She jabbed a finger hard into her own chest. “Want.” Her hands weren’t enough. She pointed at him then the space before her. “You here.”
He swallowed hard enough for her to see his throat work even in the shadows. He closed his eyes. Instead of reaching for the door handle and climbing into the car, he slowly walked back around the car.
As if something had given way, some resolve or excuse, he was pulling her almost roughly to him, burying his fingers in the curls beside her face. Holding her to kiss her.
He tasted of the night, sweet and cool with an edge. An edge that felt entirely too much like restraint.
Lauren lifted her arms, slipping her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Gently, she urged him closer. His sigh rumbled through her. She trembled, drinking in everything he gave her.
Wanting nothing but more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVERYTHING VANISHED. THE NIGHT. His worry. Her hesitancy. Everything except the taste of her lips and the feel of her against him. Jason pulled her tighter.
Lauren’s arms slid around his neck, and he realized she stood on her tiptoes. She weighed next to nothing, and he could lift her into his arms, but that would move them into a whole new level of intimacy. He ached for it, but not yet.
He stepped back, leaning against the still-warm car, and let her lean into him, resting his chin on the top of her head. He enjoyed the feel of her snuggled against his chest.
There was no way to communicate right now, and he wasn’t sure there were even words made for this. It felt damned near perfect.
Lauren pulled away first, tilting her head to look up at him. The night and shadows caressed her face just as his fingers itched to do. Her gaze never left his as she stepped back, smiling when she took another step, and then another. Still facing him, she backed to her front door.
She waved before she closed it and disappeared inside. Jason stood there, watching the lights come on, imagining what she was doing. Getting ready to go to bed...
“Hell.” He had to get out of there before he did something really stupid.
Like follow her.
* * *
FIRST KISSES ALWAYS scared Lauren. But this one was different. Not forced, like her true first. Not stolen like a few in high school. Definitely not awkward. But right.
Lauren climbed the stairs to her room, intent on going to sleep. She had an early meeting with the ballet company at the theater in regard to the next production. She should be exhausted after a long day and dancing half the night with Jason. But while her body was exhausted, her brain wouldn’t shut off.
What was he thinking? Anything? Had he gone home, falling asleep without a further thought about her? Or was he lying awake, too?
After half an hour of tossing and turning, she threw back the blankets. She had to derail this train of thought.
She powered up her laptop and settled against the pillows. She’d check her email, then if she still couldn’t sleep, maybe play a game or download a new book.
She couldn’t let Jason take over her mind. It had been a date, that’s all, she reminded herself as she clicked the icon for her inbox.
Her email box quickly filled with unread messages. Communications about tomorrow’s meeting. Notes from students—and want-to-be students.
Maxine’s name popped up. Lauren smiled. Her note would be less like a message and more like an old-fashioned letter. Lauren opened it, anticipating a nice read.
Oh darling, please text me when you get this. I am so upset. I need to talk.
Lauren hadn’t checked her phone all evening. She reached for it on the nightstand. She’d missed two messages. They said essentially the same thing as the email.
Her heart pou
nding, Lauren checked the time. Surely Maxine was asleep. Still, if she was upset... Lauren texted Sorry. Missed your calls. Are you awake?
Time stretched out painfully. Had something happened to Maxine? Was she ill? Was Dylan? Or Hudson?
Finally, her phone flashed. Oh, dear. Yes. I may never sleep again.
What happened?
Another friend has passed away. I keep losing people.
Oh, no. Maxine had reached an age where her long-time friends were dying. Illness was more common than not. Already this year, Maxine had lost three friends. “Who?”
“Wakefield.”
Her attorney? Yes, he’d been around a long time, and they did socialize, but this seemed like too strong a reaction, even for Maxine. The last time Lauren had seen him, he hadn’t looked well. This couldn’t be a surprise. What happened?
He’s been sick. Went peacefully in his sleep. I’m devastated.
The drama came to the surface whenever Maxine needed a little extra attention. That wasn’t new, either. Lauren sighed. Want me to come over tomorrow?
Oh, I’d love that. Thank you!
Lunch? Early meeting at the theater, sorry.
Yes. Lunch. Love you.
Love you, too.
The texts ended and Lauren plugged her phone back in. She shut down everything, finally yawning, and slid beneath the covers. Maxine had gotten what she wanted, and now all would be right with the world again. Until the next catastrophe.
While Lauren empathized with Maxine, she had long ago stopped letting herself get too attached to people. Losing her mother so young, losing foster family after foster family, and friend after friend growing up, she’d stopped letting herself care enough to experience that level of loss.
As she drifted off to sleep, faces floated through her mind. Maxine. Dylan. Jason. An hour before her alarm was set to go off, she awoke, cringing at the cool damp of the pillow against her cheek.
She rose to start her day, ignoring the proof from her dreams that she wasn’t so immune after all.
* * *
HUDSON ANSWERED THE door in his usual, distant manner, but Lauren knew he was disturbed. That one tiny line denting his brow was, in Hudson’s existence, a big deal.