Shall We Dance?

by Lynn Patrick

“My parents’ divorce made me careful,” he admitted, switching on the radio that was sitting on the tiled counter and tuning in to a jazz station.

  “I can understand how what happened to your parents would affect you,” Gabby said. “My grandmother was divorced when it wasn’t that common. Mom always claimed that affected her attitude toward marriage, too.”

  Kit rinsed out a couple of fluted glasses, then popped the cork on the champagne. Gabby watched as the golden wine fizzed and bubbled when he poured out generous servings. He handed Gabby a glass and lifted his own for a toast.

  “To us.”

  “To us,” she repeated. “The best dance team in the country!”

  “How about the western hemisphere?” He smiled, his straight teeth flashing against his tan, the effect augmented by the brilliant white of his pleated shirt and satin bow tie. “Those Argentinians ought to take note. We do a mean tango.”

  We do, Gabby thought, downing her whole glass of champagne in one gulp. The bubbles tickled all the way to her stomach and warmed her cheeks.

  Needing a bit of air, Gabby wandered into the adjoining dining area, halting before the partially open sliding doors that led out to the deck. Below, on the beach, whitecaps glowed in the moonlight, giving the dark setting an ethereal beauty.

  Kit followed with the champagne and stopped behind her.

  “Let me.” His warm voice flowed through her as he refilled her glass.

  “Thanks,” she said, watching his reflection in the sliding door.

  “Are you hungry? Would you like some cheese?” he asked. “Some healthy Californian multigrain chips?”

  They both laughed, Gabby liking the way Kit’s eyes were warmed by his smile. He reached over and slid the deck door all the way open, inviting the sounds and smell of the ocean inside.

  “Can I ask you something?” Gabby said.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “Did you ever want fame?” she asked.

  “I’ve never wanted to be a movie star.”

  “Not even in your daydreams?”

  “When I was younger, I did,” he finally conceded, then looked as if he were sorry he’d made the admission.

  Kit returned to the kitchen, where he set down the bottle and his glass, then removed his tie and loosened the top buttons of his shirt.

  “But if you want,” he murmured, taking her in his arms, “we can pretend we’re in a movie now.”

  Gabby’s “Why not?” was breathless.

  They danced around the huge expanse of floor still bare of its area rug as it had been during their rehearsals. Anchoring one hand at the small of Gabby’s back, Kit let the other arm dangle and brush against her.

  His expression was intense, his gaze hypnotic. As always when she danced, Gabby was drawn deep into another world.

  Kit pulled Gabby closer and stroked her hair.

  “I knew we’d be good together.”

  “Perfect partners in every way,” she agreed.

  “More than that. Deeper—”

  “Ssh.”

  Gabby kissed Kit to stop him from bringing up anything too serious. If he did, she’d have to admit she loved him and worry about whether he loved her, too. And what good would that do, considering they’d part in little more than a week as soon as the job at Cheek to Cheek was over?

  At least they could have tonight, Gabby told herself, determined to savor whatever happiness was offered her as they danced together in the beach house, lost in their own private movie.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, Gabby arrived at Kit’s place to find a youngish man with glasses and a ponytail lounging against the kitchen counter, talking to Kit. She looked at her watch, assuming she must be early for the brunch date Kit had insisted on when she’d said she needed to go back to the mansion and sleep. It had been a beautiful night with Kit—she’d hardly been able to tear herself away.

  “My backers are committed,” the man was saying to Kit. “This project’s going to fly.”

  “And you’re making the final decisions on casting, hmm?”

  Casting? The word immediately caught Gabby’s attention. She moved closer to get a better look at the man Kit was talking to.

  He, in turn, spotted her. “Ah, if it isn’t Gabrielle Brooks Lacroix.”

  He knew her?

  “Great. I’ll get a chance to talk to Gabrielle, too.” He stepped forward to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m Luke Sheffield. I saw your show last night. You were really incredible.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the performance.”

  “Ever had any acting experience?”

  She gave Kit a questioning look, but his expression remained impassive. “A little, on Broadway.”

  “Excellent. I bet you had some singing lessons, too.”

  Gabby nodded. “I can carry a tune. What are you leading up to, anyway?”

  Luke laughed. “I appreciate directness.” He glanced at Kit. “As I was telling your partner here, I’m an independent producer and I’m making a movie about a dance team in the thirties. After catching your act at Cheek to Cheek last night, I thought you two would be perfect. You’re a bit older than the characters as I envisioned them, but I’ve decided a few years aren’t that important.”

  Paying no attention to the remark about age—coming from someone who must be all of twenty-eight—Gabby focused on the good part.

  “You’re producing a movie? And you want us to act in it?” In major roles if she had heard correctly.

  “You’ll dance, act, sing.”

  Gabby felt like singing right now. “Why that’s wonderful!” she enthused, bouncing over to her partner to grasp his hand. “Isn’t it, Kit?”

  He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze, though he didn’t seem excited. “I’m flattered.”

  “Once you read the script, you’ll love it,” Luke told them.

  “I’m sure we will,” Gabby agreed.

  Unless the movie was a real loser, she already knew what her answer would be. This was the sort of chance she’d only dreamed of when she’d agreed to come to L.A.

  Luke pushed at his glasses. “And we’ll have to set up contracts and hash over money matters and such. My people will negotiate with your people.” He opened the leather bag he was carrying and tried to balance it on his knee. “I’ve got two scripts in here somewhere.”

  Gabby suddenly realized they were all standing around. Surely Kit wouldn’t mind if she were hospitable.

  “Why don’t you have a seat at the table, Luke, where you’ll be more comfortable?” She wanted to hear every detail of his proposal. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Thanks, but I have to be going.” Finally locating the scripts, the young producer handed thick binders to Gabby and Kit, who immediately set his down on the counter. Then Luke reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out his card. “Call me after you look over the material.”

  “We certainly will,” Gabby promised.

  “Real nice to meet you.” Luke shook both their hands. “I hope things will work out between us. This movie should be a winner.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Kit told the other man as he showed him to the door.

  Gabby was busily leafing through her copy of the script when he rejoined her. “The movie’s called Tango—isn’t that appropriate?”

  “Sounds like a good title for a dance movie.” He took hold of her shoulders and moved her into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

  She grinned. “Sure. Are we eating here? Wait, don’t tell me—you cook?”

  “Of course. Eggs and bacon?” he asked. He took the script from her hands and laid it on the counter beside his. Then he enfolded her in his arms. “I haven’t so much as gotten a good-morning kiss yet.”

  She kissed him but became uncomfortable quickly. Kissing in the cold, clear light of morning was far too real. She already knew she would suffer emotionally when they had to part; she didn’t want her heart to be completely and utterly br
oken.

  A little voice whispered, But what if we don’t have to part?

  She was relieved when he finally raised his head to gaze at her.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you,” she said, leaning back to put a few inches between them. Then she brought up the subject she really wanted to discuss. “Isn’t it fabulous that we’ve been offered movie roles? Aren’t you excited?”

  He had to realize making the movie would keep them together much longer than they originally thought, she rationalized. Perhaps she’d even find a way to stay in California permanently. Near Kit.

  “I’m not terribly excited, no.” He let go of Gabby and turned to the counter to switch on the coffee maker.

  She was concerned by his negative remark. “Does Luke Sheffield have a bad reputation? Do you know something I don’t?”

  Kit shrugged. “He’s legit. But it really doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.”

  “Not interested? This could be our big chance.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. One movie doesn’t assure anyone a career in Hollywood. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you sound a little naive.”

  “I’m not naive,” she said testily. “I’ve worked on Broadway.”

  “Working in the movies can easily start and end with one role.”

  “One leading role is more than I’ve ever been offered. Besides, you have to take risks if you want to get somewhere.” And they had the opportunity of getting somewhere together, she thought. “Why on earth wouldn’t you want to try this?”

  “I’m no actor or singer. And despite this act we’re doing together, I’m no longer a professional dancer.”

  “You could be if you admitted the truth to yourself,” Gabby insisted. “You would never have agreed to dance and to take so much time out from your business if you hadn’t wanted to do it.” Thinking about his other objection, she added, “Your father wasn’t strong in the acting or singing departments, either, but his dancing made up for it.”

  Kit’s hand froze as he set the coffee can on the shelf. “My father?”

  Oh-oh, now she’d waved the red flag.

  “My job is running the Garfield Corporation,” he stated firmly.

  Gabby wanted to tear her hair out. Because of some stupid competition phobia he had about his father, Kit was going to let a career opportunity slip right through his fingers, not to mention rip it out of hers at the same time. Furthermore, he was eliminating the possibility of working together and seeing each other in the future. Surely he knew she’d have to go back to New York when their stint at the club was through. She felt as if she were in the throes of a nightmare.

  Unwilling to be so easily dissuaded, she made one last try. “But when I first got here this morning, I heard you and Luke talking, and you sounded interested.”

  “I was only asking questions because I’ve been considering expanding the corporation by adding a film production company.”

  “And wouldn’t acting in a movie be good experience for you as an owner?” she pointed out.

  “Not particularly. It isn’t the same thing.” He poured them both a mug of coffee, handed her one and turned to the refrigerator. “Did you say you wanted orange juice? Fresh or frozen?”

  “Neither at the moment. I’ve changed my mind.” She didn’t even feel like drinking the coffee. She clung to the cup numbly. “You won’t even consider making the movie?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t you think I could have tried my fortune with the movies a long time ago if that’s what I wanted? With my mother’s connections?”

  “And your father’s.” Neither of which option Gabby had. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Last night you admitted you dreamed about being a star when you were younger. But you couldn’t stand being compared to Price, so you even danced under an alias. And you’ve made it perfectly clear that you set out to succeed in an area he didn’t care about.”

  “Look,” Kit said tightly, “if you want to take the role in Sheffield’s production, go ahead.”

  “Luke won’t want me solo. He wants a dance team.”

  “He didn’t say that. You could get another partner.”

  Gabby was hurt by the very suggestion. “I could never find another who was as good as you.”

  “Oh, come now.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, but she moved away.

  “In my opinion, you’re being stubborn and selfish.”

  His eyes hardened. “Because I won’t do what you want?”

  “Because you’re lying to yourself. You’re passing up a chance in a million and forcing me to pass on it, too.”

  Now he really looked angry. “What’s going on here, anyway?”

  “I’m reacting to your unreasonableness.”

  She couldn’t believe that he would turn down a done deal. No one could dance the way he did and not love it. He just wasn’t making sense.

  Kit went on. “What’s important to you? How can you ignore what’s happened between us, how we feel about each other?”

  Thinking that Kit might be trying to tell her he cared, Gabby softened for a moment. But then she took a mental step back and wondered if he expected her to give up her life in New York and hang around L.A. just to be near him. Fat chance.

  “We never made any declarations,” she said coolly.

  “You’re being pretty self-centered here, Gabby.”

  “I’m self-centered? Because I don’t see things your way?” She banged the mug down on the table and picked up her copy of the script. “I’m leaving.”

  “Wait.” He stepped in her path as she tried to escape. “You don’t have time to go back to Lucille’s.”

  “I have plenty of time.” She clutched the script to her chest tightly. “It’s nine-thirty in the morning. We won’t be performing until eight this evening.”

  “But we need to do a cleanup rehearsal this afternoon. We were out of sync a couple of times last night.”

  “Nobody even noticed. Besides, what do you care? You’re not a professional dancer!” She flounced past him, heading for the bathroom. “I’m not going to rehearse today. And I’m not going to be driven mad by your perfectionism.” Or his selfishness. “You can practice by yourself.”

  “Gabby!”

  But she slammed the bathroom door and locked it, taking a deep breath. Sunlight filtered through the skylight, glimmering off the fronds of the huge fern hanging underneath. The atmosphere was meant to be tranquil. She felt anything but. And now she was going to have to find a taxi to take her back to Beverly Hills, or phone Lucille and ask her to send the car back. Embarrassing.

  Meanwhile, Kit continued cooking the brunch he had planned for them. The activity made him feel only a little less frustrated and angry, but he was resolved to remain calm. Gabby was behaving irrationally enough for both of them. Having gotten it into her head that she wanted a movie role, she was obviously willing to sacrifice everything else for it, including a relationship with him.

  Shades of Anita Brooks and Price Garfield!

  Was there a curse on their parents that had filtered down to them? Kit realized he’d shown very poor judgment by getting involved with Anita’s daughter in the first place. Perhaps she was the ambitious sort of woman who would stop at nothing to reach the top. Maybe she’d even thought she could make some connections through him and was now disappointed.

  Appalled at the very thought, Kit wondered if she might have been pretending to have feelings for him to further her goals.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening got his attention, and he found Gabby gazing around as if searching for something.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I want the number for a taxi.”

  One look at her angry if open and appealing face made him reject the worst of his paranoid suspicions. Canny at sizing people up, he surely would have known if she were a blatant, callous user. And she had a heart—she’d certainly gone out of her way to be kind to Lucille and her boarders. So
what was wrong with him that he was ready to jump to such a ridiculous conclusion?

  “You won’t need to call a taxi,” he told her gruffly. “I’ll drive you to Beverly Hills.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “You mean you aren’t going to try to lock me up here and make me rehearse?”

  “If you’re adamant about not going over the dances again, then we’ll have to forgo them.”

  “I guess when you work with a partner, the individuals don’t always get to do what they want.”

  Meaning he wouldn’t agree to act in the movie. Lord, the woman could be irritating.

  Keeping his tongue in check, Kit simply asked, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer I take a taxi?”

  Obviously she didn’t want to spend more time with him than necessary. “It would cost a fortune, and it would take forever. If I take you, you’ll be more rested.”

  She grimaced and muttered, “I should have known you’d have your own reasons.”

  They left a few minutes later. Quiet and pensive, Gabby leaned toward the window on the passenger side of the car as if to put as much distance as possible between them. Kit only hoped her attitude would improve before their performance that night.

  HAPPY THAT SHE WOULD be able to avoid Lucille’s sharp eyes, Gabby used her key and sneaked up the mansion’s staircase undetected. When she reached the suite she was sharing with her mother, however, she opened the door and found Anita sitting in a chair and riffling through a magazine.

  Her mother peered at Gabby over her reading glasses. “You’re back already?”

  Gabby didn’t want the older woman to know the extent of her involvement with Kit, especially since she herself was so disapproving of Anita’s relationship with Kit’s father. The last thing she wanted to do was admit all that had happened between them.

  She thought fast. “Our brunch plans changed, that’s all.”

  Anita frowned. “Are you all right? You look upset.”

  “I’m fine. I promise.” Without thinking, she threw the script onto an end table.

  Anita stared at the binder. “What’s that?”

  Discouraged, Gabby hadn’t even considered telling her mother about the offer. “It’s a script for a movie called Tango.” Again she felt resentment toward Kit. “We were approached by an independent producer who wants to cast us in the leads.”