Chris remembered when he was fifteen, and he had made the mistake of announcing that he was planning to audition for the part of Tony in their high school production of “West Side Story.” His father had practically disowned him on the spot.
As determined as he was to stand up to his father, the laughter and ridicule his father had subjected him to at the dinner table that evening, in front of his grandparents, two cousins, and an aunt and uncle, had extinguished his desire to star in a musical production. As frustrating as it was not to be on the stage, he had offered his services as a stagehand. He had learned how to change sets and manipulate props without the audience even noticing, and he had learned how to run the lighting. Both skills helped him develop an interest in seeing things from a variety of perspectives. And much to his father’s chagrin, he had also learned how to work a camera. He supposed he should thank his father for contributing to his passion . . . and his career.
Anne tilted her head to the side as if that would help her read his thoughts. He’d drifted away for a while. Where had he gone? “What memories would those be?” she asked.
“Good memories,” he said evasively. “Childhood memories.”
The way he said it made her want to grab him and curl up by a fire somewhere and listen to his soft raspy voice telling her stories of his childhood all night long. Or maybe just part of the night. The rest would be reserved for other activities.
The way she was staring into his eyes told him that she wanted to hear about those memories. She was definitely interested in more than his photographic prowess. “Another time,” he said with the hope that their time for talk would come . . . as well as their time for other things.
She wasn’t moving. She was still staring as if waiting for him to tell her about his youth. It wasn’t until he nodded toward the room filled with expectant students that she seemed to realize that it was time for her first dance class.
She trotted over to the CD player and scooped up the remote.
“Are you okay?” Linda, one of her dance instructors, asked.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re blushing.”
Anne felt her face. “No, I’m not.”
Linda smirked. “Yes, you are. In fact, you’ve been doing a lot of blushing lately, actually any time that hot photographer of yours comes into the room.”
Anne glared at her. “You’re fired.”
Linda laughed and gestured for a group of students to follow her to one of the smaller rooms for their class.
Three hours and two classes later, Anne was surprised that Chris had stuck around. He wasn’t taking pictures. He was just watching. He could have gone to the pub for a beer or the café for a cup of coffee while he waited for Sara, but he had stayed. She was also surprised that Sara was such a passionate dancer. She’d taken the first contemporary dance class that was the perfect level for her and had learned the routines and exercises quickly. And when it was over, she had asked Anne if she could try the more advanced class that followed. Anne had let her, although expecting her to tire out or become discouraged, but the girl had stuck with it with stamina and determination. She was beginning to understand why her uncle was so supportive of her dancing.
And Chris had watched both classes much as a dedicated parent would do. Anne found herself wondering what Sara’s parents were like and if they were as devoted to their daughter as her uncle was.
“What’s next?” Sara asked Anne when the second class ended.
“Nutcracker rehearsal,” Anne told her.
“Can I watch?”
“Absolutely. And maybe you can come to your next class a little early and I’ll start to teach you one of the dances. If it’s okay with your uncle.”
Sara jumped up and down and twirled around and ran across the room to Chris who was helping set up a row of chairs to differentiate backstage from onstage as he’d seen Anne do at the beginning of each rehearsal.
“What are you doing?” Anne asked him after Sara had asked if they could stay.
“Helping.” He had placed the chairs exactly where she would have.
He was serious about working with her backstage. There was not a lot of space backstage. “Uh, why don’t you take some more pictures of the dancers?”
“I have plenty of shots of each student—except Sara, of course. But I’ll wait and get some once she learns her dance. And then I’ll take some more at the dress rehearsal when they’re all in costume, but right now I think it’s time for me to learn what needs to be done backstage. Is there a curtain?”
“You mean is Canden Valley a little hick town or do we actually have a real stage with a curtain and lights and a sound system?”
He chuckled. “Pretty much.”
“Well, be prepared to be impressed.”
“Okay then.”
“So, what can you do?”
“Just about anything.”
Mischief danced in her eyes. “Hair and makeup?”
“Maybe not everything.” He considered volunteering for lighting, but that would put him in a booth far away from her. “I’m excellent with props, and I’m good at cues. I can help the kids get lined up in the right order and give them their entrance cues.” His first choice, considering that it would put him side by side with her.
“That’s what I do.”
“Well, wouldn’t you like to let someone help you so you can relax a little and enjoy the show?”
“I can’t.”
“Maybe if you have someone you can trust to do what you do, you can.”
She shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”
“Maybe not, but it will be good to have a backup person to make sure you don’t miss any cues.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She was always so busy with cues that she missed what was happening on stage. The only problem was, she’d never trusted anyone else with that except her Cousin Kelly, but she needed her on the opposite side of the stage. “You’re really good at it?”
“I am.”
“You’ve had experience?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, then, I’ll let you try it.”
Perfect, Chris thought. He’d be working alongside her. Now he just had to learn the dances well enough so he could convince her that he’d actually done this before. Props, yes, lighting, yes, sound system, yes, curtain, yes. Cues, never.
For the next two hours, Chris studied Anne’s every movement. Not a difficult thing to do. Actually it was pretty much his favorite thing to do. But this time he was memorizing the sequence of dances and the dancers’ entrances. One more rehearsal and he figured he’d have it down. His greatest challenge was keeping his eyes on the performers and not being distracted by the director.
“Do you have to stand so close to me?” Anne whirled around and scowled at him.
He quickly shifted his focus and stepped back. “Uh, sorry. I’m just trying to learn as much as I can.”
“I thought you said you know how to do this,” she accused.
“Every show is different.”
True, but still— Why did he have to stand so damned close to her? The constant brushing of shoulders was enough to do her in, but when she felt his eyes burning a hole right through her, she thought she was going to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. “It would be better if you watched the dancers instead of me.”
“Right,” he said, quickly turning his attention to the dancing mice. From that point on, he tried his best not to stand so close to her or to stare at her, but it was a struggle.
A text message vibrated his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and read it. Kendall, inviting him to a gallery opening. Just friends, she insisted, apparently having taken the hint from his last response to her inquiry. Before he could put away his cell, a second text appeared. This one from Joe. “Haven’t heard from you. Should I assume the worst?”
“Nope. Congratulations are in order,” he typed into his cell. “I’m standing a couple feet from her as we
speak, helping out backstage with her students’ performance.”
A response came back immediately. “Still pathetic, but congratulations.”
He swallowed a chuckle and turned his attention back to his assigned job.
“Well?” Anne asked him once she’d dismissed the dancers who headed for the dressing room to gather their gear. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re amazing,” slipped past his censorship button. He quickly self-corrected, or at least shifted his focus from his personal assessment of her. “You’re not just an incredible dancer and teacher, but an excellent director.”
“Thanks,” she said, bewildered yet again by the man’s admiration of her abilities, yet, despite the obvious chemistry between them, his reluctance to show any affection for her. “So, you think you’re ready to take over?”
Did that mean she was handing him the cueing reins? And that she wouldn’t be working beside him anymore? “If I take over, what will you be doing?”
“I’ll be out front, watching and directing.”
He tried to stifle his scowl, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.
“Isn’t that the point of your helping with cues?” she said.
Was she challenging him here? Testing his confidence in his abilities? “Of course,” he said, “And I’m happy to take over, but I thought we agreed it would be best if two of us handled cues to assure we don’t miss any.”
Anne cringed. Of course he was right, and that was more important than any discomfort she was feeling being around the man. Still— She could only handle so much. She looked up at the clock on the wall as if it would tell her what date it was. But she knew. Her Cousin Kelly wasn’t on winter break yet. “I think for the next few rehearsals, it would be good if you handled it yourself. That way you’ll be forced to learn the cues really well.”
“And after that?” He smiled, thinking she would be back by his side at that point.
“My Cousin Kelly will be on winter break and she’ll be helping me backstage. She can work with you. One of you on each side of the stage.”
Chris stifled a scowl. “I thought you didn’t trust anyone with cues.”
“Only when I’m there, but you convinced me otherwise.”
“Okay, but I think I need to watch you for at least one more rehearsal. Maybe two.”
“Fine,” Anne said, hoping her groan wasn’t too apparent. And that he wouldn’t stand so close to her. And that he wouldn’t look at her like that.
She felt her forehead tighten and thought about that for a minute. Exactly how was he looking at her? Like he was about to grab her and carry her off to his bed? Well, maybe not quite, but he was definitely looking at her as if he was not indifferent. If that was the case, maybe he was interested in her. So, why wasn’t he making a move? Why hadn’t he even asked her out for a cup of coffee?
All she could hope was that it wasn’t her overactive imagination convincing her that he was interested simply because she wanted him to be. Especially because she didn’t. She didn’t want him to want her. Well, okay, she did, but just hypothetically. She didn’t want him acting on it or anything, because that would mean she’d have to act on it too. And she was not about to get into a relationship with a man who made her knees quiver and her heart flutter.
Another exaggeration, she thought. Maybe he did make her knees quiver, but he didn’t do anything to her heart. Still, her hand eased upward to cover that space on her chest as if protecting it. Definitely no fluttering. Just an occasional cartwheel. No big deal. He wasn’t so scary after all. Adorable and sexy maybe, but that was just a physical attraction. She was safe. At least for the moment.
Chapter 8
“Would you like to be a mouse, a soldier, a snowflake, or an angel?”
Chris rested his hand on his niece’s shoulder. “I vote for angel. She’s a natural.”
Sara giggled as she looked up at him. “Uncle Chris!”
“I’m just saying.”
It had been two days since she’d first been to the dance studio, and Sara was excited to be there. Her Uncle Chris had been right. She loved it here. And she loved her new teacher. So much that she wished she could convince her mom to move to Canden Valley. That way she could walk to the dance studio and take lessons every day.
“And your vote?” Anne asked her.
“I’m not sure. Maybe an angel or maybe a snowflake. What do they do?”
Anne nodded her approval. “That’s the right question to ask. Actually the angels don’t do that much. Now, the snowflakes, they get to be individual snowflakes in my version. There’s a choreographed dance and then they get to do a little improvising.”
“Oh! I think I’d like that!”
“I thought you might.”
“Is it okay? I mean, do you have room for another snowflake?”
“Absolutely. You can’t have too many snowflakes.”
“And you really think I can learn the dance in time?”
“If you work hard.” Anne glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Actually, we can start now. We have forty-five minutes until my first class. What do you think?”
Sara couldn’t control herself. She wrapped her arms around Anne’s waist and gave her a giant hug before running off to the changing room.
“She’s adorable,” Anne said.
“Yeah, she is.”
“And she really loves to dance.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“Which is why you’re paying for her lessons.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Anne blinked away the moisture that was forming in her eyes. She didn’t know why she was suddenly feeling emotional. Or why Christopher Newell seemed to bring out all kinds of feelings in her.
“Her parents can’t—?”
“It’s just her mom, my sister, and no, she can’t really afford the lessons Sara deserves.”
Anne felt a slight flutter in her heart. She ignored it and quickly started the music for the snowflake dance. A moment later, Sara appeared, ready to work.
Chris stood back and watched the two of them, taking more than an occasional photograph. He would look at these often, he thought. Two of his favorite people dancing together. Anne had even more patience than he had expected. Sara was doing well, but she kept stumbling over the section of the dance right before the snowflakes went into their improvisation. Anne repeated it several times, and when Sara’s shoulders slumped and frustration creased her forehead, Anne encouraged her and told her that most of the snowflakes had struggled with the same section. Chris had observed enough of their rehearsals to know that wasn’t the case, but he was grateful Anne had said it. It seemed to make Sara feel better.
All he could think about was what a great mother she would make some day. If she was this patient and encouraging with her students, she’d be an amazing mother. He looked forward to meeting hers.
When they ran out of time and were forced to stop, Sara came over to him for a hug. “I didn’t do so good, did I?” she told him.
“You did great.”
“Not really.”
“Honey, you have to remember, this was your first rehearsal. And you learned almost half the dance really well. The rest will come.”
“Yeah, but everybody else knows it really well.”
“Only because they’ve had weeks to learn it. Don’t you worry about it. You’ll get it in plenty of time for the performances.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Chris pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head. His parents didn’t know what they were missing, having caused a rift in the family so much so that they only saw their granddaughter on occasional holidays. Little did they know that she was just like her mother at that age. She had the best of both of her parents, he decided, and very little of his parents, thank goodness.
Anne watched the man with his niece and couldn’t help thinking what a great father he would be some day. It was obvious how comfortable
and safe his niece felt with him. And how much she depended on him. She wondered what had happened to her father. She shivered and her first thought was that he had died. If that was the case, Sara needed Chris, and he was doing his best to provide a male presence in her life.
Again her hand involuntarily shifted to cover her heart, but this time she couldn’t deny the fluttering. Damn. Why couldn’t he be a jerk? But no, he had to go and be a decent guy. And gorgeous and sexy and a gifted photographer. Clearly he needed a flaw or two. Something that would guarantee that she’d have no problem waving good-bye as she left on her next tour.
But if his behavior toward his niece was any indication, there was no jerk hidden beneath his charming exterior. But surely the man had to have a flaw, something that would make it safe to enter into a relationship of some sort with him, other than photographer and subject. Everyone had their faults. She just hadn’t had the opportunity to spot it yet. But hey, she hardly knew the man. One cup of coffee or glass of wine together and she’d surely see hints of something unappealing about him.
She glanced over at Chris again, but for a change he wasn’t watching her. He was staring after his niece who had just trotted off to talk to a group of girls in her dance class. He was beaming as he watched the young girl who had already made friends and was clearly at home at her new dance studio.
Damn. Now her heart was melting right along with her body. The question was, what did she do about it? She knew exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to tell him to leave, get out of there, go as far as he could in the opposite direction from her. Either that or grab him and take him to the nearest bed which happened to be at her family’s B&B down the street and make crazy passionate love to him. What was it about him? It was as if sexiness oozed from his pores.
But he was also the most confusing man she’d ever met. Most men let her know right away if they were interested or not. They flirted, gave her their most charming smile, and asked her out. Christopher Newell only hinted at flirting, and he definitely hadn’t asked her out. But he smiled at her with that smile that could melt a glacier right out from under a polar bear. And he had touched her. Okay, so it was only a handshake. And his shoulder had brushed hers several times in passing. And he had pulled out a couple hair clips for the sake of his photographs. But still . . . . He had touched her. And she had all but dissolved. Damn it. Why didn’t he just ask her out?
December Dance Page 6