Oh yeah, he wanted to kiss her . . . and a lot more. “I just figure that once we’re really good friends, she’ll fall in love with me and won’t want to dump me.”
“’Cause you’re in love with her?”
“’Cause I’m in love with her.”
“Thought so!”
Chris reached over and tickled her again. “Now can we stop talking about this?”
“Sure, but just one more question. How did you fall in love with her so fast? I mean, you just met her, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I just met her,” he answered honestly. “Sometimes it just happens that way.”
She nodded as if she understood. “Okay then. Let’s pinky swear to keep it con—con—”
“Confidential?”
“Yeah, that.”
She held up her pinky and waited for him to do the same. He knew the drill and followed suit. He locked his pinky with hers and then scooped her up into his lap for a giant hug. Somehow he actually felt that with Sara on his side there was no way he could lose.
“You’re sure this is a good time?” Anne faced the photographer squarely, wondering why he had chosen evening.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, but I need to get cleaned up first.”
“You look fine.” Better than fine. She looked wonderful.
She grimaced. “Hardly. I’ve been teaching for four hours straight.” Ignoring his assessment of her appearance, she headed for the private restroom in her dance studio. With no shower, she did the best she could to wash up. She changed into a fresh pair of beige tights and a sleeveless lavender-colored leotard and brushed her hair until it shone. Then she tucked it into a neat pony tail and reapplied a small amount of makeup. He seemed to prefer her with little to none. That was fine, but what he wasn’t going to get was a sweaty image of her after she’d taught all afternoon and into the evening—her advanced classes which demanded more intense participation.
Chris stood staring at the door through which she had exited. He was looking forward to this shoot. He had very few night photographs of her other than those taken inside a theater. She really had no idea how beautiful she looked after an intense session of dancing. She glowed deep in her soul from the passion she felt when she danced. And that’s what he wanted to capture with his camera. He had selected Friday evening because she didn’t have rehearsals after her advanced classes. That would give them more time. If she ever came out of the restroom.
Camera in hand, he walked over to the door and tapped. “Anne, I really want to get started.”
“I’ll only be another minute.”
“I want you now.” He clamped his tongue between his teeth.
Anne smiled at her reflection in the mirror. A Freudian slip? Or did he want her simply as a subject. She opened the door slowly and walked toward him. “Better?”
“You looked fine before.”
“Yeah, but now I feel human.”
And she looked human all right. And irresistible. And she had that mischievous look in her eyes that she got when she was conspiring or at least thinking about doing something. It was the same look she’d had right before she’d kissed him.
Before he did something stupid—or let her do something stupid—he turned and walked away from her, toward the dance floor. He figured he was safer if there was a camera between them, at the very least.
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“Dance for me.”
It was the “for me” that touched her, especially the way he’d said it so softly with his husky voice. It made her want to stop the cat and mouse game, and it weakened her resolve to prove that he wanted her. It tempted her to simply blurt out the words, “Do you want to make love?” But she controlled herself.
Chris took in a slow breath. The moment she stepped onto the dance floor, she was glorious. Grace personified. In the past it was close-ups that Chris couldn’t resist taking, but now with the light moving through shadows in harmony with her body, his focus was more of a professional photographer’s, an artist’s. He was determined to capture the power and control that her body exemplified. The blend of technique and raw emotion.
He would develop these in black and white. They would demand their own chapter in a book. “The Spirit of Dance.”
She danced for thirty minutes straight, allowing the music to choose itself and flow from one piece to the next. Judging from her focus, she had finally come to terms with his presence. Perhaps he and his camera had disappeared for her. That was a good thing. At least for the sake of the photographs.
When she stopped, she was on the floor, kneeling with her back to him, her arms extended high above her head. The music finished with her as if she had silently commanded it to do so.
He couldn’t speak. Neither could she. It was several moments before she stood and turned to face him. He remained motionless, not knowing what to expect. But he knew from the tension in the room that he was in danger. He had no idea how it would manifest—possibly with another kiss, possibly with his telling her that he loved her. Whichever it was, he knew he had to leave. Unfortunately he couldn’t convince his legs of that.
When she moved toward him, his heart started pounding. He had no doubt what was going to happen, and he had no doubt that there was no hope of his resisting her.
Slowly she took the camera out of his hands and set it on top of its case. Deja vu. Still his feet were planted firmly on the floor. His breathing turned shallow when she took another step closer until they were toe to toe, her bare feet against his leather boots. Then her arms reached around his neck, and his arms, despite his command for them not to, enveloped her waist.
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t kiss me.”
“Why not?”
While he struggled for an answer, her lips moved in for the kill, pressing hard against his as her body did the same. He inhaled the lilac scent of her and he was lost. His arms pulled her closer as he devoured her mouth.
It was over, he realized. He’d blown it. There was no way he could convince her now that he wasn’t interested. His body was too honest. And he was way too aroused.
He could have taken her right there on the floor of her dance studio. He wanted to. God, how he wanted to. Her lithe body pressed against him and he could feel her breasts aching to be touched. It took every ounce of his willpower to resist.
“We can’t,” he whispered.
“You want to.” She’d stepped back to see his face. Her words were spoken in a challenge. There was no possibility of a lie.
“Yes, I want to.”
Her smile was endearing. She’d won. She liked winning.
“But we can’t,” he said quickly before she could edge closer again.
“Why not?”
Because when it’s time for you to leave on your tour, you’ll toss me aside. “Because we have a professional relationship.”
“Screw professional.”
He took her arms that had once again encircled his neck and lowered them. “No, Anne.”
Startled, she stepped away from him. Not too many men had told her no, she realized. Actually none. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s better this way.” He hated the way he sounded—like an inflexible parent.
“Better for whom? You want me and I want you.”
God, when she put it that way, how the hell did he turn her down?
“Don’t you?” she challenged.
He stopped breathing when he felt her hand on his chest, sliding upward until she reached his neck. She grabbed him and pulled his head toward her until their mouths met again. Only this time she let herself move freely, much the way she did when she danced. Her tongue pressed inside his parted lips, seducing his into an erotic dance. Once convinced he was not going to reject her, she released her hands from his neck so she could run them up and down his chest, swiftly undoing his buttons so it was skin touching sk
in.
She didn’t stop there. She leaned into his erection as if forcing him to admit his attraction. He didn’t resist. He didn’t pull away. He let himself indulge in the exquisite torture of her touch. How the hell was he supposed to reject her now? He forced himself to visualize her driving off in her little blue Honda sports car, waving good-bye. A permanent good-bye. Damn.
He stepped away from her, quickly reaching for his buttons.
“I really don’t understand, Chris.”
Of course, she didn’t. Because she had no clue what he wanted from her. Everything. “I’m sorry, Anne.”
She shook her head. “Really? You’re walking away from this? From us? From this incredible chemistry between us?”
She wasn’t just bewildered. She was angry. He could hear it in her voice. Clearly she wasn’t used to rejection. How did he fix this? Fix what had gotten out of hand? What he’d allowed to get out of hand?
Just as she turned away, primed to storm off, he grabbed her wrist and held her in place. “You know I want you, Anne.”
She relaxed in his grip. “I know.”
“I just don’t think it’s the right time or place.”
Her smile came slowly and when it did, it was the mischievous one with which he was becoming immensely familiar. “Okay then, tomorrow night? Spend the night with me? At the bed and breakfast?”
He couldn’t help smiling too. “You know what I mean.”
“Maybe. So, after you’re finished with your article, will that be the right time? We won’t be photographer and subject any longer.” He hesitated and she filled the brief silence. “But then, that will be too late. You’ll be leaving.”
No, she’d be the one to leave. “I won’t be leaving right away.”
She nodded. “Okay then, it’s a date. As soon as you’re finished shooting me, we can have a torrid affair.”
God, how the hell would he wait when she was so honest about wanting to be with him?
“How much longer?” she asked.
“Another couple weeks. But wouldn’t you like to get to know me first?”
“Like date?”
“Right. Maybe after I finish the article, we could go out—”
“Naw, dating is overrated, and I know you just fine.”
“Well, maybe I don’t know you well enough.” He hoped she couldn’t hear the blatant lie.
Anne stared at him. Okay, maybe she didn’t know him that well. She’d never met anyone like him. She’d never met a man who didn’t want to sleep with her after they’d kissed her like that. Not that she’d ever experienced a kiss quite like the ones they’d shared. “Well, maybe we can have coffee—or tea—again. Before you finish your article. Just friends.”
Good. “Just friends.” Safe territory. Except that there was nothing safe about the way she was looking at him. And it wasn’t just hunger he was seeing in her eyes. It was mischief. She was up to something, scheming, plotting. Whatever it was, he had a really bad feeling that Skye was right. He was in big trouble.
Chapter 12
“Okay, I’m impressed. Anne invited you to spend the night at the B&B with her and you turned her down?” The guy had more willpower than Skye would have given him credit for.
As far as she knew, no man had ever rejected her gorgeous and graceful cousin. Hell, they’d been lining up at her door since she’d turned fourteen. And she had only opened that door a few times. She was, after all, very selective. She had dated quite a few of her admirers, but she always seemed to know on that first date if she wanted there to be a second one. And when there was a second one, it only lasted a few weeks, or sometimes a couple months, right up until her next tour.
Chris set down his beer and thumped himself in the head. “I must be insane. Shit, she was all over me—” His tongue was starting to bleed from all the biting he’d been doing lately. But this was her cousin. And her best friend. “Let’s just say, she was definitely willing. I’m pretty sure my rejecting her is a point against me.”
“Maybe now, but not in the long run,” Skye assured him. “What excuse did you give her?”
“That I think we need to keep it on a professional basis.”
“Let me guess. She asked when you’d be finished photographing her.”
Chris chuckled and winked at Nick. “You’re right. No one knows Anne like Skye does.”
“I should hope not,” Skye said. “So, I assume she did. So, what did you say to that?”
“A couple weeks. Then she scheduled a date.”
“A date? Such as dinner and a movie?”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly what she was suggesting.”
Skye laughed. Anne was nothing, if not predictable, at least when it came to men. “An affair?”
Chris didn’t particularly like divulging their conversation to someone, but he needed all the help he could get. “A torrid affair.”
“Whoa, she doesn’t mess around,” Nick said. This was not a side of Anne he’d witnessed.
“Nope, she doesn’t,” Skye confirmed. “She knows what she wants—at least most of the time. So, how did you respond?”
“I suggested we date first. But if she hasn’t already fallen in love with me by then, I don’t know how I should play it. I can only be friends with her for so long.”
“I feel your pain,” Nick said. “Been there, done that.” He swatted Skye on her sexy little ass before kissing her.
“It was worth it though, Cowboy. Just remember that.”
“Trust me, I do, Sweet Pea. Every day.” He leered at her. “And night.”
Chris looked on with envy, wondering if he and Anne would ever get to the same point in their relationship, especially the engagement part. “You two aren’t making this any easier.”
“Sorry.” Skye stepped away from her fiancé. “Hands off, Cowboy, at least in front of the customers.”
He swatted her lightly again. “Like hell.” He turned back to Chris. “Just hang in there. Spend time with her—as friends. She’s obviously attracted to you. The harder you are to get, the harder she’ll fall.”
“I hope you’re right. Unfortunately she’s a little too smart. She’s up to something. I have no idea what it is, but I have a feeling she’s going to put a lot of effort into getting me to give in, long before our professional relationship is over.”
Skye grimaced and both men stared at her, waiting for her to speak her thoughts. “That does kind of sound like Anne. She does tend to have ways of persuading people to do what she wants them to do.”
He knew this about her, but somehow hearing it from Skye made it worse. “Such as?”
“Such as she could always get her big brother Alex to take her places once he had his driver’s license. And then—not sure how she managed this one—she could always get the twins to do her chores for her when she had something better to do. And she can always get her students to step outside their comfort zone and dance in ways they never expected to be able to.”
He’d definitely witnessed that.
“And even her staff of teachers. They’ve all moved beyond their own styles of dance. She’s very inspiring.”
That he had witnessed too.
“Okay, so tell me, what can I expect?”
“To need all the willpower you can muster,” Skye said.
Great. He was running low on that.
Seeing the look of dismay on the love-struck man’s face, Skye said, “It’s good that Arielle and I are kidnapping her from her dance studio tomorrow.” They had come up with a plan. Between the two of them, they should have Anne getting over her “commitmentitis” before the month was out. They would have included Sophie in the plan, but she was off on her honeymoon with Sean, not expected to return until Christmas Eve. But surely between the two of them, she and Arielle could handle Anne and her stubborn resistance to letting her heart get involved with a man.
“Don’t worry, we’ll work our magic,” she promised.
“Good.” Because he had a feel
ing magic was exactly what was needed—if not a miracle.
“It’s perfect.” Anne put the sweater she’d chosen for her mother back into the bag and set it on the empty chair between her and Skye.
“I agree.” Skye gazed into the bag at the exact same sweater she’d chosen for her mother, only in ivory instead of blue.
Arielle laughed at them and thanked the server as she poured her tea. “You two certainly do make Christmas shopping easier.” She reached for the bag she’d set on the floor and handed it to Skye. “Here, set this on the chair with yours, will you?”
They’d done well. So what if all three of them had selected the same sweater? Arielle’s mother’s was a forest green, her favorite color. They were gorgeous, cashmere. All three of them had splurged. Their mothers deserved it.
“Ah, this is nice,” Anne said. “I was beginning to feel as if I lived at my dance studio.”
“Happens every year at this time,” Skye teased. Only there was something profoundly different this year. There was a man involved. She winked at Arielle who smiled in return.
“So, what else is going on in your life?” Arielle asked Anne. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Not since Matt’s and my Thanksgiving wedding.”
Anne cringed. Had it really been that long? Well, she’d been kind of distracted lately.
“What’s going on?” Arielle asked again, studying her closely.
“Uh, nothing much. Just rehearsals for my new version of The Nutcracker.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?” Anne snatched a maple nut scone from the three-tiered server.
“Nothing, just hmm,” Arielle said casually.
Anne set down her scone. She was sitting between her cousin who knew her better than anyone else on the planet and her therapist cousin-in-law who could read her like a book. She might as well open up. “Okay, there’s this guy.”
“A guy?” Arielle said. “Why haven’t you told me about him?”
December Dance Page 10