December Dance

by Verity Norton

“Yeah, but you like like him.”

  Anne didn’t have to ask what that meant. She pulled her gaze from the window. “He seems very nice.” For a snob. “Now go get ready. If you want, we can stay after rehearsal and work on your dance a little.”

  “Oh, yes! Thank you. I almost have it down now. I’ve been practicing at home, but there’s that one part I have a little trouble with.”

  “Well, we’ll concentrate on that part today. How would that be?”

  “That would be good, but don’t you have a photo shoot with my uncle?”

  Oh, yeah, that. “Uh, yes, but he won’t mind waiting for a half hour or so, will he?”

  “No, I’m sure he won’t. And I get to stay and watch the photo shoot.”

  Anne glanced back toward the window. They needed to talk. She needed to confront him. If he was the snob she assumed he was, she was not about to fall into bed with him, no matter how sexy he was. And the sooner she knew, the better.

  “I have an idea. Have you ever ridden a horse?”

  Sara’s eyes lit up. “A horse? Yes! My Uncle Chris taught me to ride.”

  “He rides horses?”

  “Oh, yes. My mom too. They took lessons when they were kids. My grandparents own horses.”

  Of course they did. A sign of their wealth as opposed to their love of horses, she quickly decided.

  “Well, how would you like to go riding this afternoon while we’re doing the photo shoot?”

  “That would be awesome!” Her forehead wrinkled. “But where?”

  “My family’s horse ranch.”

  “Your family has a horse ranch too?”

  “Yes, they do,” Anne said. A real one. A working one. And it wasn’t for show. She yanked her cell phone from her pocket and pressed her mother’s cell number. Within three minutes it was all set up. Her father, Grant, would come pick up Sara after rehearsal and take her out to the ranch where her Cousin Matt’s kids, Belle and Brandon, would be. And her mother would take the three of them riding.

  Anne handed Sara the phone after telling her the details. “I think you should call your mom though and make sure she’s okay with it.”

  “She will be,” Sara assured her, dialing her mother’s number anyway. She explained the plan, smiled up at Anne and nodded.

  After Sara hung up, she handed back the phone and ran off to get ready for her rehearsal. Anne’s eyes were drawn instantly back to the window. He was on the phone now. Talking to whom? she wondered. A woman? A rich highly-successful woman who would fit into his world of high society?

  Chris noticed Anne’s frown turn to a scowl. What was she upset about? Or whom? She’d been talking to Sara a minute ago. Had Sara told her something she shouldn’t have? No, Sara would never do that. She would never purposely give him up. And she was too smart to do it accidentally.

  “Christopher? Are you there?”

  “Uh, yes, Father, I’m here.”

  “Well, a response would be appreciated.”

  “Sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?”

  “I said I think it’s time for you to reconsider your career choice. I said it’s time for you to get serious about life and settle down.”

  Settle down? Did he mean get married? And then what? Cheat on his wife with numerous mistresses? “You mean follow in your footsteps?”

  “My footsteps aren’t so bad, Christopher. I followed in my father’s. It’s time you did the same.”

  Sara’s words came flashing back to him. Honesty. Chris swallowed hard and said, “What? Marry a woman so I can cheat on her?”

  He could almost feel his father’s hostility through the phone. “Your mother’s and my relationship is none of your business.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not. She’s perfectly content with the arrangement we have.”

  “Convenient,” he murmured. “But you might want to ask her just how content and happy she is.”

  “I didn’t call you to discuss my marriage. I called you to ask you to come home for the holidays.”

  “I already told you I’m not coming.”

  “Isn’t it bad enough my own son refuses to join the family business? Now he won’t even come home for Christmas? Do you know how humiliating that is?”

  Chris felt a sardonic smile cross his lips. So his father’s wanting him to come home had nothing to do with wanting to see him, spend time with him, see how he was. It was all for the sake of appearances.

  “Well, do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Know how humiliating it is?”

  “No, Father, I don’t.”

  “So, are you coming home?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Maybe because I’m tired of hearing how much I humiliate you and what a fucked-up son I am.”

  His father’s sigh was loud and cutting. He obviously didn’t approve of his choice of words. “That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

  “Do I?”

  “Well, you should. You really need to be here. We have several very important functions over the holidays and it would be quite awkward if you didn’t attend them as well.”

  Chris shook his head. Did his father have a clue? Apparently not. “I have to go.”

  “What’s so important that you can’t finish a phone conversation with your own father?”

  “My niece’s dance rehearsal.”

  “You’re hanging up on me to watch a kid’s dance rehearsal?”

  “No, Father, I’m saying good-bye and hanging up because I’m needed backstage. At your granddaughter’s dance rehearsal. Good-bye.”

  He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the empty passenger seat. Shit. He was trembling. He hated that. He hated the way his father could still jangle him. He hated that he still reacted to his father the way he had when he was a kid. At least he wasn’t still saying, “yes, sir” and “no, sir.” And he had stood up to him. He had confronted him and spoken the truth. Too bad his father hadn’t heard it.

  Chapter 14

  “Sugar Plum Fairy next, right?”

  Anne raised an intolerant eyebrow and pointed at the sheet of paper on the clipboard Chris was holding. The air froze around him. Ice queen to the nth degree. What had he done now? Surely asking a simple question couldn’t have done it. Was she angry because he’d come in one minute after rehearsal had begun?

  Or was she fuming from his insistence on keeping things between them professional? He motioned for the Sugar Plum Fairy to enter, then turned his attention back to Anne who was standing as far away from him as possible in the designated backstage area. Her back was straight and her posture, perfect. And rigid. And she was glowering. This didn’t make any sense. She had seemed fine with the concept of waiting until he finished his article. Well, at least amenable to the idea. So, why the sudden winter frost?

  Maybe it had nothing to do with him. Maybe she was upset about something entirely different. He watched as Ben, the hip-hop instructor, trotted over to ask her something. She smiled, answered him, kissed him on the cheek before he ran off. A minute later, one of the students who obviously had to go to the bathroom, ran up to her. Anne whirled her around and pointed her toward the bathroom, assuring her she had plenty of time before her entrance.

  Nope, this sudden frost was definitely reserved for him.

  Anne turned toward the performer. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t stand being in the cramped backstage area with him, especially when he kept staring at her like that. Damn! Why did she have to be so attracted to the jerk!

  Linda, her ballet instructor, came up and slid an arm around her waist. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Right.”

  “Just stressing over the show. We only have a week and a half until dress rehearsal.”

  “Which is plenty of time. They’re doing great.”

  Anne turned her focus slightly and Linda laughed. This had nothing to do with the dance production. This
had to do with the man Anne was clearly avoiding.

  “Did you need something?” Anne asked her.

  Linda decided the loose bar in the ballet studio could wait. Her boss snubbing the hunky photographer couldn’t. “Just wanted to find out if you’re not interested in the hot photographer anymore.”

  “Why?”

  Linda controlled her laugh at the suspicious look on Anne’s face. She raised a leering eyebrow as she gazed over at the subject of their conversation. “Because if you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

  “You’re fired. Again.”

  Linda chuckled. “Thought so.” Before Anne could say anything Linda ran back to the ballet studio.

  Chris suffered through two hours of rehearsal in the ice chamber. She only spoke to him to tell him he was doing something wrong or was blocking the dancers or had missed a cue. Other than that, she stood as close to the mirrors as she could get, a good ten feet from his backstage position. If this was how it was going to be, he figured he would be waiting at the pub while Sara finished her private rehearsal. And then they’d be heading back to Winslow. There was no point in doing a photo shoot of ice queen pictures.

  Except for one small detail. His curiosity. He wasn’t about to go through a night of wondering what had put the burr under her saddle. As soon as she finished with Sara, he would ask her straight out. As time went by, his temper was rising, and he knew his question was likely to be more crass than he wanted it to be. Too damn bad. At this point he wasn’t sure he cared.

  However, he didn’t wait until Sara had finished rehearsal. As soon as the general rehearsal was over, he told Sara to go have a drink of water and to rest for a minute. He needed to talk to her teacher. Then he went in search of Anne who was standing beside the CD player. He grabbed her by the wrist and headed toward the back door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Talking to you.”

  “It feels more like you’re pulling me than talking to me. Where are we going? Why—?”

  “Outside. So we don’t embarrass ourselves.”

  “Why would we embarrass ourselves?”

  “Gee, I don’t know? Yelling maybe?”

  “Why are we yelling?”

  “Because I want to know why the hell you suddenly have a stick up your ass!” Damn. He knew crass was on the agenda.

  Chris pushed open the door to a patio with a weeping willow tree and several rose bushes. He hadn’t expected that. Somehow the sight of the garden calmed him. His voice softened. “Sorry, but I’m tired of your ice queen act.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He placed his hand under her chin and held her face still so she was looking into his eyes. “Why are you so angry?”

  He relaxed his grip on her wrist. She started to turn away, but he held her face still so she couldn’t.

  “Why?”

  “Because I finally figured it out.”

  “Figured what out?”

  “That you think I’m not good enough for you. That’s why you’re—that’s why you’re putting me off. I’m good enough for your photo shoot, but not good enough for you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I googled you.”

  “Shit.” But, he supposed turn about was fair play. Only what she had found on the internet had nothing to do with who he was.

  “Yeah, shit. I know I don’t know you that well, but I never suspected you’d turn out to be a snob.”

  “That’s the last thing I am.”

  “Yeah, right. Your family just happens to be one of the wealthiest, most prestigious families in Marin County.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “Then tell me who you are.”

  “I’m just a guy. A simple guy who chose to be a photographer.”

  “An award winning photographer from one of the wealthiest families in Marin County,” she repeated. “Most eligible bachelor.”

  “That may be where I come from, but it’s not where I am now. I’m here now. Photographing a beautiful dancer for an article.” An article he was pouring his heart and soul into.

  She stepped away from the grip he had on her and rested her hands on her hips, obviously wanting more of an explanation.

  “I’m not even close to my family, Anne. And even if I were, it doesn’t mean I’m a snob. I’m nothing like them.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “You have to trust me on that. Or if you can’t do that, ask Sara. She’ll tell you. I rarely even see them. I don’t particularly care for their lavish lifestyle. Or the family business.”

  Anne heard a hint of pain in his voice and relaxed her stance. “In other words, you’re the black sheep of the family?”

  “Definitely the black sheep.”

  “What about your sister? Is she a black sheep too?”

  “Not exactly. But we’re both basically the big disappointments in a very male-dominated family.” Bordering on misogynistic.

  “If your family is so wealthy, why can’t your sister pay for Sara’s dance classes?” The question came out before she could censor it. It was none of her business.

  “Shelly is very stubborn and very proud. She has trouble even taking money from me. And she won’t take money from them. Too many strings attached.”

  Not a concept she could even begin to grasp. But then, not all families were as supportive as hers. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. There was nothing about him that seemed snobbish, except for the fact that, despite being attracted to her, he didn’t want a relationship with her.

  “Damn.”

  “Damn?”

  “I thought I’d found your flaw.”

  “My flaw? I only have one?”

  “Well, no, actually you have two.” She frowned, reconsidering her words. “You had two, but since you’ve deflated the myth that you’re a snob, I suppose it’s only one.”

  “And what would that one be?”

  She practically growled out the words. “Your willpower.”

  He had to control himself from laughing for fear she might think he was laughing at her, which he was. But it was only because she was so damned adorable. And so incredibly honest.

  “So, tell me the truth. Why are you really avoiding a relationship with me?”

  “I told you, I think it’s important we keep things professional. I don’t want anything to distract from that.”

  She knew better. The way he watched her, studied her, looked at her with unabashed desire told her that if they made love, nothing would change the way he looked at her through the lens of his camera. He already looked at her as if they’d made love. “I want the truth.”

  Maybe honesty would work better with Anne than it had with his father. He wanted to call Nick or Skye to get their advice, but there was no time. He was on his own. All he had to rely on was his gut. And the wisdom of an eight-year-old.

  “Because I know you. I know you’ll dump me before your next tour.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I know your M.O.”

  “My M.O.? I don’t have an M.O.”

  “Yeah, you do. You dump guys right before you go out on tour.”

  “I don’t dump guys. They dump me. They promise to wait, but they never do. They leave.”

  “Yeah, right, because you give them a clear message that their services are no longer needed.”

  “I don’t—”

  He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t bother. Before I pick a subject, I do my research. I know you, Anne. Better than you think. And I don’t want to end up in the pile of Anne McCullough Jameson rejects.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “You mean you really do want to have an affair with me? You really do want to make love with me?”

  “Oh, yeah, I want to. There’s nothing I want more.” Except to marry you.

  Her knees weakened, and she wanted to grab him and make love to him right there on the tiny patio behind her dance
studio. Except that it was probably fifty degrees out. And there were people inside, including his niece who was waiting for her.

  She stepped closer and reached for him. This time he didn’t even consider resisting. He welcomed her into his arms, struggling for control. “I can’t, Anne,” he protested. “Not knowing your M.O.”

  She could feel him harden against her, and she reached down to touch him. He groaned, and she knew how much he wanted her. She wrapped her hand around him as best she could with his jeans between them. While her tongue tangled with his, she unzipped his jeans and slid her hand down to feel him better.

  His moan was deep, and she knew it would not take much to seduce the man. He wanted her. Oh, yeah, he wanted her. Knowing that made her want him all the more.

  Chris struggled to pull her hand away but it felt too incredible. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let her do this. But God he wanted to. Even more, he wanted to be inside of her, making love to her. Only a fraction of his brain was working, struggling to remind him that he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t take her here on the patio of her studio. He couldn’t take her now, not until—

  “Oh, God, you have to stop.” He could scarcely hear his own voice, and if she could hear him, she chose to ignore him. “No, Anne.”

  “No, what?” She continued stroking him, knowing full well that he was on the verge of coming.

  “This is torture.”

  She wanted it to be. Because she wanted him. In her arms. In her bed.

  “Anne? Uncle Chris? Where are you?”

  They both froze at the sound of Sara’s voice calling them from inside the studio. Anne withdrew her hand from inside his jeans and zipped them up against his throbbing erection. Chris stood there, helpless, trying to breathe.

  “Devil woman,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers before she stepped away from him and pushed the door to the studio open.

  “I’ve got this. Take a minute to, uh, compose yourself.” Then she laughed as she let the door close behind her and called out to Sara.

  Anne told Sara she would be right with her as she hurried into the restroom. She was floating on air. He did want her. He wasn’t a snob. He just knew her M.O. Did she really have an M.O.? Were Skye and Arielle right? She thought back to her relationships over the years. There were dates, lots of dates. And a fling here and there. And then the handful of men who she thought might actually wait for her. But none of them had. Not even Tim . . . or Gabe.