“It sounds wonderful,” Darren said, hopefully.
Sophie and Wayne shared a glance. They both recognized that tone of voice. Darren had already begun to make up his mind.
A half hour later Cindy was pulling through massive wrought-iron gates that opened as her car approached.
“It’s got off street parking!” Cindy exclaimed, pulling into a reserved spot.
“I think this might be more than a ‘scootch’ out of our range,” Darren muttered to Sophie as they got out of the car. Looking around at the other cars in the lot—Mercedes, Porsches, Bentleys—she was forced to agree. But she held up her thumb and forefinger, much the same way Cindy had.
“Come on, give it a shot. Can’t hurt to look, right?”
Cindy was halfway to the complex, her heels clicking loudly on the concrete, as she prattled to Wayne about security, double paned glass, and rooftop gardens. Sophie tugged Darren along, both of them hurrying to keep up with the bubbly realtor. When they stepped into the building’s lobby, Darren gave a low whistle. It was clear from the stone tiled floors, muted sage walls, and tasteful decor that this building was vastly different from their previous viewings.
There was a uniformed security guard, breast patch emblazoned with the words Figleaf Terrace in green, sitting at the front desk. Cindy waved to him.
“Hey Clive! Just taking some clients up to twenty-six for a tick.”
The guard nodded, touching the brim of his hat with one finger.
Cindy ushered them into the elevator and hit the button for the 26th floor. “There’s security around the clock. The neighborhood has the second lowest crime rate in the city anyway, but still. And great schools. Sacred Heart and Brightman Montessori are both within walking distance.”
Wayne was listening to Cindy’s laundry list with brow furrowing intensity. Sophie nudged Darren in the side. “Good schools, Papa.”
Darren rolled his eyes.
The elevator rose quickly and silently, doors sliding open with a soft, musical chime as they reached their floor.
Cindy led the way to apartment 2647, pushing the door all the way open with another sweeping gesture. “As you can see it has brand new carpeting throughout. All the latest appliances, of course. Plus, well, take a look for yourself.”
The apartment didn’t need a hard sell. Darren gave a soft gasp of delight as he stepped into the entryway and took in the living room with its big windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. The walls were bare and painted in soft shades of beige, but even Sophie began imagining what they could look like with artwork and family photos.
To their left was a large open kitchen with golden brown Tuscan tile flooring. Between the living room and the kitchen was a small dining area done in blonde oak. From the apartment door, Sophie could see all the way out onto the wide terrace.
She noticed two bedrooms, a master suite with its own bathroom and a smaller one down the hall, just what Darren and Wayne had been looking for.
“There’s a washer and dryer,” Cindy pointed out, indicating a cupboard near the kitchen. “And roof access!”
“You could put your plants out here, babe. Your herbs and stuff?” Darren had thrown open the terrace doors and was indicating the long length of ledge.
Wayne sat carefully on the plush sofa in the living room, leaning back and gazing around. “We could hang the TV there,” he said, indicating the wall leading to the master bedroom. “And the Kandinsky print near the kitchen.”
“We’d have to get a dining table. This carpet is too nice to eat in here.” Darren rubbed his toe through the plush fabric.
“If we get the apartment,” Wayne corrected him.
“Baby,” Darren began, but Wayne held up his hand, turning to face Cindy.
“How much is it a month?” he asked, straight off.
Cindy tugged at a lock of her dark hair. “Well...” she hedged. “Like I said, it’s a scootch more than you were looking for.”
“What is it?” he repeated.
“Forty-five hundred a month. Very reasonable for what you’d be getting!”
Wayne climbed to his feet. “I’m sure it is, Cindy, but that’s more than twice what we were looking to pay.”
“Maybe...” Darren said, but he trailed off. Even he knew it was out of their price bracket. His green eyes dimmed with disappointment.
Wayne crossed the room to his husband and looped his arm around Darren’s waist. “Sorry, hun. We’ll find something else we’ll love just as much.”
Cindy, as if sensing a day of wasted apartment shopping, seemed to exude even more enthusiasm at them. “Let me just show you the roof. It’s a must-see.”
“I don’t think so, Cindy. But thank you,” Wayne said gravely. Wayne took Darren’s hand and squeezed it, drawing him toward the elevator. “It’s lovely, Cindy. Really. But it’s just not in our price range.”
Sophie, Cindy, and Darren all sighed at the same time. Cindy’s shoulders sagged a little, the first chink in her over-bright armor that Sophie had seen all day.
“Okay then, let’s move on to the next unit on the list we’d already discussed. We’ll have to head back to midtown.”
Darren and Wayne reached the elevator first and pressed the down button. Wayne was quietly murmuring to Darren, no doubt consoling him over the loss of their dream apartment, but Sophie didn’t hear a thing they said because the elevator doors slid open and Henry’s voice poured out and over her like warm honey.
“I’m going to need the building inspector’s report on that,” Henry was saying. He stepped out of the elevator beside a short, balding man who was fervently taking notes on his iPad and nodding.
“Of course, sir,” the bald man said.
She faintly heard Darren’s soft gasp of surprise, but when Henry’s dark eyes met hers, she felt a jolt of electricity run up her spine. Henry stilled, addressing his balding companion without looking away from Sophie. “That’s all for now, Jack. I’ll call you later.”
The man didn’t even question Henry’s sudden change of demeanor. He just ducked back into the elevator and was gone. Cindy’s voice was suddenly shrill in Sophie’s ear.
“Mr. Medina! I’m Cindy Tremaine! I didn’t realize you were going to be here today. It’s such a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Henry’s eyes were still on Sophie, full of some dark, unfathomable expression. It made her want to touch his face. She curled her hand into a fist to resist the urge. Henry cocked one of those thick, black brows. Ignoring Cindy, he turned to Sophie. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly.
“I was just showing—” Cindy began.
Sophie cut her off, inhaling a slow breath through her nose. “I’m here with my friends. They’re looking at apartments.” She nodded to Darren and Wayne, who were watching her and Henry like spectators at a tennis match. Cindy’s mouth had fallen unattractively open.
Henry turned slightly on his polished Ferragamo’s, smiling at Wayne and Darren. “Are you going to be renting in the building?”
Wayne was blinking stupidly at the handsome businessman. Sophie had never seen him look so flummoxed. If she wasn’t so galvanized by Henry’s presence, she would have laughed. Darren, on the other hand, could at least manage a coherent sentence.
“We’d love to, really. The apartment was perfect, but it’s just a scootch out of our price range.” He winced as he said ‘scootch’. Sophie did snicker then, and Henry’s gaze flicked to her. She saw his eyes dip briefly to her cleavage and then graze her legs beneath her skirt. Her heart seized, frozen inside her ribcage, as she wondered what he’d think of her scars.
But the look in his eyes, when he raised them back to hers, was far from disgust. She saw again the heat she’d felt when she was in his arms. Henry’s jaw flexed briefly as she bit her lower lip, but she immediately averted her gaze when she remembered yesterday’s phone call.
“Ms... Tremaine, was it?” Henry asked as he turned to Cindy. “Are you the listing agent for 2647?
”
Cindy’s hand was pressed to her throat, as if she needed to massage the correct words out. “Yes, I am. And there’s been just a ton of interest already—”
“What’s the asking price?” He cut her off, expression pleasant, though his tone brooked no argument.
Cindy swallowed, blinking rapidly. “Ah, that unit is forty-five hundred a month, with a move-in fee of—”
“That won’t do.”
“Pardon me?” Cindy frowned, clearly not following. Sophie wasn’t either. She’d thought, when he first started talking, that he lived in the building. But she was beginning to get the feeling that there was more to it than that.
Henry took Cindy’s elbow in his and drew her closer to his side. “I think if you check again, you’ll see the the listing price for that unit is...” He paused, raising his brows at Darren. “Twenty-two hundred?”
Sophie’s chin hit her chest. Wayne and Darren were gaping too. But none of them so much as Cindy. She had gone red in the face. “But... Mr. Medina!”
“Don’t worry Ms. Tremaine, I’ll be sure you still receive the standard commission.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sophie blurted.
Darren waved his hand at her frantically. “Sophie!”
She ignored him. “I’m sorry, Hen—Mr. Medina. But you can’t do that.”
“Can you?” Wayne asked, arms crossed.
A tiny smile crept up over Henry’s lips. “I can. And I will.” He shot this in Sophie’s direction. “On one condition.”
Wayne’s brows rose to his hairline. “And that is?”
“One dance. With Sophie. Right here and now.”
“No.” The word was out of Sophie’s mouth before she even thought about it. She wanted to say yes, desperately. In fact, she had dreamed about being in his arms again. But she didn’t want him to think that she had reconsidered his offer for the private lessons. She couldn’t open herself up to this man.
Darren curled his arm around her waist, tugging her further away from the group. She blinked at him in surprise. She hadn’t seen him move from his spot beside Wayne. “Sophie,” he said, chuckling nervously, “can I talk to you over here?”
Henry raised a brow at her, lips twitching. She flashed Henry a sharp glance, but let her friend pull her a few feet away. He was hissing in her ear. “You are kidding, right? You’re going to dance with him. This is just some play-hard-to-get female flirtation thing. Right?”
“It isn’t, and I’m not.” Hot blood bloomed in her cheeks. She was not flirting with Henry Medina.
“Soph,” Darren pleaded. “You saw that apartment! There’s no way we’re going to find something anywhere near as nice in our price range. Please. It’s just one dance!”
Just one dance with the gorgeous Henry Medina. In broad daylight, in a skirt, where her scars and faults would be on full display. Her mouth went dry. “Dar, I’m sorry. But you saw me yesterday, my knee is no good.” It wasn’t a total lie, she was nervous about collapsing in front of Henry the way she’d collapsed in front of her students and further exacerbating her injury. But she also didn’t want him to think she was the kind of girl who was easily swayed by money.
Darren clutched her arm. “Soph—” But she pulled free and took the few steps back toward Henry. She heard Darren’s heavy sigh from behind her and winced.
“Henry,” she began. From the corner of her eye she caught Wayne rubbing a comforting hand up and down Darren’s back. She bit her lip. “We, don’t have any music.” She said, deciding that she could risk one dance for the sake of her best friend’s future.
Henry turned to Darren, a twinkle in his obsidian eyes. “You seem like a music lover. Have anything on your phone Ms. Becker and I can dance to?”
Her friend was already nodding and fishing around in his shoulder bag. He brandished his iPhone in triumph. Darren scrolled through his phone. He gave a soft ‘aha!’ and handed the iPhone to Henry.
“We’re not going to dance in the hallway, are we?” Sophie asked, hoping to minimize the humiliation.
“Of course not. We’re dancing on the roof,” Henry said. He hit the elevator button and ushered the group inside.
When they arrived at the building’s rooftop Henry swiftly plugged the iPod into a dock set up near the pool area, and Sophie scowled at Darren as the opening notes of the music came over the speakers. She turned to Henry, who was ready and waiting, his hand extended toward her. With a tremulous sigh she laid her hand in his.
He pulled her into his embrace, his arm curving low around her back. His eyes sparked like flint as she leaned into him. The beat was more up-tempo than it had been during their first dance, but Henry was clearly up to it.
The sun felt hot on her head, shining bright off the white umbrellas shielding the rooftop tables. Henry’s arm was hard against her back, his palm warm through the thin silk of her top. She couldn’t help it. Her hips were already swaying to the rollicking rhythm of the song. She fell effortlessly into the dance. Henry was an excellent leader, spinning them around the open expanse of the roof, feet gliding smoothly over the stone.
When he lifted her against his chest for a calesita, delight burst inside her belly like fireworks. She threw back her head and laughed up at the sky as he danced around her. Henry’s eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. When her feet touched the ground again, she kicked up and hooked her leg high on his thigh.
They moved as one, steps in perfect time. She was panting, breathless, giddy at the playful brush of her skirt against her thighs, Henry’s big hand at her back, the press of his chest against her own. His foot stopped hers, pushing it along, pivoting her off her axis. His movements were strong, clean, and fast.
The dance in her half-lit studio had been deeply sensual, erotic. There was still an element of passion today. She could hardly be pressed so closely to such a gorgeous man, their bodies moving together, and not find it so. But whereas last time was serious, today was exuberant. The difference between the two dances was like the difference between a fall-into-bed-tearing-at-each-other’s-clothes voracious sexual encounter, and a light-hearted afternoon frolic between the sheets. Both sexy, but the mood was different.
She kicked out her left leg, twisting her torso the slightest bit, saucy and defiant as the singer crooned. Henry laughed, deep and low, as he pulled her back in, his hard thigh pressing between her legs. She gasped, eyes widening at the sensation. It was a dance move, she knew it was. Hell, she’d taught it a hundred times. But somehow, when he did it, it was so much more than that. As intimate as a kiss.
She bit her lip at the throb of her moistening sex, disappointed that the last few notes of the song faded. She stared up into his handsome face. His grin was wide, eyes sparkling, his dimples and straight, white teeth on display.
Sophie was breathing quickly, chest heaving, the hard buds of her nipples pressing through her bra and blouse to rub exquisitely against his chest. The entire length of her body was pressed to him. Her right leg was hooked around his hip while her left arm was wrapped around his neck, fingers curled in the thick silk of his dark hair. Only her pointed left foot anchored her to the ground.
All her weight, the portion of it that Henry wasn’t bearing, rested on her left leg. Her bad leg. And she hadn’t felt a thing but exultation. She could feel the smile stretching her own cheeks, the flush of blood in them as her heart pounded. Slowly, the rest of the world came back to her.
Darren was hooting and whistling. Wayne was clapping enthusiastically and even Cindy was grinning.
Sophie blinked up at Henry. “Who are you?”
His dark eyes bore into her. “A man who enjoys dancing with you.”
She shook her head at his mystery. He could cut the price of a luxury New York City apartment in half with a word to the leasing agent and wore Hugo Boss and Ferragamo casually. Maybe he hadn’t been propositioning her. Maybe he had offered her all that money for private lessons because money was no object to him. A trivial thing to get in the
way of what he wanted. She lowered her leg, moving to step away from him, but he tightened his arm around her waist slightly as she did so.
“Wait.”
She paused, raising her brows. “Yes?”
“Reconsider the lessons.” His voice was low but fervent.
She’d known he was going to ask again, the minute he’d made a dance the condition of his generosity. Then, she was going to renew her refusal. But now? With the hum of the dance in her veins, and the zing of triumph in her heart? Was she really willing to give up the chance for another dance like today’s out of fear that she might fall?
“No,” she said, the word out of her mouth before she’d realized she was forming it. A shutter fell over Henry’s eyes. What the hell am I doing, she thought. “I mean yes.” Her stomach flipped. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
His expression turned. “Thank you,” he said. He looked up to Darren and Wayne. “Let’s get your lease sorted, shall we?”
Was he just a generous man, happy to help Darren and Wayne, or just a ruthless negotiator? Sophie watched him as they walked back to their recent audience. Either way, she was going to find out.
Chapter Six
Sophie stared up at the apartment building in shock. She checked the address Henry had given her for a third time. Just like the last two times, it matched. West 56th Street. The massive grey stone and glass building rose an impressive seventy-five stories into the air. And, according to the directions he’d given her, Henry’s apartment was at the very top. The top three floors, to be exact. The penthouse.
He didn’t just have money. Henry Medina was money. She wondered again what he did for a living. Darren had urged her to Google the sultry businessman, but Sophie found that somehow seedy and dishonest. Whatever happened to learning about someone for yourself? Still, looking up at the imposing structure, she did wish she’d had some advance knowledge of what to expect.
One Last Dance Page 4