by Pamela Bauer
“She’s not working today. She’s at the dance studio.”
“Isn’t that on the same block as the co-op?”
“Yes, but she doesn’t get off until eight and I need a few things for dinner. You don’t mind stopping, do you?”
“No, of course not.” Most certainly he did not. Ever since this morning he’d been contemplating what he should do about Maddie. Now an unexpected opportunity presented itself. He’d be a fool not to make the most of it.
“Do you want to come in?” his mother asked when he’d parked the car in the lot next to the co-op.
“I think I’m going to take a walk up the block. There’s a computer shop I’d like to check out,” he told her, nodding toward the street. “How about if I meet you back here in say…twenty minutes?”
“Is that enough time for you to get what you need?” she asked.
“I think so.” He handed her the keys. “Just in case it’s not, why don’t you take these?”
She pocketed the keys, then headed toward the co-op’s automatic doors. Dylan went in the opposite direction. He crossed the street but didn’t stop when he reached the computer shop. He kept on going until he came to a window that had “Diandra’s School of Dance” written across it.
When he pulled open the door, a bell jingled, causing the woman seated at the front desk to glance up at him.
She wore a black leotard, her dark hair tucked up into a knot on the top of her head. In her hands was a piece of satin to which she was gluing sequins. Music could be heard in the background, a tune that sounded slightly familiar to Dylan, as well as the clicking of tap shoes on the floor. He could hear a woman’s voice calling out, “Brush and stamp, brush and stamp, and turn.”
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“I’m looking for Maddie Lamont. Is she here?”
“Yes, but she’s with a class.” She glanced up at the clock. “She’ll be finished in about five minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat if you’d like to wait.”
Instead of sitting down on the narrow bench that stretched the length of the lobby, he stood in front a wall that was covered with photographs. Children wearing brightly colored costumes that resembled jungle animals posed with their toes turned out and their arms pointed upward. His eyes moved across the wall until they landed on a picture of the instructors. There were four women all wearing leotards with skirts made from yellow, orange and green feathers. Maddie was by far the most striking of the group.
The sound of children’s voices had him glancing toward the black velvet curtain separating the studio from the lobby. It opened and a steady stream of little girls, all wearing leotards and tap shoes, filed through, followed by moms carrying backpacks and jackets.
The woman from the reception desk motioned to him. “It’s going to be noisy out here until they get their shoes changed.” She pushed aside the curtain, indicating he should follow her.
“Maddie, someone’s here for you,” the young woman called out, then slipped back through the curtain, leaving them alone.
Maddie stood in the opposite corner of the room next to a small table holding a tape player. Dylan thought she looked fragile and delicate, her slim figure covered by a black leotard, a sheer pink skirt around her waist. On her feet were black ballet slippers and her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. She had her back to him, but watched his approach through the floor-to-ceiling mirror that lined the wall. As usual, when he saw her, he felt the stirring of desire.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror as he came toward her.
“No. I just wanted to see you,” he answered honestly.
She was uncomfortable with his directness. “I have a group of eleven-and twelve-year-olds coming in a few minutes,” she told him, breaking eye contact to sort through a stack of cassette tapes in front of her.
“That’s okay. I’m only going to stay for a few minutes.” He kept walking toward her until he was standing next to her. “What time do you finish today?”
“My last class ends at eight.”
“You get a dinner break?”
“Normally I do, but we’re short-staffed this week so I’m not taking one.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to eat dinner after you’ve finished work.”
She looked up then. “We?”
“I need to talk to you, Maddie. We might as well do it over dinner.”
“That’s not a good idea,” she protested.
He stepped closer until his face was only inches from hers. “What? Talking or eating dinner.”
She made a sound of impatience. “Both.”
“You’re wrong. It is a good idea.” He longed to touch her but knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. She looked past his shoulder, as if worried that the other woman might walk in and see something she wasn’t supposed to see.
“What is it you want to talk to me about?” she asked.
“My mother.”
She frowned. “Are you sure that’s all?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you, Maddie.” He stared into eyes that reminded him of the ocean on a clear hot day. He wondered if she even had a clue as to the power in them. “I mean it. I want to talk to you about my mother.”
She made him wait for her answer. “All right. I’ll talk to you, but we’re not having dinner together. For one thing, I didn’t bring a change of clothes. All I have is my warm-up suit to put over this.”
“Okay, so dinner at Forepaugh’s is out. What time are you finished here?”
“I’m done at eight, but I usually stay an extra twenty minutes or so.”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up here at eight-thirty.”
“That’s not necessary. I have my truck. Why don’t I just meet you at home?”
“Because we’re not having this talk at the house.”
The sound of giggling alerted him to the fact they were no longer alone. He glanced in the mirror and saw three gangly schoolgirls had entered the studio.
“Can we come in, Maddie?” one of them asked.
“Yes. It’s okay,” she called back. Then she looked at him. “I’m really not prepared to go anywhere for dinner.”
“Sure you are,” he told her with an appreciative glance up and down her slender body. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you someplace where you won’t have to take off your coat.” Then he whispered in her ear. “Be happy I don’t kiss you right here and give those little girls something to really giggle about.”
“ALL RIGHT. So where are we having this talk about your mother?” Maddie asked Dylan as they stepped out of the dance studio and into the cold air.
He took her hand in his and led her toward his father’s car. “Someplace where you won’t need to worry about being seen with me.”
“And why should I worry about that?”
He looked her in the eye and said, “Maybe you should tell me the answer to that one.”
She didn’t say another word until they were seated in the car. “As far as I’m concerned, we could have had this discussion at home in front of your mother.”
“No, we couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“It just wouldn’t be a good idea. You’ll see,” he said, then closed the door on her and went around to the driver’s side.
Once he was seated behind the wheel, he started the engine and Shania Twain’s voice filled the inside of the car.
She tilted her head and asked, “So you really are a fan of hers?”
“I am now. I bought this CD this afternoon and I like it. She’s good.”
“Yes, she is.” Maddie didn’t want it to matter to her that he’d bought the CD simply because he knew she liked the singer, but she couldn’t help feeling good about it. Jeffrey always rolled his eyes whenever she mentioned country music, and he refused to let her play any of her tapes when he was with her.
Not in the mood for conversation, Maddie sat quietly while Dylan drove, content to sit back and listen to t
he music. It wasn’t long before he pulled into a parking lot next to an arena.
“This is it,” he announced, turning off the engine.
“You brought me to an ice arena to talk about your mother?”
“And to eat.” He jumped out of the car and came around to open her door. “I love the hot dogs here.” As she climbed out of the car he added, “Don’t worry. You can keep your coat and warm-up suit on.”
“It’s going to be an expensive hot dog,” she told him as he slid several bills under the glass window of the ticket booth.
“We’ll get a little hockey along with the dogs,” he said with a wink. “A friend of mine coaches the team I played on when I was in high school. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to see most of the third period.” He ushered her into the concessions area. “What’s it going to be? Chili dog or plain dog?” he asked as they stood in front of the food vendor.
“Plain.”
“What about a soda?”
“Anything diet.”
While he placed the order, she went to the condiment counter, pulling napkins from the metal holder and getting straws from the dispenser. When he set his cardboard tray down on the counter next to the condiments, she noticed he had ice-cream cups sandwiched between the paper cups.
“Dessert.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “It’s chocolate.” He unwrapped the hot dogs. “You like relish and mustard?”
She shook her head. “Just ketchup.”
“Me, too.” He squirted a generous amount of ketchup on the hot dogs, then wrapped them back up in the foil. A roar from the arena had him saying, “Somebody must have scored.”
If Maddie had expected he’d talk to her about his mother once they were seated, she was wrong. With the game tied, he only wanted to focus on the action on the ice. She could understand why. It was an exciting finish with Dylan’s alma mater coming out on top.
When it was over, he led her down the steps to the ice where he introduced her to the winning coach. Maddie didn’t protest when he continued to hold her hand, even though she knew the other man would assume she was his date.
When the coach suggested they get together for dinner before Dylan went back to Saint Martin, Maddie knew that he meant the four of them—he and his wife, Dylan and Maddie. Dylan agreed it would be fun, then ended with, “It’s up to Maddie. She’s the one with the busy schedule.”
As they made their way to the exit, she confronted him about his remarks. “You led him to believe that we’re a couple.”
“Did I? It wasn’t intentional.”
She made a sound of disbelief.
“All right, I confess. I like having you at my side. I think we could make a pretty neat couple, Maddie.”
She didn’t want to admit to him that the thought had crossed her mind more than once this past week. “Dylan, you got me to come out with you tonight because you told me you wanted to talk about your mother.”
“That wasn’t a lie.”
“And how is going to a hockey game and being introduced as your girlfriend talking about your mother?” she asked as they waited for the crowd to slowly disperse through the exit gates.
“We’re just getting to that point. We needed to eat and watch the hockey game first,” he answered, placing his left arm around her protectively as they were jostled slightly in the crowded corridor.
“And now we’ve eaten and watched the game.” She looked at him expectantly.
He pulled her out of the mass of people making their way to the exit into a corridor that was nearly deserted except for a few maintenance workers who were getting ready to sweep the floor.
“Mom shouldn’t have been your romance coach,” he stated evenly.
She wrinkled her nose. “What are you talking about?”
“This morning. When she told you to stick with Jeffrey. She gave you bad advice.”
A sick feeling snaked its way through her stomach and up into her throat. “How do you know about that?”
“I had to get something out of the basement and, when I walked past the kitchen, I couldn’t help but hear some of your conversation,” he told her.
“How much?”
“Enough to know that Mom shouldn’t have said what she did.”
Maddie folded her arms in front of her. “And what did you hear that you think she shouldn’t have said?”
“That if you stay friends with a man long enough you’ll discover the love of your life. Maddie, you’re a passionate woman. You deserve more than companionship.”
Not wanting to admit she didn’t have passion with Jeffrey, she said, “I don’t think you heard all of our discussion.”
He didn’t argue the point but asked, “Did you tell Mom about us?”
“There is no us.”
She saw his eyes darken, then he removed his arm from the sling.
“What are you doing?” she asked, although the look in his eyes left her little doubt as to what was going to happen. It didn’t matter that they were only a few feet from a steady stream of people making their way to the exit. She knew, before his mouth ever touched hers, that he was going to kiss her. She also knew that she was going to do nothing to stop him.
Because she wanted it as much as he did. There was no point in trying to resist the powerful longing that had her lips parting and her hands reaching for him.
It was a kiss that made her body tremble and her mind question how it could feel so right when it should have felt all wrong. Yet she didn’t want to think, only to feel. His mouth beneath hers. His tongue touching hers. The delicious tremors of desire spreading through her, telling her that she needed him.
A loud whistle brought the kiss to an end. Maddie blushed as she realized that although most of the crowd had left, some teenagers waited in the lobby for their parents to pick them up.
Dylan didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. He brushed her lips lightly one more time, then pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.
“You shouldn’t listen to my mom,” he said quietly.
“And who should I listen to?”
“Your heart.” He reached for her hand and shoved it through the opening in her jacket so that it lay close to her breast. “Feel how it’s beating? Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Now feel mine.” He moved her hand until it was against his chest.
She liked the pulsating rhythm beneath her fingertips.
“Ever since that night I walked into my mother’s living room and saw you standing there, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Maddie.” His eyes roved over her face, studying it as if it were an artist’s masterpiece. “Something happens when we’re together. You feel it, too, don’t you?”
She nodded. “It’s a little scary,” she admitted.
“For me, too. I didn’t expect to come home and find somebody who makes me feel this way.” He lifted her chin with his fingertips and stared into her eyes. “I only have a few weeks to be here. I’d like to spend them with you, but if you tell me that’s not what you want, I’ll respect that. I won’t send any more flowers. I’ll give you the Shania Twain tickets. I’ll stay away from you, Maddie.”
She could have told him she was in love with Jeffrey and had no interest in him.
But she couldn’t, because it wasn’t true. “I like being with you, Dylan,” she told him, causing his eyes to gleam in satisfaction. “And just for the record, I believe I told you a while back that I didn’t need a romance coach.”
“Does that mean…”
“I didn’t take your mom’s advice. I followed my own instincts. Before I went to the dance studio today, I stopped at Jeffrey’s and told him I thought we needed some time apart.”
“You’re not friends anymore?”
“I hope we’ll always be friends. He’s a good man,” she told him.
“Believe it or not, there have been occasions people have actually referred to me in those terms,” he told her, the corners of his mouth quirking into a grin. “I can
be good, Maddie.”
It was said with such a devilish glint in his eye she couldn’t help but grin. He planted a quick kiss on her lips, then his face grew sober.
“Our being together isn’t going to make it awkward for you with my family, is it?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure and admitted it. “Your mom’s very fond of Jeffrey and he’s Garret’s friend, too.”
He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier for you.” Suddenly the lights dimmed. “I think that’s our signal to leave,” he said with a wry smile.
She looped her arm through his and they headed toward the exit. “Thanks for bringing me to the game. I like hockey.”
“Good, because I do, too.”
“So we have something in common.”
“Maddie, I think over the next few weeks you’re going to discover we have a lot more in common than you realize.” It sounded like a promise.
She hoped he was right.
CHAPTER TEN
Dear Leonie: I can’t explain it, but I’ve never felt such a strong connection to anyone before as I do to this guy I’ve been seeing. It scares me. I don’t want to fall in love with him, but I’m afraid that’s what’s happening. What should I do?
Signed: Not ready for love
Leonie says: Falling in love isn’t always a choice. Sometimes it finds you whether you’re ready or not.
“YOU’RE UP EARLY,” Maddie remarked when Dylan entered the kitchen on Saturday morning. She had on her warm-up suit and her hair was in a ponytail, which he knew was an indication that she was going to the dance studio.
“I could say the same about you. What time do you start work on Saturdays?” he asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
She stood at the sink washing up the few dishes she’d used for breakfast. “My first class is at eight.”
He moved closer until they were side-by-side, though he had his back against the counter while she faced it. He liked the way she looked in the morning, her face freshly scrubbed, the faint hint of strawberries in her hair.