by Eden Summers
His heartrate kicked up a notch. “I don’t know the business name.”
Leah released an annoyed sigh, the one she continuously used on Mason and Mitch. “Maybe, if you stop referring to her as Red, and actually put an effort into remembering her given name, you’d find it easy enough.”
Fuck.
“But—”
“Sean,” she growled. “She’s an extremely beautiful and talented woman. If you can’t remember her name, you don’t deserve her number.”
The line went dead.
Typical Leah. She always had the final word. Clearing his cell screen to the main dashboard, he clicked on the online phone directory and then searched for local dance studios. Eleven results displayed on screen. Fucking fantastic. He scrolled through the list, mentally crossing off the businesses that didn’t spark familiarity. Then he found her, and his chest constricted at the name—Melodic Dance.
That was her. Melody. Such a suitable description for a mesmerizing woman. Well, his intoxicated version, anyway.
He saved the number, and committed the address to memory. He knew how to get there. The neighborhood was familiar. All he had to do now was figure out all the ways he’d embarrassed himself last night so his apology sounded legit.
Chapter Six
Melody stood in front of the class of youngsters and clapped her hands to mark the end of the session. “Great job, everyone. I’ll see you all next week.”
A chorus of disappointed grumbling filled the room, and parents stood from their seated positions along the wooden benches lining the front wall. Melody loved the five-to-eight-year-old hip-hop class. It was all about fun and freedom, smiles and slip-ups. The older kids messed around with the young. It was one of the few classes immune from rivalry. It was also the last class of the week, which was an added bonus.
“Come on, kiddos. Don’t get the grumps. I’ll meet you here next Sunday with a new song to mess around to. In the meantime, practice your step-touches and ball-changes. You’ll need them for next week.”
Melody wiped the sweat from her brow with the hem of her shirt and smiled in farewell to some of the parents. It was time to put her feet up and relax. Two days with no classes went by too quickly, and she needed to make the most of tonight when the Monday and Tuesday she usually had off would be spent working herself ragged on the Reckless Beat choreography.
“Did I do good today, Mel?” A sweet voice rose up from beside her before small hands tugged at her shirt.
Melody faced the child and lowered to one knee, grinning at the beautiful six-year-old in front of her. “Of course. As always, you were my best student. Do you know why?”
Juliet’s face brightened with a contagious smile. “Because I have the biggest heart.”
“That’s right, sweetheart.” Melody clutched Juliet’s upper arm and gave a squeeze. Of all her students, this beautiful little girl with brown curls and dark-chocolate eyes was the only one with special needs. Down syndrome. Not once had it affected the child’s ability to illuminate the studio.
Juliet felt the music. She danced without a care for anyone’s opinion. Unlike some of the others, she didn’t blush when she made a mistake. The beat was in her veins, her moves were an extension of her soul, and yes, by far, she danced with the most heart. That was the reason Melody adored the child so much. They had a kinship with dance not everyone understood, especially at Juliet’s age.
“I’ll see you next week. Make sure you practice your tutting.”
Juliet sprang forward, wrapping her tiny arms around Melody’s neck. “I will. I promise.”
“Good girl.” Melody stood, letting the thankful smile of Juliet’s father sink under her skin. There weren’t many moments when her current life held a candle to the professional career she’d lost, but this was one of them. Giving hope to a parent, bringing a smile to a lonely child’s face, it made the harsh reality of her demise the slightest bit easier to bear.
“See you next week, John.” She clapped Juliet’s dad on the shoulder and started scouring the edge of the room, picking up empty food packets her students had left behind.
Once the building was empty, she went through the usual routine of packing up—turning off the surround-sound system, flicking off the lights in the main studio room, and then jogged up the stairs to make sure nobody had snuck up there during the day. When she reached the top step, she stopped, inhaling the dank air as she scanned the wide expanse.
One day, this dark, dreary space would be another studio. The plans were already set in her mind. She would remove the dirty old shutters from outside, letting the sun shine in. The floorboards needed to be sanded and re-polished to sparkling perfection. Then a pretentious chandelier would be installed in the center of the newly painted room, just to appease her deflated ego and give her a daily dose of the glamour she’d lost.
It would take time. Even though the likelihood of her being old and riddled with arthritis before her dream became a reality was more than likely, it didn’t stop her from aiming high. She needed the goal to occupy herself. Silent moments made her compare where she’d been to where she currently was, and those thoughts weren’t pretty. Glitz and glamour, to the burbs and kids. The contrast woke her up in a cold-sweat sometimes. The best years of her life were over, well before she’d anticipated. The only thing dulling the taint of failure was the upcoming project with Reckless Beat.
Working on the choreography for their Fighting Against Attraction clip would be a thrill. Spending time with a guy like Sean while doing it was even better. She hadn’t anticipated being enamored by him. Her career on stage had been spent with some of the biggest names in the music industry, so she had first-hand knowledge of how self-absorbed famous musicians could be. Yet, this morning, she’d woken with a smile on her face and a picture of a handsome man in her mind.
Sean was fun, flirty, and sexy as hell in a scary, threatening kind of way. His appearance would fit well with the mafia, yet that smile and those eyes… She sighed aloud. The differing contrasts of his facial features intrigued her.
They were going to share a lot of laughs together, and hopefully having her name associated with the world famous band would gain exposure with more music bigwigs for her to obtain similar work in the future. All she had to do was sit back and try not to hyperventilate while another dancer performed her moves.
Easier said than done.
With a sad smile, she dragged herself downstairs and retrieved her handbag from the kitchen cupboard before flicking off the light. She did the same in the bathrooms, and finally the hall. There was no use sulking. She’d wasted enough of her life feeling sorry for herself. Her family, despite backing off somewhat, wouldn’t let her continue along that path, and their pestering was a big enough deterrent to remain strong.
She had to deal with the changes in her life. In this new existence, stepping foot on another competition dance floor wasn’t an option. Neither was touring with one of the many singers she’d had the pleasure of working with. She no longer had the desire to have people watch her. The thought of the world seeing her in a skimpy outfit, judging every inch of her skin, made her break out in a cold-sweat.
Never again.
Rummaging through her handbag, she retrieved the studio keys with one hand and switched off the air-conditioner with the other. Outside, the summer heat would be unrelenting, even with the sun mere hours from setting. Her already sweat-slicked skin would swelter on the short walk around the corner to her house, and the inability to dress for the climate was yet another flaw she had to deal with on a daily basis.
With a tug, she flung open the front door, squinting at the bright late-afternoon daylight, and locked the deadbolt behind her.
“You’re good with kids.”
She sucked in a breath at the deep voice directed her way and swung around in alarm.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sean?” Shock and an uncontrollable rush of excitement made her voice high. “What are you
doing here?” She held a hand to her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat as she stole a brief moment to enjoy the man leaning against an electric-blue pickup parked on the side of the road. “Oh, crap, did I get the dates wrong? I was certain we weren’t starting rehearsals until next Sunday.”
She hadn’t even listened to the track yet. Hold up, Leah only gave her the song last night. She frowned, eyeing him skeptically.
“No.” He pushed from the side of the truck and swaggered toward her. “I came to apologize for the way I acted last night. Well, what I can remember, anyway.” He shot her a sheepish grin that made her toes curl in the most delicious way.
“No need to apologize.” She waved away his comment and lowered from the front step onto the sidewalk. “I was honored to be your distraction.”
He groaned, the deeply masculine sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Did I say that?”
She inclined her head, and chuckled when he winced. “Honestly, don’t give it another thought.”
“I feel like the biggest asshole. Leah reminded me of the pixie comments, and pointed out you weren’t too impressed. Then I spilled my drink all over your pants.” He broke eye contact, glancing at her studio. “I was kinda hoping I could get them dry-cleaned for you.”
Free from the scrutiny of his gaze, she grimaced. Her reaction to his drunken slip-up was the only part of the night she regretted. She’d flipped out, panicking at his touch, and caused more of a scene than necessary for the minor accident.
“I’ve been called worse, and don’t worry about my pants. They’re already on the clothes line.”
He remained silent for a moment, his focus turning back to her, scrutinizing. “Damn, Red, you make it hard for a guy to redeem himself.”
She laughed, almost nervously. That was a first. With any other gorgeous man, she would’ve sank into the seduction, flirting and making her interest known. Life was different now. She had scars, mental and physical, and apparently her mojo was no longer equipped to proceed with her usual gusto. “No redemption necessary. I promise.”
“At least let me buy you a coffee. Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?”
Tempting. Oh, so tempting. With the evening sun bearing down on her, making her clothing burn, the only place she needed to be was out of the heat. She contemplated her exhaustion for a moment, the sleepy part of her brain announcing this was going to be a hectic week. Rest was necessary, and her attention-starved ego needed to remember that.
“I shouldn’t.”
Really, she should. It had been an eternity since she enjoyed the company of a man, and apart from his drunken behavior at the engagement party, Sean seemed nice. Last night, his attention empowered her. An addictive sensation she wouldn’t mind experiencing again. She just wasn’t sure if she could handle the repercussions.
“I can’t even buy you a cup of joe?” He frowned. “Seriously? I’m begging here, Red.”
Her grin increased at the nickname, which was funny because in school she would’ve shoulder-checked anyone who made note of her strawberry-blonde hair. The way Sean referred to her long locks made her feel giddy.
“OK, OK.” She held up her hands in surrender. “You can buy me a coffee. I just have to go home and freshen up first.”
“No problem.” His eyes sparkled with mischief she wasn’t sure she should be excited or nervous about. “Have you got a car, or can I drive you?”
She pointed to the left, indicating the start of her street. “My house is around the corner. I’ll get there before you have a chance to start the ignition on your truck. Drive to number five. I’ll leave the front door open. All I need is enough time for a quick shower and a change of clothes.”
His eye sparkle turned into a predatory gleam, making her rethink the offer to leave herself at the mercy of his integrity. “On second thought, maybe you should wait in your truck.”
He released a bark of laughter. “That might be a good idea.”
Eepp. Her heart did a two-step, threatening to explode under the excitement of his flirting. Had it really been that long since a man paid her attention? Christ. She needed to get a grip. She also needed to remember she had too much baggage to take this flirting to another level.
“It was a joke,” she muttered, feeling embarrassed all over again. “I’ll meet you at home.”
She strode past him, determined to get under the spray of a cold shower before she made a fool of herself. When she reached the street corner, she chanced a glance over her shoulder, immediately regretting the decision.
Sean was still on the sidewalk, watching her, melting her with his interest. The grin hadn’t left his features. His predatory gleam still made her belly flutter. It was torture to drag her gaze away from him. The need to break into a jog as she crossed the road was pure humiliation.
It wasn’t until she was in the sanctuary of her house, the wall of pictures taunting her in the living room, that reality sank in. She strode to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. This was last night all over again. She was playing a role, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Someone she couldn’t be anymore. It wasn’t right. So why did it feel so good?
Sean’s interest washed away the aching, grey depression she’d been harboring. For fleeting moments, she was transported back in time, to a place where men adored her and women wanted to be her.
It was thrilling. A rush.
She yanked her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor, along with her bra. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to continue the charade. She’d shower, put on a little lipstick, perfume, and a revealing top and pretend she was the hypnotizing, successful dancer from her past. She was kidding herself that it wouldn’t compound her problems for a later date, but the pain of the last year had been never-ending. Sean gave her a glimpse of excitement. She was strong enough to know she needed what he had to give.
Her hands moved to the waistband of her yoga pants, and her heart climbed to her throat. This was the part of the day she loathed—when she could no longer ignore reality and had to be reminded why she would never be truly happy again. She pushed the material down her thighs and swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. When her fingers brushed mutilated flesh, she closed her eyes and shoved her pants to the floor.
Without opening her eyes, the image of her left leg was taunting her from her mind, making nausea creep up her throat. From the side of her hip to her knee, the skin was repulsive. Red, indented, with jagged lighter scars around the outside. She tried to ignore it the best she could. She’d even learned to suppress the constant pain by occupying herself with dance lessons or exercise. Music helped, too. It was when her mind was blank, usually at night when she was trying to sleep, that hatred and loss consumed her.
In the last eleven months, she’d learned to hide her secret and pretend nothing in her life had changed apart from her career. Nobody knew. Nobody around here anyway. Not even her family. Almost a year had passed, filled with too many doctor’s appointments, creams, rehab, and the need for tears she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. And still she couldn’t bring herself to show anyone the real person she hid underneath her clothes. Not her loved ones, not strangers, and definitely not an orgasm-inducing man like Sean Taiden.
“Remember that, Melody,” she muttered to herself. She needed to drum it into her head, with a set of Sean’s sticks if necessary. There was no room in her life for any more loss or humiliation. She wouldn’t survive it. The only problem was, she couldn’t go on the way she was living either. Pretending to be the old Melody may just be the lush middle ground.
Chapter Seven
Sean admired the woman striding toward him in a pair of baggy cargo pants that hid the shape of her legs, and an oh-so-tight black camisole, giving him more than a glimpse of her firm rack. His drunken visions from the night before hadn’t been a hallucination. If anything, his memory did injustice to the beauty before him. She wasn’t just a pixie. She was a temptress and a feminine goddess all in one.
“A
pprove?”
He raised his gaze to her face, mentally shaking himself. “Pardon?”
She stopped a few feet away and flung her arms out at her sides. “The way you’re scrutinizing me makes me wonder if I’m suitably dressed.”
Suitably dressed for coffee, just not for what I have on my mind.
“You look great.” He softened his perusal and mentally acknowledged that he shouldn’t leer. He couldn’t help it. She was hot. “Are you ready to go?”
She patted her left, then her right pocket, and smiled. “Yep. All set.”
You sure? I’m happy to give you a secondary pat down.
The corner of her lips lifted in a knowing smirk, and she rolled her eyes. “You don’t believe in subtlety, do you?”
“I didn’t say a thing.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Her grin was so damn adorable, but he was still uncertain how to navigate her. He was used to the easy pickings of Mason’s scraps. Before Sidney, women flocked to his best friend. All Sean had to do was sit back and wait for the castaways. It was a shitty routine, never ceasing to make him feel worthless in the lead singer’s shadow. However, it was a routine nonetheless.
Sourcing women by himself only meant the females would stumble over their stiletto heels in a lust-filled frenzy once they did finally meet Mason. Either way, Sean was left feeling insignificant. There was less work involved if he seduced women alongside the world-famous front man. And apparently, he’d been content being lazy because he hadn’t bothered to figure out a better way to get laid.
“Let’s get out of here.” He yanked open the passenger-side door and convinced himself to cool down. Pushing too hard to try and keep Sidney off his mind would only endeavor to shove Red away. He needed to chill. To stop the flirting. Or at least soften the intensity.
He left the door ajar for her, and strode around the hood of the truck to climb into the driver’s seat. With a hard rev of the engine, he reversed out of her drive and onto the quiet street. The purr of the motor was the only thing filling the empty silence as he drove, clueless at what to say to prove he wasn’t the douchebag he’d made himself out to be. Awkwardness grew with every passing mile until Red’s stomach released a grumble loud enough to be heard over the low hum of the radio.