by Celia Styles
Chapter 2
Roni ran her hands over her hips, wiping away the thin layer of sweat that wanted to live there. Nicolás Aguirre was finishing up with his last class of the day. She thought she saw him roll his eyes when some housewife stepped the wrong direction during their last run through of the samba.
She was actually standing in the same room as Nicolás Aguirre.
Her heart was pounding. It took her nearly an hour to decide what to wear. She changed a dozen times, finally deciding on a pair of yoga pants and a hot pink tank top. Now she was wondering if she should have worn something less skin tight. It seemed like everyone in the room was wearing skin tight clothes—even a few who shouldn’t have been. It was like all of his students were there to seduce him rather than learn a few dance steps.
Roni couldn’t deny that the idea hadn’t crossed her mind. The idea of catching the attention of a man like Nicolás was more erotic than the thought of the actual act of intimacy that could follow. But watching these women was like having a mirror held up to force her to see her own reality.
She’d wanted to be in this room, to be this close to Nicolás, for a long time. But now that she was here, she kind of wanted to slink away and hide in a dark hole somewhere.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Nicolás said, “that is the end of our hour. Please remember to practice the new steps this week so that we can add a few more next week.”
“There are more?” a man groaned just before his female companion elbowed him in the gut.
Nicolás turned away, didn’t even bother to acknowledge the man. Instead, he disappeared through a door at the back of the room.
A woman sat beside Roni to change out of her heels and slip into a pair of tennis shoes.
“Are you a friend of Nicolás?”
“No. I’m here for a private lesson.”
“Oh?” The woman looked at Roni, her eyes racking over her and then dismissing her as though she was not impressed by what she saw. “I hear he’s really picky about the people he accepts for private lessons.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
“How did you manage to convince him?”
Roni shrugged, her gaze moving back to the door where Nicolás had disappeared. “It wasn’t me. A friend of mine bought a week of lessons for my birthday.”
“Okay,” the woman said, as though that explained everything. “Well, enjoy it because that week is probably all you’ll get.” Then she grabbed her stuff and walked out.
The room emptied quickly and Roni was left sitting there all alone. The room seemed so big without all those people in it. And there was nothing to look at except the windows, which had been turned into mirrors by the darkness beyond, and the actual mirrors that adorned two of the other three walls.
If there was anything Roni hated more, it was looking at herself in a mirror. Especially when she was nervous.
It occurred to her that Nicolás might have forgotten she was there. She wondered if she should just leave. This was…it was really a bad idea. What if she made a fool of herself in front of her idol? Or worse, what if he turned out to be a real jerk?
She stood, was about to slip out of the red heels she chose to wear during her lesson—they just seemed appropriate to the passion of the tango—when he strode into the room.
Damn, he was handsome!
Dressed in skin tight jazz pants and a white t-shirt, his muscles were clearly on display. She watched as he crossed to the stereo system he had set up against the far wall, as he bent low and scrolled through the iPod’s menu. It wasn’t just when he danced that he displayed amazing amounts of grace. It was there when he walked, when he squatted, when he studied the screen on the iPod. He was unlike any man Roni had ever known before. He was deliberate in his movements, controlled. And he was sexy as all hell.
Her hands actually itched to touch him. She wanted to run her fingers through that long, thick, dark hair, wanted to feel the power of those muscles, wanted to—
“Your friend told my assistant that you want to learn the tango.”
“Yes,” Roni choked out, her cheeks burning as she attempted to drag her thoughts out of the gutter.
“Have you any dance experience?”
“Not really. I took a class in college, but we didn’t do much ballroom type dances.”
He nodded, still studying the iPod. She waited, feeling more and more conspicuous as it seemed to take him hours to pick his playlist. But, finally, soft music began to play—nothing like the Latin inspired music she had expected, but more of an muzak kind of thing—and he stood, turning his attention on her…she couldn’t breathe for a moment as he approached her with the most amazing smile.
“Nicolás Aguirre,” he said, his hand outstretched.
“Roni…Veronica Sanders.”
“Veronica. That’s a beautiful name. Classical.”
He stared at her a moment, his gaze intense. She felt another blush bloom on her cheeks, the heat making her hand sweat again even as he continued to hold it.
“I, um, I’m a fan,” she said, feeling stupid the moment it was out of her mouth.
“A fan? Of me?”
She nodded. “I’ve watched almost all of your competitions on YouTube.”
He inclined his head with a little Latin flare, that smile growing brighter. “I am flattered.”
Roni didn’t know what to say to that.
He seemed intent on studying her, his eyes again moving slowly over her face. This time, though, his eyes dipped down, running slowly over the length of her body. Again she wished she had worn something else, something less revealing. But he didn’t seem dissatisfied when his eyes met hers again.
“Come, we’ll start with the basic steps.”
He led her into the center of the room, her hand still caught in his. Then he gestured to the wall of mirrors in front of them.
“The tango is comprised of a simple four step-slide combination. Three steps forward, one sideways, then the slide.” He let go of her hand and moved in front of her, holding out his arms like he was holding a partner. Then he executed the steps with exaggerated precision. “You see?”
Roni nodded.
“For the woman, however, it is all done backwards.” He smiled again. “Everything is always so much harder for the woman.”
She smiled too, but her hands were shaking and she was staring at his feet. It was surreal being here with him, listening to him speak to her like they were just two, normal people who’d met at a club or something.
He took hold of her chin and lifted her head.
“It is best to look your dance partner in the eye.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged—even that movement was graceful!—and gestured to his feet. “I do it one more time and then you follow, okay?”
She nodded.
The thing was, Roni knew the basic steps. She’d watched enough videos to be able to dance it in her sleep. And she practiced in her room dozens of times over the past few days in preparation for this. But when it came time for her to do it in front of Nicolás? Her feet just wouldn’t listen to the signals from her brain.
After screwing it up a fifth time, Nicolás moved up behind her and set his hands on her hips. Her bones threatened to turn to liquid. She wasn’t sure how she was going to survive this when it was time for them to actually dance together.
“Back one, two,” he said, his lips practically against her ear.
She moved, so aware of his hands that she was almost afraid to move her hips. That, of course, was not what he wanted.
“Do not be stiff like a board. The tango is sensuous. Your body should be relaxed, ready for whatever might come next.”
Roni nodded, but she could still feel the stiffness in her body as she attempted to run through the steps again. But he didn’t seem to notice—or he was simply being nice.
“Better.”
They worked like that the entire hour, him standing behind her with his hands on her hips,
she facing the mirror and dancing backward. A few times she got carried away and pressed her shoulders into his chest. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, once when she moved back too far, he let his hands slide over her belly, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to the top of the waist of her pants. Just as she found herself hoping he would keep his hands there, he pulled back, his hands firmly on her hips again.
And then the hour was over.
“That was a good start.”
“You’re kind,” she said as she sat down to change her shoes. “But that was kind of horrible.”
“No. You’d be surprised how bad some of my students are the first night. But you…you have some natural talent.”
And that was probably the most incredible thing anyone had ever said to her.
Chapter 3
Roni returned the next evening, dressed again in yoga pants and a thin, white tank top that revealed nearly every inch of the black sports bra she had on underneath. Sue had laughed when she saw her, but she didn’t have anything else to say. Just told her to have a great time.
Roni didn’t care what Sue or anyone else thought. This was a fantasy come true and she wasn’t going to waste a second of it.
He smiled when he saw her walk in even as he was moving among his students, touching a back here, an arm there, to make sure their form was perfect.
Roni took a seat and changed her shoes, feeling almost sexy in the red heels. She’d never been big on wearing heels—couldn’t understand how some women could do it every day—but when she looked down at her feet now, she loved the way her ankles looked, the way her feet seemed smaller inside the elegant style of the shoes.
Nicolás dismissed his class a moment later and stood next to the stereo system as they filed out. He changed the music with a quick flick against the iPod’s screen, filling the big, empty room with the soft strains of something classical. Roni almost wished she knew more about this kind of music just so she could remember every detail of this moment.
He approached her with both hands outstretched.
“Today, we dance together.”
Roni stood and almost immediately tripped over her own toes. Nicolás caught her, his hands sliding over her back as her face landed square in the center of his chest.
How embarrassing!
“You must slow down. Nothing is so important that we must rush to do it.”
Roni nodded as she pulled back, but he didn’t seem to be in a real hurry to let her go. His hands pressed into her back for a second, tugging her closer to him for just that instant. And then he stepped back, making a ceremony of taking her hand and leading her out to the center of the floor.
“Face me,” he said softly.
Roni turned, trying to meet his gaze, but her heart was pounding so hard and she was so embarrassed by her little trip that she couldn’t. But he wasn’t going to let her get away with staring at the center of his chest for the rest of the lesson. He touched her chin, lifting her head.
“I won’t bite.”
“Actually, he will if you ask him to.”
Roni turned and found herself looking at another specimen of male perfection. He was tall, perhaps an inch or two taller than Nicolás, his body clearly just as trained, just as perfectly sculpted, his muscles visibly rippling under the jeans and light sweater he was wearing. He had light brown hair cut military style, blue eyes that reminded Roni of cotton candy, and a jaw that just begged to be caressed.
Was it possible to be attracted to two men at the same time? Because Roni couldn’t seem to take her eyes off this stranger even as her body continued to respond to Nicolás’ lingering touch.
“This is Ignacio, my assistant.” Nicolás let go of Roni and turned to this stranger, making something of a bowing gesture as he waved his hand toward Roni. “And this, my dear friend, is Veronica Sanders.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
Roni felt as though she had a permanent blush on her cheeks. Ignacio was checking her out and he wasn’t being even a little subtle about it. When he smiled…she was pretty sure everything feminine about her completely liquefied—or became painfully hard—in that instant.
“Go away, Ignacio,” Nicolás said. “You’re interrupting.”
“Yes, sir,” Ignacio said with a mock salute. “It was very nice to meet you, Miss Veronica. Perhaps we shall run into each other again.”
With that, he disappeared through the same door at the back of the studio Nicolás had gone through the night before.
“Ignacio helps me with the business side of things here. He has a good head for figures.”
“My friend mentioned she bought my certificate from an assistant.”
“Yes.” Nicolás touched her face again to make her look at him. “Now, we dance.”
Nicolás held up his arms in a perfect dancer’s frame and explained to her where her hands should go. She moved close to him—he smelled so good!—and lay her hand low on his hip. And then she waited, but he didn’t move.
“Closer,” he finally said. “The tango requires closeness.”
Roni stepped closer, her hand starting to shake.
“Closer.”
Again she stepped into him. Only then did his hand come to rest on her waist, his other gripping her free hand and pulling it high above her shoulder. But she apparently still wasn’t close enough because he tugged at her body, drawing her hip hard against his.
“The American tango requires the pelvis to be thrust forward while the upper body pulls back.” He tugged at her hips again, pulling her so close that her hipbone was pressed hard against his upper thigh. Then he pressed two fingers to her jaw, turning her head away from him so that she was almost looking over her shoulder. “This is the proper positioning.”
It was awkward. So she was relieved when he said, “Though, that will come later. Right now you can look at me.”
Roni turned into him and their lips were so close, if she had had the courage to kiss him she would only have had to move her head a fraction of an inch.
But she wasn’t that courageous.
He cleared his throat, as though he was as bothered as she.
“Okay, one, two…”
Chapter 4
Roni was humming under her breath as she sat at her desk, staring at a computer screen that could have been filled with meowing kittens for all she knew. Her thoughts were so full of Nicolás that she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else these last few days. Four days of lessons. She was disappointed that tonight would be the last.
“Is he living up to your expectations?”
Roni looked up. Callie was leaning over the wall of her cubicle, watching her with amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Really? Is he really as hot as he looks on those videos?”
An image of Nicolás flooded Roni’s mind, the sight of him twirling her around the dance floor last night. Standing that close to him…she was pretty sure she would never meet anyone else who turned her on quite as much as he did.
Except maybe Ignacio.
Ignacio had come by the studio again last night. Dressed in jeans again, an undershirt the only thing covering his tight chest, she found herself struggling to concentrate on the new steps Nicolás was teaching her. Something about it, her distraction, maybe, made Nicolás laugh. And then she felt guilty, like her thoughts were unfaithful to her feelings for Nicolás. Not that she had a claim on either one. Nicolás was more than professional despite the eroticism of the dance—which was kind of disappointing—and she only saw Ignacio on those two occasions.
“Roni?”
“He’s very professional. Very talented.”
“But is he hot?”
Roni turned back to her computer. “I wouldn’t know. I’m only there to learn a dance.”
Callie made a huffing sound as she turned away. “I guess idols are never quite as good in reality as they are in our heads.”
***
But he was.<
br />
Roni arrived for her final lesson, her heart a little heavy. She had never imagined she would meet Nicolás Aguirre, let alone learn to tango in his arms. But she had and it was more amazing than anything she could have ever imagined. The dance was just as elegant as she had expected, and more. He’d taken her clumsy body and taught it grace. That, in itself, was a miracle. And Nicolás himself was just as kind, charming, and witty as she had ever imagined. When they weren’t dancing, he had her laughing at the silliest little observations…he was everything she had ever thought she wanted in a man and so much more.
And now it was coming to an end.
Ignacio was standing just inside the studio as Roni pulled open the doors, leaning against the wall and watching Nicolás’ evening ballroom class. He smiled when he turned to see who was coming up behind him, a smile that could melt steel.
“Miss Veronica,” he said with a chivalrous nod of the head.
“Hi. How are you?”
He turned back toward the studio. “He works too hard.”
Roni moved up beside him. Nicolás was moving among his dancers—couples—touching a shoulder here, a hip there, making sure their form was perfect. Dressed, as always, in jazz pants and a dark t-shirt, he looked ready to take on the world. But there was a shadow under his eyes, a little dip to his shoulders that made Roni feel bad that she was the reason he wouldn’t be able to call it a night after this class was over.
“Work, work, work,” Ignacio said. “I keep telling him he needs to make time for fun, but he keeps telling me there will be time for that later. When he can no longer dance competitively.”
“That time is a long way off, isn’t it?”
“Not if he keeps pushing himself this hard.” Ignacio sighed. He laid his hand on Roni’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Stubborn man.” Then he walked around her and disappeared through that mysterious back door.
Roni took a seat and slipped off her tennis shoes, then paused to watch Nicolás. He seemed to feel the heat of her stare because he looked over at her and smiled, the dark circles disappearing from under his eyes for a minute. But then one of his couples ran into him and he had to turn back to the job at hand.