During her next lower and lift, AJ removed his hold from her waist, but held one hand a hair’s width from her lower back in case she required a quick spot. “Siobhan, don’t operate under that kind of misconception. Walking in tandem with God and following His will doesn’t mean there won’t be setbacks, hardships, and tribulation. In fact, most times the opposite is true. Satan just loves to wreak havoc on a believer’s soul.”
She tagged his gaze in the mirror, continuing her pliés. “Therefore?”
“Therefore, don’t let him. And keep something else in mind. From our bleakest points, God brings joy.”
Her hard breathing, brought about by emotions and exertion began to even. AJ stepped aside at that point, allowing her space to cool down. He sat on the floor and drew up his knees, wrapping his arms around them loosely.
And he decided to toss out an idea that brewed. “Would you like me to be there? At the meeting?”
Siobhan spun, echoes of her natural grace and smooth agility rising to the surface. She tilted her head and gave him a look rife with hope and tempered by vulnerability. “You’d do that?”
“In a heartbeat.” He let that sink in for a second or two and was rewarded by the ripening pink of her skin. “I’m not your doctor anymore, Siobhan. Not in an official capacity. Still, my opinion and history with your case might help.”
“If you were there”—her chest rose and fell on a deep breath—”I just might survive. I’d appreciate that, Coop. Very much.” Shyly she avoided his eyes for a moment. “Seems you’re not just a skilled physician, you’re a brilliant therapist as well.”
“My job requires knowledge of both, yes.” Beyond that, he kept mum for the time being, now eager to let her in on a little secret she just might enjoy. First things first, though. Therapy. “In order to continue progressing you’re going to have to keep two things in mind. First, don’t be afraid of the pain. Lean in and push through it. Second, learn to trust your legs again.”
AJ lifted to his feet and went to the table where the docking station stood. “Time to do some stretches. You need to rebuild those muscles.” A number of long, colorful scarves trailed from pegs on the nearby wall. He pulled one away and handed it to Siobhan. “You know the drill. Lay down on the mat, grab each end of the scarf and wrap it around your foot to maintain support and tension as you lift and pull.”
“You’re quite good at this.”
“I moonlight as a dance coach.”
“Funny.”
Once she completed her stretching exercises, she grabbed a t-shirt from her duffle and yanked it on. She joined AJ who had returned to his sitting position on the ground, this time with his legs stretched comfortably. She settled next to him once more, and a wave of tentative emotion swept across his nerve endings. This time, he obliterated that reaction, making a decision to go for broke and reveal a bit more about himself.
“I like your fashion statement.” With a nod, he indicated the freshly donned garment.
Siobhan looked down, pulling slightly at the edge of her dark green shirt lettered in white script which read, I’m Irish. What’s your super power? Her lips curved upward. “Thanks. It was a get well gift from Maeve and her family.”
AJ stood and held out a hand. “Come with me. I’m going to show you my super power. Since you’ve been kind enough to ask and all.”
She giggled. Granted, the sound was brief, but still, that joyful sound pushed to life. “You’re a healer. That’s more than enough of a super power for me.”
“Not quite.”
What he intended to do had nothing to do with rehab and recovery or physical limitations. Where he longed to take her next was all about the psychological—he ached to soothe her wounded spirit.
The effort it took for AJ to draw Siobhan to her feet was nominal; she remained incredibly graceful, despite her injury. He led her to the center of the studio then strode to the techno set up where Siobhan’s phone remained docked.
“When I came in, you were listening to Big Daddy Weave. You a fan of their music?” Siobhan nodded. “I am, too, although I’m also a Group1Crew guy.” He didn’t give either of them time to dwell on anything but the present moment. Nothing meant more to him than helping her reach deep and recover. He longed to connect with her, yes, but most of all he wanted her to reclaim what was rightfully hers—the gift of dance.
He switched out her phone for his and stroked through his playlist until the song “He Said” was highlighted. Once he tapped the selection, music filled the air once again, and he didn’t miss a beat before sweeping Siobhan into his arms and moving smoothly, precisely, across the space of the room. Coop absorbed her surprise-widened eyes which sparkled like sunlight on crystal blue water. She smiled and let out a soft sound as they drifted and spun.
“You…you’re…you can dance. Really well.”
She was breathless. That tickled him, so did her increased smile. In her countenance he detected tantalizing traces of effervescence, of joy. He happened to look at their joined hands and noticed something else. She had goose bumps, and he could swear he felt her heart beat against his chest.
This was becoming dangerous—tricky in the extreme because this interlude was leagues away from the doctor/patient relationship that originally brought them together—the type of relationship in which he thrived and felt most comfortable. Here and now he craved permanence. He wanted much more from her than a return to good health and professional-centric gratitude.
Music drifted around them like a cloud as they moved. Then, he lifted her and spun. “Like I told you in the hospital, the ways the human body functions, moves, achieves flow and balance and maneuverability has always fascinated me. Dance is one of the truest means to test and experience that miracle, so I learned. I was taught because it fascinated me. That’s how I know about gallops and four-counts and extensions.”
He made certain no pressure came to rest on her injured leg. He wanted nothing to impede on her freedom as they moved. He lifted her again and performed a second spin. By design, he pampered her, doing all he could to separate Siobhan from the nightmare her accident had left behind. Victory arrived when she relaxed fully and synched her movements with his. From there they simply floated…together.
The song came to an end. Refusing to reconsider what he wanted to do next, AJ cupped her face. A gentle stroke of his thumb against her lower lip caused Siobhan to tremble against his hold. Her lashes fluttered; an answering shiver vibrated against the palm he smoothed down her arm and flattened against the small of her back to keep her steady—and close. He closed his eyes, releasing this moment to the deepest wish of his heart. AJ lowered his head and captured her sweet, waiting lips with his own. When he sensed her sinking against him, AJ landed them against the solid support of a nearby wall. For precious moments, he allowed the kiss to build, to speak love’s vivid language.
All too soon he knew he needed to temper this consuming exchange. By soft and gentle degrees, he slowed things and then inched away. Still he held her face between his hands, stroking her jaw, resting his forehead against hers.
“And that concludes today’s display of my super power.” His voice was rough. Affected.
“Which is?” She whispered the words, sliding her fingertips against his forearms.
“Dancing, coupled with the ability to make a weeping angel feel joy again.”
She leaned back and tilted her head. Her eyes lit with a playful spark. “Well now you’ve gone and done it, you big cad.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve managed to completely ruin my wonderful little pity party.”
He burst into laughter, resting a cheek against the crown of her head when she leaned against him, visibly tired and spent. “After everything you’ve just put yourself through, you’ve more than earned a hit of gourmet java. Interested?”
“Absolutely. Let me throw on a pair of sweat pants and get my purse.”
Siobhan wove her fingers through his and led the way d
own a narrow hallway and opened the door to her office. AJ stepped inside after her and came to an abrupt stop, hammer-struck by what he saw.
An unframed canvas, done in sepia tones, hung centered above Siobhan’s desk. In the photograph, she was framed in perfect profile, her arms a graceful arc above her head, her legs fully extended in a leap that was stunning in its fluid lines and symmetric grace. She wore a dark colored leotard and a calf-length skirt that rippled against her body.
The photo snagged his focus and refused to let it go.
“Wow.”
Siobhan looked back at him in question. Realizing the reason for his outburst, a tide of red flowed up her neck and cheeks. She grabbed her purse and hoisted the strap against her shoulder. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and AJ noticed her trembling fingertips.
She crossed the room, intent upon leaving, and he touched her arm. “Not so fast. Where was that taken?”
Siobhan expelled a breath and turned back. Reluctance slowed her motions, shadowed her eyes. “Carnegie Hall.”
Carnegie. AJ’s jaw dropped. Couldn’t be helped. “Siobhan, it’s incredible. I can feel your energy.” Deliberately he caught her eye. “And your passion.”
She nodded and once again turned to leave. AJ remained rooted to the spot, staring. Part of him wanted to challenge her to open up, but another part, the stronger part, stayed transfixed simply because of the beauty of the photograph.
Siobhan propped a hip against her desk and fiddled with the strap of her purse. She looked at the ground rather than the striking work of art hung in prominence.
“It was my senior year at the New York Dance Academy,” she began. “We performed at Carnegie, and the school hired a professional photographer to take individual shots. This one was mine.”
She shrugged the matter aside, turned yet again to attempt retreat. Once more, AJ refused that goal, standing with feet planted.
Pursing her lips, Siobhan paused for a moment before looking into his eyes. “It was such a fantastic moment. I came alive on that stage—it was the thrill of a lifetime. I’ll never, ever forget it.”
“I can only imagine…and I can’t wait to see that”—he gestured toward the photo—”for myself.”
Words faded to silence. The flesh-and-blood woman who stood before him took in a stuttered breath, head tipped to search his face. She was so small, yet so powerful in impact. AJ touched her cheek, absorbing the silky texture of her skin when his fingertips glided slowly along her creamy neck.
“That said, I won’t hold us up any longer. I can tell you’re ready to leave.”
Siobhan didn’t respond except for the brief, telling wrinkle of thought that creased her forehead.
****
Once Siobhan was alone, once AJ returned her to the studio and quietly clicked the door closed behind him, she sank against the wall and pressed a hand against her chest. Had the past few hours really just happened? Siobhan forgot all about the world around her, the pain, even dance, as she lost herself in the memory of his touch—and the way he had soothed her ragged senses.
Then there was that mind-blowing kiss…a kiss so perfect, so sweet and reverent it had lifted Siobhan away from everything that clouded her mind, and heart. She had drifted into him in an eloquent beat of love and longing that still moved through her system hours later. A kiss so powerful it reminded Siobhan of how beautiful it felt to float and spiral through air with nothing holding her in place and nothing but happiness pouring through her soul.
What an interlude—what a man. He had efficiently eased all the pressure that had built in her soul over the past few months.
Yet he had awakened all new ones.
She looked at the sterling silver band that encircled the ring finger of her right hand. Purity most certainly wasn’t easy, nor was it for the faint of spirit. She needed reinforcement. Fast.
She speed-dialed Aileen.
****
What a mistake.
Nobody, but nobody, could call out Siobhan like her best friend. She should have considered the ramifications of coming clean. Obviously, there would be an inquisition. Of course, there would be pushes and nudges and difficult questions to be answered about a certain captivating doctor.
“I have to admit, I’m thoroughly enjoying every single moment of this budding romance, Siobhan.” True to form, once Siobhan detailed the circumstances of the hours she had spent with AJ, Aileen cut straight to the chase. “Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve asked one very important question. Why? Why would God allow this to happen? Well, think about it. How else would you have met him? Oh, sure, he lives in Westerville, and your paths could have crossed just like they did at the grocery store, but most likely you would have just smiled, nodded, and exchanged a glance. Maybe you would have felt a twinge—a silent, hopeful urge—but I’ll bet nothing more would have come of it.”
Siobhan huffed, growled then collapsed in an overdone bit of drama, sinking onto a deep, comfy cushion of the couch. Sunlight poured into the room through sheers that covered the expansive, floor to ceiling window in the living area of Aileen’s apartment.
“You’ve asked how goodness could come from the trials you’ve endured.” Finished wearing a path in the floorboards, Aileen joined her, folding against the side of the couch and tucking in her legs. “Seems to me like AJ just might be the answer. God brought you together. God brought a connection to life.”
From our bleakest points, God brings joy.
AJ’s observation came back to Siobhan. Aileen was right.
That didn’t mean Siobhan had to admit it easily, though. “Ailee, your romantic imaginings are running away with you. I barely know the guy, and you’ve got delusions of grandeur.”
“Really? Am I that far off the mark?” She shrugged delicately. “Sounds to me like you’ve spent considerable time of late getting to ‘know-the-guy.’ And, excuse me, but aren’t the two of you sharing dinner and a movie tonight as well?”
“That’s not even the point.” Siobhan gulped.
“Oh. OK. Then you have all my apologies.” Aileen’s smirk cut all kind of holes into Siobhan’s worthless attempts at refusing a burgeoning truth. Like it or not, her heart was falling into the hands of AJ Cooper.
“You didn’t used to be so cruel.”
Aileen reacted to that snipe by giving a snort and another pretty little shrug.
“Know what, Ailee? I’m a mess.” Siobhan croaked the words. “He makes my throat go dry. He makes me shiver. I don’t have the time or energy for…for him…for romance! No. I just can’t let it happen. I need to focus. I need to recover. I need to dance with my three best friends!” The timbre of her voice escalated with each decree.
“Hmm. Do I detect even more sparks and spice? He has completely gotten under your skin. I love him already.” Aileen reached across the space between them and caught Siobhan’s hand to deliver a squeeze. “And I rejoice that at least something besides the upcoming power meeting has your pulse firing. You’re not quite able to be the twirling little pixie at the moment, but you’re well on your way back, and you certainly are lively. Remind me to thank Doctor Wonderful for all he’s done. On a number of levels.”
9
Siobhan’s small office brimmed to overflowing. Teams representing three separate factions, gathered to witness her audition. There were reps from Ganneton Productions, Zion’s Peak Records, and of course, her entire Sisters contingent.
“Miss Douglas, first of all, let me hasten to assure we’re investors, not physicians. We’re only here, asking this of you, because the tour being established by Zion’s Peak needs to happen ASAP. Additionally, this venture requires a sizeable influx of capital. I know that might sound crass and unfeeling, but it’s not meant to. Today’s meeting is about the determination of realistic goals and expectations.”
Sure, it was. Siobhan nodded politely at Cameron Franklin, the designated spokesman for Ganneton Productions. She didn’t smile, nor did she cow-tow or overcomp
ensate her position by being too solicitous or inauthentic. This episode defined the word uncomfortable, and everyone in the room understood that fact. Why act phony and pretend everything was normal? In truth, she wanted nothing more than for this interlude to end.
Home court advantage.
AJ’s astute observation from a while back helped strengthen Siobhan’s resolve and still her nerves. The Douglas Dance Academy was just that—her heartbeat, the end result of her passion for dance. Hands neatly folded, she sat behind the desk in her office. Before her were assembled the half dozen or so executives; meanwhile, AJ, Liam, and her friends stood behind her in a straightforward and indisputable display of solidarity and support. Admittedly ruthless about the vantage point of the reps from Zion and Ganneton, Siobhan made sure they faced that impressive canvas of her debut at Carnegie. Prideful, perhaps, but a point needed to be made.
AJ spoke first. “I’m the doctor who oversaw her hospital stay, and I’ve also been actively engaged in her progress through recovery. I can state with complete confidence that Siobhan Douglas will be fit to perform as soon as—”
“Those are the key words, Doctor Cooper. Will be.” Cameron’s cut in was accompanied by a lifted hand and a steely-eyed stare. “Let’s be blunt. While we feel nothing but remorse over the unavoidable set of circumstances that lead to this meeting, we also need to evaluate the upcoming tour based not on emotion, but honesty. Not a single person in this room doubts Ms. Douglas’s ability to recover in full. No one here doubts her ability on stage. What comes into question is her ability to embrace the timing we require.”
The muscles in Siobhan’s shoulders went tight. The point couldn’t be argued.
“We appreciate the strength of your endorsement, Doctor Cooper.” Siobhan’s attention bounced to Dan Ruthenbeck, CEO of Zion’s Peak Records. He was Liam’s boss and the visionary behind the label. “But like Cam indicates, this matter is complex and urgent in nature. We need fresh videos of Siobhan dancing in accompaniment to one of the releases. Additionally, touring is a grueling endeavor under optimum conditions, so we need to discover—”
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