She moved out of lotus and rolled onto her stomach, getting into position for Cobra. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on slowly bending her knee while extending her arms. Her physical therapist had introduced her to a friend who taught yoga and Sophie had been doing it ever since. It helped with the pain, the weakness, and the flexibility, and she doubted she’d be able to teach at all if it hadn’t been for the exercises. But still, she could hardly dance.
Though, that hadn’t been true the other night. Sophie froze in the midst of rolling to her back, realization slamming into her like a fist. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time. She’d been so consumed with her sudden, wild attraction to Henry that all she’d been thinking about was him. Not herself. Not her knee.
Despite his outlandish offer, Sophie still found herself inexplicably attracted to him. She remembered the way she had followed his lead and how her body had acted in a way that had once been instinct. She’d done rulos, cuatros, boleos, even caricias. She hadn’t hesitated to put her weight on her bum knee at all. And she hadn’t faltered, hadn’t fallen. What if he hadn’t been propositioning her? She wondered. He was a good dancer, what if the lessons were really just worth that much to him? She scoffed, knowing how foolish that sounded.
She pushed herself up into bridge pose, squeezing her thighs together.
It had been a fluke. Henry may have been able to make her forget her knee and dance like she wasn’t crippled, but if she had taken him up on his offer it would have been a disaster. She would have floundered sooner rather than later. And whatever he had in mind for after the lessons, well, she couldn’t do that either.
Even if she had imagined it, desired it, she couldn’t be bought.
Chapter Five
She wished she hadn’t worn the skirt. Sophie never wore skirts anymore. Especially not knee-length skirts with a handkerchief hem. She didn’t know what had possessed her this morning. Though the cosmetic surgeons had done wonders, her knee was still scarred. And every step she took briefly bared both knees. She felt as if everyone had been staring at when she walked to Darren and Wayne’s first apartment showing.
No one was, of course. She was being ridiculous. She knew that. Still, she had to keep herself from turning around and going home so she could change. But when she showed up at the apartment she saw how excited her friends were, and she knew she was being selfish. Besides, the apartment showings would help keep her mind off Henry.
She had dreamt about him last night, about the dance they’d shared in the studio. It hadn’t ended there, though. In her dream, Darren hadn’t interrupted them. The kiss had happened. And then some. Sophie shivered, remembering the vivid visual of a primal, dark eyed Henry taking her from behind while she clutched the ballet bar and watched him move against her in the floor to ceiling mirror. Her anger at him only seemed to fuel her desire.
“How many square feet is this Cindy?” Wayne’s voice snapped Sophie from her thoughts. She looked around the apartment they were standing in, taking in its low ceilings and fading paint job. She knew Darren probably hated it.
“This unit is seven hundred square feet. Only the one bedroom, but it’s big. Fully furnished throughout. And as you can see,” she stepped aside with a flourish, showcasing the sliding glass doors to the terrace, “it’s got a great view.”
The apartment’s door opened into the wide living room space, and to the right was the hallway that lead back to the bathroom and the bedroom. Darren was disappearing down it, dragging his fingers along the wall beside him.
“And how much was this one, again?” Wayne asked, frowning down at the listing in his hand as he trailed Darren. Wayne was a broad, brown-haired, serious man while Darren was lithe, blond, and gregarious, but the two seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces.
“Fifteen hundred a month. Well within your price range,” Cindy replied.
Sophie opened the refrigerator, inspecting it for mold or mildew as Wayne and Darren wandered in and out of the rooms, whispering to one another about the pros and cons of the space.
“So?” Sophie flinched at the way Cindy drew the word out into multiple syllables. She had to admit though, it matched the woman perfectly. She was curvy, blonde, Southern, and wearing a power suit in lemon yellow. “What do we think?”
Darren chewed his lip. “It’s cute...” he trailed off, glancing around the living room and out toward the balcony.
“But,” Wayne continued for him, “we have some concerns about the size. We were really hoping for a two bedroom place.”
Cindy twisted her face. “I’m sorry Mr. Albright but the best properties in your price range are one bedrooms.” She tapped a long nailed finger against her lower lip. “If you’d like, though, I could show you a few places just a tad more pricey. There’s a lovely one on the Upper West Side that’s perfect. Just over a thousand square feet, communal terrace, gorgeous views, a fireplace. It’s only a scootch out of your range.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, less than an inch apart, indicating her definition of a ‘scootch’.
“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 Wayn
e 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.
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