Another revelation. He’d always liked the people in his hometown. Knew he’d chosen to lick his wounds in Castle Ridge for a reason. He hadn’t realized it until now. Even if the music stayed, and he decided to compose, he wouldn’t go back to New York.
“Can I get a card?”
He handed the man a business card. “I can give you my opinion.”
The man turned to speak to his wife on the other side of him.
Quinn squeezed his arm to get his attention. “How do you do that?” She always held his attention.
“Do what?”
“You have people asking you about your business. You’re not selling, and yet you make contacts.”
“I wasn’t selling, which is why I didn’t sound like I was selling.” That aspect of his business had always come naturally. He enjoyed architecture and puzzles; talking construction was easy, compared to chit chat. “I was answering a simple question.”
“Answering with knowledge.” Her eyes sparkled and she squeezed again. His skin ignited at her grasp, and he imagined her squeezing other parts of his body. “I need to learn to do that with the parents of my customers.”
“The free classes are a great way to get started.” He’d not originally agreed with giving away services, now he understood sampling. She could teach him a few marketing tricks. “Word of mouth will be good.”
“The free classes won’t be so great for my balance sheet.” She slipped her hand from his arm, lingering with her fingers. “Speaking of which, who keeps your books?”
He wanted her fingers to linger longer. Was it a signal she wanted things to begin? Was he ready to say to hell with his brother and go for what he wanted?
Fear paralyzed and his brain short-circuited. He wasn’t ready to make big, snap decisions. “I do for the most part. Musicians are good with numbers.”
Her expression of surprise had him explaining more.
“I do the inputting and payments and then I have an accountant who reviews things. Why?”
“I need help setting up my books. I’ve always balanced my own budget and checkbook. Running a business is different.”
“I can take a look.” He wanted to help her, and he wanted her to succeed. More selfishly, he wanted her to stay in town, and if she was successful, she would.
“Thanks.” Her phone buzzed on the bar between them. “Text from Dax.”
“What does he want?” The question came out harsh.
She gazed at the message and the harshness traveled down Reed’s throat to his midsection. “Dax wanted to wish me luck on my first day of free classes.”
“That was yesterday.” Reed knew, because he’s the one who told his brother what to say yesterday.
“It’s sweet, and it’s the thought that counts.”
Except it was his thought, not his brother’s. His gut grumbled, wanting to take the credit.
“When’s he coming home?” Annoying he had to ask when his own brother was coming home. Dax was an adult who didn’t need to report to his family, though it would’ve been nice to know he was leaving town. He’d been sneaking away for a day at a time here and there.
“Do you want me to ask him?” Quinn slipped off the stool taking her phone.
“Sure.” Guess he was handling both ends of the conversation. He could sit here and just talk to himself.
“I’ll be back in a minute. Save my seat.” She headed toward the bathroom.
“How’s things going between you and Quinn?” His sister took her place at the bar.
He sent a panicked glance toward Quinn. He didn’t want her to hear. She was staring at her phone, waiting for Dax’s text. Everything inside soured. “There’s nothing going.”
His sister nudged him with her elbow. “I see how you look at her. You dance as if you’re not injured, and when you move together you’re so in sync.”
The sourness rose, burning his throat. “Tell that to the guy she’s texting.”
His sister surveyed the back of the pub. “How am I supposed to tell some random guy?”
“He’s not random.” Reed found it difficult to breathe. “It’s Dax.”
“Where is Dax?”
Reed shrugged, trying to be casual. “Left town for a few days.”
“And he’s been texting Quinn the entire time?”
“Only after he texts me and asks what to text her.” Reed’s bitterness blew out in a quick puff of air. He shouldn’t have spilled the secret, except Izzy already knew some of the details.
“What?” She set her mug on the bar with a hard slap. “So you asked Quinn on a date for Dax, and now you’re telling him what to text her?”
“Shhh.” He peered behind him again, checking she hadn’t returned. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I love Dax, but he is self-centered.” Nodding, his sister took a sip of beer. “He wouldn’t even notice you have feelings for her.”
“I don’t.” Reed wanted to shout the denial. That somehow yelling it from the rooftops would make it true. “I don’t.”
His sister arched a disbelieving brow and her gaze pinned him down.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, even while his mind processed. He might be able to lie to his sister, and not very well, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He did have feelings for Quinn.
A woman who made him experience things he hadn’t in a long time. A woman who pushed him to be more involved and better person. A woman who brought music back into his life.
A woman he wanted but wasn’t sure he should pursue.
Chapter Fifteen
Snow fell in large, heavy flakes on the other side of the dance studio window. The flakes dusted the recently-shoveled sidewalk. Several inches had piled up on the grass. Quinn wondered at the dramatic change in scenery. “I can’t believe how quickly the snow piles up and how white it is.”
“Snow is always white.” Reed sat behind the counter with a spreadsheet and pencil, helping her set up accounts on the computer. He looked so studious, with reading glasses, and an extra pencil tucked behind his ear.
She wanted to jump this slightly-nerdy version of Reed, too.
“Not in New York.” Twirling from the window to the counter, she let out a satisfied sigh. She didn’t miss anything about New York. She was at home here. A completeness filled her, as if her dance card was full. This man had a lot to do with the feeling. She needed him to make the same realization.
“True.” His deep laugh rumbled through her. “There, snow turns gray or black the minute it falls to the ground.”
She appreciated their shared background and a shared appreciation for the arts. She’d been a professional dancer, and he’d been a professional musician. Still could be, if he wanted. Her feet went flat on the ground. He could leave Castle Ridge and return to his profession at any time. “Do you think you’d ever go back?”
“To New York?”
“To playing at the symphony. You’d be great.”
“No.” His adamant tone sent a shiver through her. Maybe he was trapped in his past, unwilling to move forward, to get past whatever scarred him on the inside.
“You will play the piano in front of people again. I know you will.” She put confidence in her tone and placed her hand on his, wanting to touch him, wanting him to know she was there for him, wanting him to know she cared.
They’d had fun the night before, socializing in the pub. Reed knew people, was comfortable with people. Why had he ever thought he could be a hermit?
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but…” He slipped his hand from under hers, and she believed it was a sign. He was slipping away from her. “I don’t think I could face strangers staring at me, watching me play.”
It was time to be more forward, take drastic measures.
“The music has come back.” She snuck down to listen to him every night. He played as if tormented for hours. The music was never as discordant as the night she’d gone down to comfort him, though. The last couple of times, it sounde
d like a fever flowed in his veins, bringing passion and poetry.
The music sung through her heart and throbbed in her loins.
If he could enrapture her, he could enrapture audiences. Her body tingled, remembering how the tinkling keys played to her emotions. Last night, his music had been soulful and sexual. A tease calling her name.
He tapped a pencil on the spreadsheet. “How many different columns do you want on this account?” His return to business didn’t cool her desire. She wanted him, and she’d need to make the first move.
Answering, she slumped into the chair next to him, disappointed he wouldn’t talk about his hidden talents, possibly his true calling.
A text message buzzed on his cellphone, sitting on the desktop.
“Excuse me.” Standing, he picked up the phone and stretched his leg. He stepped toward the back of the studio.
His secretiveness bothered her. He’d acted weird when his phone had rung the first night of dance class, too. She didn’t believe there was another woman in his life. Not from Dax and Izzy’s comments about his socializing skills.
“Sorry about that.” With red cheeks, he retook his seat and studied the spreadsheet.
Pointing her toes as she sat, she analyzed him. “Anything important?”
“No.” He stared at the computer, as if wishing it would do something to distract. “Do you want the office supplies separated from the dance supplies?”
A text chimed on her cell phone.
“Sorry.” Sending him an ironic shrug, she clicked on the message from Dax.
Reed shifted in his chair. He shifted again. “Who is it? Anything important?” His questions were similar to hers only seconds ago, except he asked with more intensity.
Maybe if she shared he’d share. Sharing was a start. “It was Dax. He said he won’t make it home tonight because of the weather.”
Reed’s expression darkened. “Did you two have plans?”
Was Reed jealous? A short-lived thrill traveled through her. He’d originally pushed her to date his brother. He’d acted stand-offish and he’d kissed her. His mixed signals had her head spinning and her temper rising. Her heat level rose, too. If he was jealous, it must mean he cared.
“No. We made plans for a follow-up meeting with people from the Main Street Business Association later in the week.”
“Is that all my brother said?” He twirled the pencil between his fingers.
She studied him, unsure if she should read exactly what the text said. He stared back, as if he had a vested interest in her communication with his brother.
Her shoulders sagged, not wanting to share. She needed to let Dax know they could only be friends before she seriously pursued his brother. “He wrote a bit of poetry.”
“Do you enjoy Dax’s—” the brother sitting beside her swallowed “—his way with words?”
Distracted by the manly movement, she shook herself out of the daze. Rereading the short verse to herself, she did like the poem. It wasn’t too flowery. There was a lyrical sense to the words. Glancing at Reed, she wished it had come from him.
“Yes, I liked the poetry.” She couldn’t break things off with Dax over a text. She needed to tell him in person, because she didn’t want any bad tension between them, not if she wanted a serious relationship with Reed.
“That’s it?” His mouth gaped open.
Too vested in his brother’s life.
Was that why he wouldn’t pursue things with her? She’d told him she wasn’t interested in Dax. After the kiss she and Reed had shared she’d thought he was attracted, and yet, he kept pushing her away. “It’s not words that matter, but actions.”
Lending a car was an easy thing to do. It didn’t take time or effort. Reed had taken care of her when she was injured. He’d helped prepare the studio, going above and beyond his duties in the contract. He’d helped Sara and he’d danced with Quinn.
“Why do you care so much what your brother texts?”
Shrugging, he glanced away, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Wondering how poetic my athletic brother could be.” His acidic tone infused he didn’t believe his brother could do both.
“You’re a man with many talents. Composing, playing piano, construction, accounting.” She wondered if his talents extended to the bedroom.
“So?”
“Dax must dance to two different beats. The first night I met him he didn’t say much, until later when he came to my window. Like Romeo or Cyrano.”
Reed gave her a sharp glare. “You said he was romantic. Much more Romeo.” He spun the pencil around his fingers, again and again.
“Dax was sweet.” At first, she’d thought he was drunk. “Most of his texts have been romantic and lyrical. Resembling a song.”
Dropping the pencil, Reed grabbed for it again. “Guess Dax has picked up a few of my skills.”
Angling her head, she studied him. Wariness swirled in her mind, with an edge of suspicion. “Except your brother is not like that in person.”
His cheeks flushed and a short-satisfied smile flashed. Ducking his head, he shuffled the spreadsheet, hiding his expression.
Her suspicion grew. What did Reed know that she didn’t? She ripped the spreadsheet out of his hands, wanting to watch his face. “I agreed to a date because of what Dax said under my window and texting.”
Reed sprang to his feet and limped across the dance floor to stare out the window, as if wanting to escape. Escape from her, or her questioning? “Is no one coming for the adult dance classes tonight?”
Something was wrong, and he wanted it to stay hidden.
Distraction wouldn’t work on her. Not unless she could use his need for distraction to her advantage. She wanted to get close to him again, to have his arms around her, to have his lips on hers. Last time when he wanted to avoid her questions, he’d offered to dance. If she used the same tactic maybe she could at least get another taste of Reed.
The snow had started the night before and continued all day. Only a few people had shown up for the morning toddler classes. After-school activities were cancelled at school, and she’d cancelled the adult class for the evening. It had been the perfect time to work on her accounting program together.
“I cancelled the adult classes.” Getting to her feet, she sashayed to his side. She closed the blinds on the window, and turned off most of the lights. If she was going to take what she wanted they’d need privacy. “Bri texted and said she was going skiing. I think a lot of other kids did the same.”
“Most of the people in town love to ski.” Was that a tinge of sadness?
She brushed his arm and felt his muscles tighten beneath, sensing his sorrow. “Do you miss skiing?”
His head started to shake in the negative direction. He stopped and pursed his lips. “Yes.”
His admittance walloped inside her, vibrating in her chest and rattling her heart. His honest answer was a gift. “Maybe you’ll ski again someday.”
And have a relationship. With her. Her entire body shivered, anticipating the ride. Anticipating his fingers playing her as well as he played the piano.
“Maybe.” He wasn’t confident, and she hated his doubts.
“I bet dancing could help get you back on the slopes.” She trailed her fingers around his arm and placed her hand on his shoulder, unable to resist. The shivering switched to trembling. She needed him, yet she wouldn’t rush. At least, not too much. She held back a smile.
His gaze followed her fingers. “How so?”
“Dance is physical therapy.” She clicked on the music with the remote. “It helps the body and the mind.”
And the heart.
She grasped his other hand and held them out, with straight arms in position for the waltz. Dancing could be a warmup to making love. The touching and caresses. Bodies pressing close. Visualizing had heat pooling at her center. “Put your hand on my waist.”
His eyes softened, turning a mossy green. “Quinn, I don’t think—”
> “We’re only going to dance.” At least, right now. She pressed his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “Just dance.”
* * *
Quinn’s lips said just dance but her eyes said sex.
And Reed’s sex responded, growing hard.
He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. His body drew toward her. Closer. His hand spanned her small waist and tugged her in. The music drifted around them, lifting him into a smooth and steady motion.
A dance wouldn’t compromise his relationship with his brother. Although, if she found out the truth about the texting, she’d be upset. Her suspicious questions were getting too close to the truth.
Her crystal-blue eyes stared into his, and the color went deeper with desire. He’d dance with her. He’d help her with her books. He’d do anything she wanted because the attraction sparking between them came together, the individual notes having been transposed to the key of lust.
She called his lyrics poetry. She’d agreed to date Dax because of Reed’s words. She wanted to dance with him. Not Dax. She’d stated she wasn’t interested in Dax. Reed’s lungs lightened, like a balloon filled with hope.
He curled their entwined hands, and brought them to his chest. His pulse thumped in tune with the music. She didn’t instruct. She let her body lead him around the dance floor. And he followed willingly.
The music slowed. Their bodies drew closer. Tingles shimmered against his skin. Her breasts pressed against him. Streams of desire spiraled through his body. His hard shaft pressed against her most intimate space. She pressed back showing her interest. His entire body thrummed. With her foot between his two feet, their thighs rubbed against each other. They barely moved, holding each other close.
The closeness, the music, and her scent wove around him, creating a haze. A haze where the rest of the world didn’t matter. Only the two of them.
She tilted her chin, staring into his eyes. Her body moved in a melody of desire, calling to him. Her plump lips glistened.
One taste. Surely, one taste wouldn’t hurt.
When Dax was back in town, Reed would explain.
The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance Page 17