“That was so much fun.” She laughed as they leaned against the railing to catch their breath.
“I think everyone enjoyed it.”
“I’ve skated here hundreds of times, but I’ve never mingled with the other skaters before,” she confessed.
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I was practicing.”
“You have to learn to enjoy yourself more.”
“You may be right.”
“I’m always right.”
She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”
“Are you too tired for more?”
“No way.” She took his hand and followed him back onto the ice.
They skated hand in hand, and he twirled her around expertly into a pair spin at such a high rate of speed she was dizzy when they stopped. She leaned into his hard body for balance. Her hands were pressed against his chest, and his rested on her waist. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes—each knowing they should move away, yet unable to do so. The smiles on their lips died.
Natasha’s heart skipped several beats as she waited for Damien’s next move. Never releasing her, he moved his face closer to hers. One of his hands left her waist to cup her jaw, drawing her nearer. His thumb caressed her smooth cheek. They gravitated together centimeter by centimeter until their lips touched lightly in butterfly kisses at first, but then the dam quickly broke and his mouth demanded and hers surrendered.
They quickly forgot everyone around them and lost themselves in each other. His lips were warm, firm and insistent. Had she ever been kissed so thoroughly or devastatingly? Absolutely not. She leaned into his hard body for support against the sensual onslaught laying siege to her carefully constructed control. His fingers pulled the elastic band from her hair, allowing his fingers to entwine in the soft strands.
Suddenly, she didn’t care who might see them; the only thing that mattered was that Damien keep kissing her for as long as she lived. Her fingers dug into his solid shoulders as she hung on for dear life while their mouths sensually acquainted themselves. Their tongues met halfway, and when they touched, white-hot lava erupted from deep within them.
God, what was he doing? Even as he silently asked the question, he was unable to stop. He had longed for this since she had breezed into his life a few weeks ago, and when her fingers anchored to the back of his head, pressing his mouth tighter against hers, he knew she had wanted the same. His arms reached around her waist and hers encircled his neck as they lost themselves to sensation.
Who knows how long they might have kissed had not good-natured catcalls, whistles and claps from bystanders echoed loudly in their ears. Reluctantly, they pulled apart and laughed at the skaters watching them with amusement.
“We have an audience.” Natasha glanced around self-consciously before returning her eyes to Damien’s.
He smiled wolfishly. “Then let’s give them something to really look at.”
The fingers entangled in her hair guided her sweet lips back to his as he devoured the delicacy of her luscious mouth. She wound her arms tighter around his neck and hung on for dear life.
* * *
When she entered the deserted rehearsal hall early the next morning as was her routine, Damien let her into the building, which was unusual. Had he been waiting for her? Her heart fluttered nervously at the sight of him. This was the moment she had dreaded all night—not knowing how to react to him after their scandalous kisses last night.
“Good morning, Natasha. I’d like to see you in my office.”
Without waiting for her response, he walked away down the hall and she followed. A frown turned down the corners of her mouth. This wasn’t exactly the type of greeting she had anticipated from him. Admittedly, after their kisses she had left him at the ice rink, begging a headache, and walked herself home, but surely he must have understood how confused and upset she had been by them crossing the forbidden line between them.
Once they reached his office, he closed the door for privacy despite the fact that no one else from the troupe was present yet. He leaned against his desk, crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared at her silently for a few uncomfortable seconds.
“I thought we should clear the air before everyone gets here.”
“All right.” She waited for him to speak.
He came straight to the point. “Last night’s kiss was a mistake.”
She balked at his dismissive reference to last night. She supposed for a man of his reputation, that’s all it had been, but for her… What had it meant to her? She wasn’t sure, but it definitely hadn’t felt casual or ordinary.
“It was?”
“Yes.” He smiled tolerantly. “We just got carried away in the moment.”
“I suppose we did.”
“And we’re not going to let it interfere with our work. Right?”
“Definitely not.” She forced a rigid smile.
He continued in emotionless tones, “It won’t happen again.”
“No.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and get in your morning workout.”
Being dismissed, she slowly walked away and silently chided herself. Of course the kiss had meant nothing to him; it had meant nothing to her either. She wanted that to be the truth—she assured herself it was the truth; however, deep down inside, she knew it was a lie.
* * *
After morning practice, she didn’t see him at all. Instead, Rachel took over rehearsals, which was highly unusual. Instead of being glad to have some breathing room to sort out her feelings, she was instead disturbed by his absence. By early evening break time, she had worked up the nerve to seek him out and try to dispel the unease that had developed between them since last night. She found him in his office, his head bent over his laptop screen, notepad beside him and a pencil perched between his white teeth.
“Damien, can I talk to you?”
He glanced up briefly and removed the pencil from his mouth. “What is it?”
She sighed inwardly at his cool tones. Why was she here? He had made his position clear this morning, and he was right. So why was she here?
“Well?” He sat back and waited for her response.
“I missed you at rehearsal.”
“Did you?” He smiled without humor. “Why?”
“Well…” She smoothed her palm down the chocolate skirt covering her matching leotards. “Because you’re usually there.”
“I have a lot on my plate, and Rachel’s perfectly capable of taking over for me from time to time.”
“Of course she is.” His coldness caused her to act like an idiot, not knowing what to say.
“What do you want, Natasha?”
He quickly grew weary of being in the same space as her and being unable to touch her, which was why he had Rachel take over rehearsals. He reminded himself the distance between them was necessary. He needed to get a rein on his ever-growing desire for her, which he knew he couldn’t act upon.
Last night had been a mistake—he had asked her skating to prove to himself that once he spent some time alone with her, he wouldn’t want to spend any more; however, that had backfired on him badly. He had a great time with her last night, and it only made him want to spend more time alone with her, getting to know her better, which was impossible. And of course he had done the unthinkable and kissed her—Lord, he could still feel her soft, responsive lips pressed close to his. The memory had been torturing him all day long.
“I have a question about the changes Rachel made to the courting dance.”
It was a lame reason and she knew it, but she didn’t know what else to say. His demeanor made it impossible for her to really say what was on her mind.
“Shouldn’t you speak to her about that?”
Without waiting for her response,
he returned his full attention to the computer screen and began typing some information on the keyboard. She continued to stand before him as he worked.
“I suppose I should.”
He impatiently glanced up again. “I think she’s in rehearsal hall two.” He bent his head over his notebook, and as she hovered, he looked up again. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” She backed away. “Thanks.”
He made no comment as he went back to his work. She turned and slowly left. When she had gone, he raised his head and pushed away from his desk to go after her, but stopped himself. This was for the best—no matter how rotten it felt, it was for the best. Sighing, he returned his attention to his notebook and concentrated on work instead of his gnawing need for Natasha.
For a nanosecond, he thought about calling up Shelia for a date; she was always up to helping him blow off steam. The problem with her, though, was that she created far more tension in him with her ever-present drama than she ever relieved, and one thing he had enough of in his life currently was tension. Besides, he didn’t want to spend time with Shelia or anyone else—he wanted to be with the woman whose company he thoroughly enjoyed—Natasha.
Damn! How had this happened? Last night with her had been more fun than he had experienced in a long time. She filled a purposeful emptiness in him and made him want to trust again—something he wasn’t sure he was capable of anymore. Trusting was dangerous; it led to vulnerability, and that in turn led to possible heartache, which was something he had experienced enough of in this lifetime. Still, denying his attraction to Natasha was becoming nearly impossible, and he honestly didn’t know how much longer he could do it.
* * *
As Natasha walked away from Damien’s office, she was more confused than ever. Despite Damien’s assertion that their kiss had been a mistake, she knew he had felt the desire spring to life between them, and she sensed he was trying to deal with their troubling attraction as professionally as he could; hence his newfound aloofness toward her. He was doing the right thing; they had crossed a forbidden line last night—one that must never be breached again. She knew that. She understood that. However, she hated every single, wretched second of having to pretend she felt nothing for him, when the truth was she felt far too much.
Chapter 6
It was a little over a month before Thanksgiving and Damien was hosting the lead cast, a total of sixteen dancers, at a lodge in Saratoga Springs for an intensive week of work while his assistants stayed in Manhattan to spruce up the background dancers.
Natasha slowly maneuvered her Jeep through snow-covered roads. It had been snowing when she left Manhattan, but the farther north she had gone, the worse the storm had become. Erina had stayed in New York; having student appointments that she couldn’t break, she was unable to be away from the city for a full week. Though Natasha longed to have her lifelong mentor with her, she understood and had assured her she would work hard.
Natasha had plenty of company for the trip though, as she was part of a caravan making its way to the retreat. She glanced at Simone, who sat in the passenger seat, and Dennis along with Simone’s partner, who were bundled in the back.
“It’s really coming down.” Simone peered out the frosted window. “Isn’t it?”
“In buckets.” Natasha nodded, keeping her eyes glued to the road.
“Want me to drive?” Dennis offered, sitting forward.
“No thanks. I think we’re almost there.”
“I hope so.” Dennis stretched his arms as much as possible. “My body is getting stiff.”
“Don’t worry.” Natasha smiled at him through the rearview mirror. “Once we get there, I’m sure Damien will work all stiffness out of you.”
“Truly.” Dennis laughed before sitting back and closing his eyes.
After about thirty more minutes of tense driving, she pulled up outside the main building of the rustic yet modernized lodge and let out an audible sigh of relief. It took her a few moments even to release the steering wheel. She didn’t think she would ever drive again! She was no sooner out of the car and into the thankfully now-diminishing snow, than she felt Dennis take her hand and laughingly pull her into the welcoming shelter of the lodge.
“What about our bags?” Natasha glanced toward the trunk, where Simone stood.
“I’ll come back for them once we’re checked in,” Dennis promised.
Damien and Rachel met them in the lobby. Damien’s eyes narrowed when Dennis escorted a laughing Natasha into the lodge. When she saw him, she released Dennis’s hand and removed her hat, never completely meeting his eyes, he noticed in annoyance. Damien’s lips curled into a frown. Obviously Natasha and Dennis had driven down together—a fact that irritated him.
“Welcome, everyone.” Damien gathered them in a semicircle. “We’ve already checked you in. Take two hours to unpack and explore the lodge, and meet me in the rehearsal hall at—” he glanced at his watch “—twelve-fifteen. You’ll find directions at the front desk.”
Everyone murmured agreement and took keys from either Damien or Rachel. Natasha’s and Damien’s fingers touched slightly when she took her key; she quickly retrieved her hand, pretending not to notice the slight lifting of his eyebrow at her action. She wanted to say something but didn’t know what; therefore, she offered a small smile before walking upstairs with Simone to find her room.
About twenty minutes later, showered and changed into black jeans, knee-high black leather boots, white sweater and a black leather parka with fur trim, Natasha made her way outside into the crisp air. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and since her jacket contained a hood, she didn’t wear a hat.
She should have been situated in front of a fire or, better still, warming up before rehearsal; however, she had the urge to unwind and get away from everyone before rehearsal began. She had just planned to take a quick walk around the grounds, but as she wandered through the four or five inches of fluffy snow that covered the feet and ankles of her boots, she found herself getting farther and farther from the main lodge until she came upon a tall white building. She warily approached the brown door and opened it, delighted to find herself in a barn. She walked inside and approached several stalls occupied with horses. She slowly approached a black horse with a white diamond shape on its forehead and nearly jumped out of her skin when Damien stood from adjusting a stirrup.
“Damien.” A hand flew to her throat. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“Neither did I.” He pulled his gloves from his pockets and placed them on.
“I’ll go and leave you alone.” She turned to leave.
“You don’t have to.”
His words halted her, and she turned to face him again. “Are you sure?”
He sighed. “Natasha, we’re both adults. We can be alone together.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. When she was alone with him, the most inappropriate thoughts ran rampant through her mind; it had been three weeks since their kisses, and Damien seemed unaffected by memories that still plagued her. Perhaps she was being silly; there was no reason they couldn’t be friendly.
“I suppose we can,” she finally agreed.
He smiled, as if aware of her turbulent thoughts. “How’s your room?”
“It’s wonderful.” She smiled genuinely. “I didn’t expect to have a private one.”
“The main leads have private rooms.” He assured that her accommodations were nothing out of the ordinary. “Everyone else has a bunkmate.”
“Oh.” She cautiously approached a stall to examine a horse more closely. “Aren’t you pretty?”
“Go ahead and rub him,” he prodded. “He won’t bite.”
She looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“You’re not afraid of horses, are you?”
“I don’t think
so.” She warily extended her hand and touched the horse’s nose and laughed when it bobbed its head in response. “I’ve never been this close before.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I’ve always wanted to learn to ride, but I never got around to taking lessons.”
“Well, ma’am, you’ve come to the right place.” He bowed formally. “Allow me to instruct you.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure.” He led his horse out of its stall. “We have plenty of time before rehearsal starts for a quick lesson.”
“On second thought, Damien, I don’t think that’s…”
“Natasha, we’re only going to ride—” he paused before wickedly concluding “—horses.”
She gulped at his double entendre. His smile widened, informing her he was well aware of her discomfort. She intended to refuse his offer, but she didn’t for two reasons: she wanted to learn to ride and, more important, she wanted to spend some time alone with him no matter how ill-advised that was.
“All right,” she acquiesced. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.”
He quickly saddled a brown mare, which thankfully looked a lot tamer than the one he was planning to ride, and helped her into the saddle. Touching her waist to position her properly, he showed her how to mount the horse. With his help, she foisted herself up into the saddle and was proud she stayed put instead of toppling off the other side.
Damien quickly mounted his horse. “How does it feel?”
“Strange, but good.” She laughed in wonder. “It’s like I’m ten feet tall.”
He smiled. “You are, thanks to your friend.”
“What do I do now?”
“Take the reins, one in both hands. When you want to go right, you pull on the right one, and vice versa for going left. If you pull back on both, you stop. It’s really very easy once you get the hang of it.”
“If you say so.” She looked skeptical.
“Trust me.” He smiled. “We won’t worry about galloping today, since this is your first lesson. We’re just going to go at a nice, slow trot.”
Our First Dance Page 7