by Merry Farmer
“It’s not hard,” she answered with a nervous laugh that contradicted her words.
“I was also there in the hospital the other day,” Ward said, one eyebrow raised. “Bringing it to a grand total of three times that I’ve seen you cry. Jogi was there for you, which makes him cool in my book. But don’t go telling me this is all easy for you.”
Frustration got the better of her, and before she could check herself, she burst out with, “This is not who I am.”
And before Ward could say anything about that, Jogi’s call of, “There you are. I was getting worried,” came from the other end of the hall.
Sandy gave Ward one last look, warning him not to go on talking about things, then turned to greet Jogi. “Sorry. I lost track of time.”
Her expression lightened and her heart beat in double time at the sight of him dressed in his tuxedo for the Quick Step. The standard ballroom dance would happen first that night, and then they’d tackle the elaborate Bollywood number Buffy and Carl had choreographed.
Jogi smiled as he reached them and held out a hand to Ward. “I’d stick around and chat, but if I don’t get your sister back to the locker room to put all those feathers on, we won’t be ready in time.”
“Understood.” Ward shook his hand. But before Jogi could let go and whisk Sandy away, he went on with, “Hey, how about you come over to dinner this weekend so that we can all get to know you better.”
Sandy rounded on her brother with a glare. “Not when Dad is recovering.”
“He’s not an invalid,” Ward said, his patience at an end. He turned back to Jogi. “I head back to Salt Lake late Sunday night, so how about Sunday dinner.”
Jogi glanced between Ward and Sandy. “I’d love to,” he said, hesitation tinging his voice. He looked to Sandy.
Ward glanced to her too, but with far more insistence than Jogi’s silent question. At least Jogi had that going for him. He wasn’t a bull in a china shop like her brother.
“Okay,” she sighed, throwing up her hands. “You win. Jogi, would you like to come to dinner on Sunday night?”
“Yes,” Jogi answered quickly, then took her hand. “But only after we kick some Bonneville ass on the dance floor tonight.” He nodded to Ward and set off down the hall, pulling Sandy with him.
“You’re in a good mood tonight,” she said as they reached the far end of the hall.
“I’m ready to go out there and make Ronny eat his words,” he said. “And now I have a Templesmith family dinner to look forward to.”
His enthusiasm sent ripples of anxiety rolling through her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of Jogi spending time with her family. She did. Her parents liked him. Rita liked him. Even Ward liked him. But Jogi joining in as one of them was a big step. One she was overwhelmed by. The more he integrated into her life, the more it felt like her life would no longer be her own.
Jogi knew something was bothering Sandy the second he spotted her at the other end of the hall with her brother. But these days, it seemed like something was always nagging at her. He tried not to take it personally. She had tons on her plate—from the problems with the bank to her dad’s health to his plagiarism problems, which she’d taken on in the past week, and even to the competition itself. He was willing to let it all go until a little of the pressure eased up.
At least, he would have been.
“You’re trying to lead,” he murmured as they made their way around the dance floor in the Quick Step.
“No, I’m not,” she protested through the theatrical smile on her overly made-up face.
“Then what do you call this?” He stiffened his stance and tried to take her into an unchoreographed turn.
She resisted for half a second, almost stepping wrong and popping them out of rhythm. Only when he all but pushed her into the turn did she loosen up and go with the flow. She was still smiling on the other side of the turn, but her eyes flared with anger.
“Stick to the script,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Let me lead,” he shot back.
In the end, he won the argument. But he suspected the only reason for that was the strength of her desire to win the competition. The fact that they nearly collided with Ronny and Natalie might also have contributed. That and the smarmy grin Ronny sent their way when Jogi was forced to improvise a few steps to get them as far away from Ronny as possible.
In the end, they managed to complete the dance more or less in one piece.
“That was way harder than it needed to be,” Sandy sighed as they took their bows and headed out of the gym to change costumes.
“That sucked,” Marsha Pierce, the Haskellian half of the couple walking out just behind them said.
“We all sucked,” someone farther back in the line agreed.
“We spent too much time rehearsing the Bollywood number this week,” Marsha agreed as they reached the hall and wandered out of their lines on the way to the locker rooms.
“Let’s just hope we do better in that,” Sandy said.
The way things started out, it looked like they would. Jogi felt far more comfortable in a sherwani and churidar than he had in a tuxedo. Sandy looked downright gorgeous in her lengha. He might have to get his auntie back in India to send over a custom-made lengha for her when the competition was over. Although there was a fair chance that Sandy would balk at having him buy clothes for her.
But that was a problem for a different day. As the competitors took their spots on the dance floor, and as soon as the familiar strains of a medley of the most popular Bollywood songs began to play over the loudspeaker, all Jogi had room to think about was acing the dance and crushing Ronny.
The five remaining couples each struck their opening poses as the strains of the music dictated. And as it happened, Jogi and Sandy were positioned immediately next to Ronny and Natalie in such a way that in the few seconds during which they held that opening pose, Jogi and Ronny were toe to toe and eye to eye.
“You’re going down, Apu,” Ronny hissed through teeth clenched in a theatrical smile.
“Get ready to eat my dust, Bonny,” Jogi growled right back.
The music reached an opening crescendo, then launched into a lively bhangra beat. Jogi snapped away from Ronny and threw everything he had into the spirit of the dance. He dipped into a deep knee bend, then popped up to shake it like it was meant to be shaken. Sandy, who had been distracted at best up until that point, opened her eyes wide and flashed him her first genuine smile all night.
That alone made everything worth it. Even more than the swelling cheer of the crowd as all five of the remaining couples burst into sweet moves. Dancing was icing on the cake to the way Sandy caught his enthusiasm and got into it. They worked their way through a few group steps, all of the couples shifting position in the choreography they’d practiced hard all week. But as far as Jogi was concerned, it was just him and Sandy in a swirl of color and fun.
Jogi didn’t let up on the intensity of his enjoyment of the dance and Sandy when they transitioned into their individual dances. It wasn’t the right time to launch into an entire conversation about how they could do this—not just win the competition, but figure out a way to be with each other and have fun—but he tried to communicate the feeling anyhow. He couldn’t tell if Sandy was getting the message, if she could feel how much he enjoyed being with her, more than just in bed. If her smile was any indication, she at least had a hint.
And then it was their turn. The couples shuffled through some choreography, putting Jogi and Sandy front and center. The music swelled to a tune from one of his favorite movies growing up, and he let loose. He wasn’t just dancing to win, he was showing the whole room just how much he loved the woman he was dancing with. That’s what dancing was all about, after all. It was how people had expressed joy that couldn’t be contained since the dawn of time.
The crowd responded with wild enthusiasm, cheering Jogi as he let it all hang out. And when he and Sandy ended their spotli
ght with a dramatic lift that highlighted both his strength and Sandy’s beauty, they roared with appreciation.
Best of all, Sandy was beaming. She was truly happy. Even if it was just that moment, with her in his arms, the music playing, and everyone supporting them, she shone like the sun. More than a little part of Jogi was certain that if that moment didn’t win the entire competition for them, nothing would.
He was soaring high as the group shifted again, giving Ronny and Natalie a chance to shine. He didn’t notice Ronny inching too close to him, didn’t see his foot sticking out beyond where it needed to be for the dance. His mind and heart were a million miles away when he tripped hard over Ronny’s foot, sprawling to the gym floor. A jolt of pain in his wrist shocked him as he attempted to catch himself. For a split-second, he was too stunned to process what had happened.
The audience gasped. The first thought that rushed back to Jogi’s mind was that Sandy had managed to stay upright. Good for her. Better still, she had the presence of mind to scoop down and help him to his feet again as fast as possible. His wrist throbbed, his head spun from the suddenness of everything that had happened, but he was able to catch up and resume his place in the dance. It was a blessing in disguise that Ronny and Natalie were still strutting their stuff and that the choreography for the other couples was minimal.
“Are you all right?” Sandy asked, eyes wide with panic, as they shuffled again, giving the last couple a chance to show off for the judges.
Jogi’s wrist throbbed. He had bruises and twists in half a dozen places. But one glance across the floor to a smirking, triumphant Ronny, and all he could say was, “I’m fine.”
Sandy obviously didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have time to do anything more about it. The dance continued, and the difficulty of the choreography picked up. Jogi thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to lift Sandy again. As light as she was, with his wrist, he knew he couldn’t do it. He broke out in a cold sweat as he gritted his way through the rest of the now painful dance. He could only hope that the judges would interpret his grimace as a smile.
As soon as it was over, the audience burst into applause, and fury replaced the determination to get through that Jogi had been holding on to. It was all he could do to keep it together as they all took their bows. At least the crowd had half a clue what had happened. They cheered extra loudly for Jogi and Sandy, and booed Ronny. The judges were too busy handing over their scores to Jonathan for tabulation for Jogi to tell what they thought.
“What a thrilling dance.” Howie took to the microphone before any of the dancers had a chance to leave the floor, before Jogi had a chance to look for someone to check out his wrist. He had to hold his arms together to stop from shaking with pain. “I know none of you want to wait for the announcement of which three teams will be continuing on to the finals next week, so judges, if you could add up the scores and bring them to me as quickly as possible.”
Jonathan already had the score sheets in hand and seemed to be doing the math as he walked from the judges table to the side of the dance floor where Howie stood. He sent a sympathetic look Jogi’s way that had Jogi’s heart sinking. They must have failed. There was no way Jonathan would send him a look like that if they’d made it to the finals. Ronny’s cheating had paid off. Jogi could feel the heat rushing through him. He would strangle Ronny the second they got off the dance floor.
“Here we go, here we go,” Howie said as soon as Jonathan handed him three out of the five score sheets. “Our three finalists, in no particular order, are….”
He paused for effect, milking the crowd for a reaction. Jogi growled aloud, eager for him to get it over with. Sandy grabbed his arm and hugged it. She wore a look of concern that had nothing to do with the competition.
“Marsha Pierce and Kyle Mercer!” Howie announced.
The crowd cheered. Marsha and Kyle jumped and clapped with relief, hugging each other.
“Natalie Warner and Ronny Bonneville,” Howie said with less enthusiasm.
Half of the crowd cheered. Half booed. Over top of that, several people shouted, “Go, Natalie!” A few others took up the call, but no one cheered for Ronny. That didn’t bother Ronny. He preened and waved to the crowd as though they thought he was God’s gift to the dance floor. Natalie stood by, red-faced and embarrassed.
“And our final finalist….” Once again, Howie paused for effect. Jogi glanced down, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hide his disappointment when— “Sandy Templesmith and Jogi Sandhu!”
The crowd swelled with cheering. More so than they had cheered for Marsha and Kyle. Much more than for Ronny and Natalie. The two couples who hadn’t made it smiled and clapped with genuine happiness. Natalie shouted, “Yes!” then turned to Ronny with a vindicated snarl. The last people to react were Jogi and Sandy themselves.
“Did he just say our names?” Jogi asked.
“I think he did,” Sandy answered over the shouting.
It rushed in on him then, and he swept Sandy into his arms in spite of the pain in his wrist. “We did it.” He hugged her for all he was worth. His heart sang when she squeezed him back, then even more when she planted an enormous kiss on his lips, right there for everyone to see.
The cheering swelled and the audience cat-called. Nothing else mattered, as far as Jogi was concerned. His wrist would heal. Ronny would always be an asshole. But he hadn’t won. Not yet. Jogi and Sandy were in the finals, they still had a chance of winning, saving the bank, and landing him a gallery show, and best of all, they were together.
Chapter Sixteen
“So Jogi, Sandy tells me you’re a photographer?” Ward handed a bowl of pasta salad to Jogi across the patio table. His eyes held more intensity than the simple question warranted, which made Sandy want to either scold her brother or dissolve into a panic attack.
“That’s right.” Jogi took the bowl with a smile, then turned that smile to Sandy.
“He’s an amazing photographer,” Mrs. Templesmith added from Ward’s side. “You should see the photograph he took that won the National Park Services contest earlier this summer.”
Sandy tensed, studying Jogi out of the corner of her eye. Even though she’d explained her reasons behind entering the competition for him, that damn photo had caused more problems between them than she wanted to remember.
“I’m sure it was the subject matter and not the photo itself that won the judges over,” Jogi said. He was scooping pasta onto his plate, so Sandy couldn’t see his eyes. “Sandy looks so carefree in that snap.”
She grinned and blushed, but her heart trembled. Things were good between them right now, but no relationship was perfect. Why did she feel like she’d been entrusted with something precious that she was going to break at any second? And for that matter, what had happened to the brash, confident woman she knew herself to be? This was why she hated relationships.
“How’s that plagiarism thing going?” Sandy’s mom asked, forcing Sandy to pay closer attention to the conversation.
“It’s….” Jogi started, then turned to Sandy. “You should probably ask my lawyer about that.” He winked at her.
Of all things, she flushed with pleasure, both for the saucy wink and the fact that he put so much faith in her. “I tracked down the guy’s mailing address and sent him an official Cease and Desist letter.” She shrugged. “The ball’s in his court.”
“It just burns me up that people think they can steal someone else’s work like that,” Sandy’s mom went on, shaking her head as she put an ear of corn on her dad’s plate. “No salt on that, Wainright.”
“Yes, Benita,” Wainright sighed.
“What burns me up is that Ronny Bonny could cheat so badly on Friday night and still make the finals,” Rita said, stabbing pieces of pasta salad with her fork.
“Yeah, what gives?” Ward asked. At least his intensity was directed at someone other than Jogi, though Sandy never had liked it when he got a bug up his butt about something. Her dear brother tende
d to go overboard.
“The only thing I can work out is that the judging isn’t as fair and impartial as it’s supposed to be,” Wainright said.
Sandy stopped mid-chew. She swallowed, but it didn’t go down easy. None of it did. “You think one of the judges scored Ronny higher than he should have because he was, I don’t know, convinced to make sure he and Natalie made it to the finals?”
Her stomach burned. It had to be Guy. Who else would have such a vested interest in the outcome of the competition? Who else did they already know was in Richard Bonneville’s pocket?
Jogi must have come to the same conclusion. The frown he wore was far more irritated than she was used to seeing on him.
“Why would any of the judges manipulate the results?” Benita asked.
Sandy exchanged a look with Jogi. Should they come clean and confess the bet they’d made with Guy? And if they did, how bad would the fall-out be?
“I bet it was Guy Sedgewick.” Rita saved them the trouble. “He’s always off playing golf with Richard Bonneville.”
Benita made a disapproving sound as she cut into her barbeque chicken. “I don’t like the way Richard has been cozying up to Guy lately. Abigail doesn’t like it either.”
Sandy and Jogi both froze in the middle of eating. They exchanged another look, then both turned toward Benita. “How do you know that?” Sandy asked.
Her mom shrugged. “I play bridge with Abigail on Wednesday nights.” Which was code for the group of women who got together for wine tastings and gossip once a week. “She thinks Richard is trying to buy Guy’s vote on the bank’s board.”
“I knew it,” Rita said with an acid snap to her voice. “How did someone like Guy Sedgewick end up on the board anyhow?”
“He owns shares in the bank,” Wainright answered. “All of the board members do.”
“Richard Bonneville is the second-highest shareholder besides us,” Benita informed Ward. “He’s been trying to wheedle his way into controlling the bank for as long as I can remember.”