by Harper Sloan
I laughed breathlessly and moved to walk around him, but he put his hands up to stop me, angling me so that my back was up against the car with his arms on either side of me, giving me no easy exit.
He was this close to me, and I felt the charge as though I was hooked up to a generator. I took a deep breath, hoping to steady myself. That wasn’t a great move, because then I was breathing in his delicious and powerful scent. It was a mix of body wash, cologne and his natural scent, and it completely addled my brain.
Looking into my eyes, he studied my face. “Rina… Why didn’t I know that you were dancing with some man? I feel like you're not talking to me anymore. Is something going on?”
At that point, he was annoying me and I had had enough. “Dante, I don’t have to tell you everything I do. I’m an adult, and you aren’t my keeper. You’re totally overreacting. Nothing is going on! I’m living my life. I’m having fun. It isn’t like I was purposely not telling you. It just never came up. You certainly don’t tell me everything YOU do.”
His mouth opened and closed several times, as though he was searching for words. That was a first, as I’d never seen Dante speechless. Taking a step back, he shook his head.
“Sabrina, at this point, I actually do tell you damn near everything I do. We spend so much time together that I either tell you or you’re right there with me. Besides Damien and Spencer, you know me better than anyone. They're my brothers, but you’re my best friend. I guess I thought you shared your stuff, too. I’m sorry you feel as though I’m intruding.”
Right then I understood women who say that men are the most frustrating creatures on earth. Glaring at him, I snapped, “Oh for goodness sake, Dante! Knock it off. I don’t think you’re intruding, and I didn’t imply that either. Honestly, it isn’t as though I was trying to hide anything. It just never occurred to me that the fact I’ve got a dance partner is something you would be even remotely interested in.”
“Well. I guess if that’s what you thought,” he said as he shook his head. “Sorry.”
His apology soothed my ruffled feathers, and I decided to extend a proverbial olive branch in order to shut the whole thing down on a positive note.
“It’s all good,” I said. “In fact, the competition I’ve been practicing for is this Saturday afternoon. You, Damien, Spencer and the girls are invited… if you think you could sit through watching something like that.”
It was a token gesture because I knew he wouldn’t come. The idea of Dante sitting and watching ballroom dance was preposterous. I smirked at him while I waited for him to make an excuse, and I was caught totally off guard when he nodded before replying, “Okay. What time and where? I’ll email the others and see if they’re free to come with me. Is Brooke going?”
Talk about an unexpected development. I so had not anticipated Dante saying he would come, but I’d made the offer and I needed to follow through. “It’s at the ballroom in the Beverly Wilshire on Saturday at three and yes, Brooke is coming."
“Well count me in. I’ll be there, too.” He gave me his thousand-watt smile and the tension eased even though his smile made me clench and unclench my core. He took my arm in the way that he normally did and we started to walk toward the bank of elevators. The day finally stopped throwing surprises at me, and I was relieved to move on from such an insane morning.
I dragged myself out of bed early the next morning to go to the gym with Dante, even though my muscles were still on fire from the previous night due to another marathon dance practice followed by my nightly masturbation session. Dante was making me crazy, and my desire for him grew exponentially by the hour.
Dante still seemed a little unsettled after what I had come to think of as the freeway incident. There was nothing specific that I could point to exactly—but he seemed off. I found him staring at me at least a dozen times, totally lost in thought. I’m not sure what that was all about, but I hoped that he would stop worrying when I showed up at the gym to work out with him.
After throwing on a tank top, running shorts and sneakers, I grabbed the garment bag I had loaded up the night before with my work clothes for the day, along with the bag I had packed with clothes for the coming evening. Once I had it all loaded into my car, I hit the road.
I was at the health club by six thirty. Dante wasn’t there yet, so I checked in and took my clothes to the locker room where I spent a few minutes organizing my locker so that I'd be good to go when I got back from my workout.
Coming out of the locker room, I found Dante standing outside in the hall waiting by the doors. Smiling, I made my way over to him, surprised to note that he actually looked relieved to see me. Walking to him, I smiled and asked if he was ready to run. He nodded in the affirmative and we took the stairs up to the third floor where we took spots on treadmills that were side by side. Setting the speed on each of our treadmills to warm up, we both started walking.
Over the next ten minutes, we worked our way up to jogging before we both set our speeds higher and started running. My mind cleared when I ran, which was why I enjoyed it. It was also a guilty pleasure to watch Dante’s body in motion. He’s insanely hot to begin with, but when he’s sweating and his muscles are moving it's a total wow; sex appeal in its most potent form… and it turned me on like crazy every time. It was clearly a pheromone thing, because the scent of his sweat made me insane with lust.
After forty-five minutes, we were both finished. Making our way out of the cardio area, we walked down to the second floor and then headed into the café. Dante ordered us the usual – hot coffee with a bacon, egg and cheese bagel for him, and orange juice with an egg and cheese bagel for me.
I grabbed us a table and then sat and waited for him to bring the food over. The food service in the café was fast, and he was back in a few minutes with our order. Taking a seat he distributed our food before we each dug in.
After taking a few bites he asked, "Are you excited about going to see Keith Urban tonight?"
Smiling, I nodded. "I'm so ready, especially since neither of us has seen him before. It should be fun!"
“Agreed. How about we leave work around five-thirty, go to our favorite burger joint for dinner and then head to the Staples Center for the show?”
I agreed immediately. “Sounds like a plan.”
It was going to be a long day, but I loved going to concerts so I didn't care at all. After we finished eating, we headed off to the locker rooms and went our separate ways. I showered and then got dressed for work in record time, and I was right behind Dante getting to the office. We were both at our desks by eight thirty.
The day passed in a blur of conference calls and in house meetings, and it felt like I had just taken a seat at my desk for the day when Dante called my desk.
“It’s after five fifteen and I don’t know about you, but I’ve done enough work for the day. Let’s get changed and get the hell out of here. I’m going down to Damien’s office to get changed so you can go use my bathroom. Think you can be ready by the time I get back?”
I laughed as I assured him that I could. Less than a minute later he walked through our office on his way out to Damien’s, and I felt my pulse accelerate as I watched him walk away. Smiling to myself, I grabbed my bag and headed into the bathroom in his office to get changed. To think that on the first day I met him, I had believed the office gossip that he was difficult to work for. I’d found the exact opposite to be true, and being his assistant and his best friend made me very happy.
Realizing that I only had a few minutes to get ready, I hauled ass to finish before him. I emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in jean shorts, a tank top and a pair of sandals. Styling my hair into a loose French braid had finished the look, and I was ready to go.
Our office suite was empty, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for getting ready faster than him. Settling into the couch that took up the seating alcove in Dante’s office, I took in the amazing view of Los Angeles.
The alcove and the
view it provided was one of the star attractions when Dante had meetings with clients in his office. It was beautifully done, giving a feeling that you were suspended high up over the city. Many a deal had been closed after clients saw the scope of what Hart International was able to build.
Hearing footsteps, I turned and watched Dante walk back into the office. He’d changed into a pair of jeans that hit him in all the right spots and I had to hold in a sound of appreciation. Paired with a t-shirt that stretched across his gorgeous chest, he looked phenomenal. If he wasn't so business-minded, he could have been a model.
My stomach fluttered and my heart skipped a beat as I watched him come toward me. It really was sinful how hot he was. Mentally shaking my head, I stood up and walked across the room to meet him halfway.
Taking in my outfit, he ran his hands through his hair and blew out a harsh breath. “Shit, Rina. I’m going to have to keep a perimeter around you tonight. Your legs look way too fucking sexy in those shorts.”
I grinned and shook my head at him because he was such a charmer. “You're a flatterer, but I think I’m safe, Dante. They’re just legs.”
Shaking his head, he gave a choked laugh. “Oh sure, they’re just legs. I don’t think you see yourself very well at all Sabrina. You might want to look into that.”
I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head at how silly he was being. I certainly wasn’t some leggy glamazon like the Dante bots, so I knew he was just being courteous.
Heading down to the parking garage we got into his Range Rover and headed off to our favorite burger place. The dinner rush was starting, but we were quickly seated because I'd made a reservation. Without consulting our menus, we both ordered deluxe cheeseburgers with extra pickles, French fries, onion rings, and a black and white milkshake for each of us.
Settling into our booth to wait for the food, I saw that Dante was fidgeting. It was unusual, but I didn’t know if I should comment on it or not. He’d been acting weird since yesterday, and I didn’t want to ruin the mood. I was thinking about how oddly he was acting when he blurted out, “So, who’s this guy you’re dancing with?”
Right then I the reason for the fidgeting dawned on me—he was in full detective/protector mode. Although I wished he actually felt jealous, I knew that wasn't the case, so I smiled at him as I answered his question. “His name is Marcus. His partner quit and my instructor asked me if I’d step in and help him, so I did.”
He so didn't look happy with that answer, but I wasn't sure why.
“What’s he like, this Marcus? Young? Old? Attractive? What does he do? Do you see him outside of dancing? Are you interested in him? If he’s got a pulse, I know damn well that he’s interested in you. Has he tried anything?”
Wow. That was quite an unexpected barrage of questions. I realized that this must be what he did when Dominique or Delilah dated, and decided to answer him honestly just to set his mind at ease.
“He’s a bit younger than I am. He's a personal trainer and dances as a hobby. We’ve gone out for dinner after dancing, but otherwise we haven’t gone out socially. He’s very attractive, but no, I don’t think I’m interested in him.”
Running his hands through his hair, he pondered my answers for a moment. “So, you haven’t hung out… but you might? What do you mean you don’t think you’re interested in him? That sounds like you’re on the fence. Is this guy up for consideration?”
I chuckled nervously at that last bit. “Um, can you clarify what ‘up for consideration’ means?”
Frowning at me he answered, “It means are you attracted enough to consider him as a potential man in your life?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I fiddled with my soda straw. Suddenly I was really embarrassed to be talking about this with Dante, so I avoided looking at him.
“I’m not attracted to him per se. It has been over a year since I’ve even gone out on a date with anyone, and three years since I was in a relationship. I’m thinking it’s time I broadened my horizons, and I have thought about accepting his date requests. I just don’t think I see a relationship with him going anywhere. But who knows? Maybe he could surprise me. Hell, maybe I could surprise me. It’s time for me to try being attracted to someone I can have instead of being so infatuated with…”
I halted abruptly, mortified by what I'd almost let slip out. That was the downside to how close we'd gotten. I shared most everything with Dante, except the fact that I was plagued by a serious case of lust for him, and I'd just come perilously close to letting that cat out of the bag.
He didn’t look at all happy when I glanced back at him, and it took him a few seconds to respond. “So there is somebody you are interested in. Judging by what you just said, I’m guessing it’s someone you don’t feel you can have. Please tell me that you aren’t pining after someone who’s married.”
Fidgeting in my seat, I blew out a frustrated breath and glared at him. “Dante, you know me better than that. Of course it's not a married man. I’d never do that. This is… well, it’s something I won’t discuss. So please, can we just drop it?”
I was saved by the arrival of dinner. Unfortunately, the conversation had killed my appetite so I just picked at my burger. Dante must not have been hungry either, because he ate remarkably little of his food either.
It was a relief when our plates were taken away and we stood to leave. Making our way back to the car, we headed off to the Staples Center. I put Keith Urban on his iPod and turned up the car stereo so that it was too loud to talk, and the trip passed without further conversation.
The mood improved dramatically when we got to the Staples Center. One of my favorite things about going to concerts with Dante was the fact that he always took my hand once we were about to step into the crowd so that we wouldn’t get separated. Right on cue, once we were inside he took my hand in his, linking our fingers together as we made our way through the concourse to buy a beer to share before we headed down onto the floor to our seats. My hand tingled from his touch because I'd come alive at the connection. It was always that way, no matter how small the touch.
We loved Keith Urban, and the concert was awesome. He was on fire and he played all of our favorite songs. We spent the next two and a half hours dancing, smiling and singing along, thoroughly enjoying the show.
After the show was finished, he grabbed my hand again and we made our way to the car. We reviewed the concert on the way back to the office garage, both agreeing that we would put him on our “must see” list for all future tours. We pulled into the parking garage at work after midnight, and after saying our goodbyes I climbed into my car and drove home still singing my favorite Keith song, “Long Hot Summer.”
I was home a bit after one, and after scrubbing my face and changing into pajamas, I climbed into bed. As exhausted as I was, I spent the next hour tossing and turning, thinking about Dante and the conversation we had at dinner. I danced a little too close to the line at dinner and it scared me. I'd have been mortified if he knew how I felt, because I just knew he would feel uncomfortable, or worse. I'd have been beyond humiliated if he’d felt sorry for me. I needed to always remember that it would ruin our friendship if he knew how I felt. My feelings for him were just destined to be one sided and never reciprocated.
With that depressing thought, I fell asleep.
The rest of the week passed without incident. Dante was a lot tenser than usual, but I chalked that up to the fact that it was our busiest time of the year at work. We had projects on top of projects, bids that needed to go out and sites that needed to be finalized, so we were all super busy.
I couldn’t make our morning workouts for the rest of the week, which I knew Dante wasn't happy about but there was nothing to be done about it. I had no choice but to spend every night practicing with Marcus in preparation for the competition that weekend. By that point, I was just looking forward to the competition being over. I was dancing myself to the point of dropping, and I was beyond ready to take a serious break.
&nbs
p; Saturday dawned bright and beautiful, and I was up at dawn to spend a few hours practicing with Marcus. We were at the studio together by seven thirty, dancing to the song we were using for our interpretation of the tango, Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body.”
It was astonishing how tight our dancing had become in just a few weeks. While it was a ridiculous amount of work, I was glad that I had put myself into it for Marcus’ sake. We were both happy with how the dance looked, and we ended at ten so that we could both go home to get ready.
After dressing at home, I was at the Beverly Wilshire by one. The staging area was packed with people like me who were re-applying their make-up and making sure their costumes were perfect. While I’d not been super excited about the weight I lost, I was thrilled with how I looked for the competition.
The costume I was wearing was white with black accents and crystals. The fabric was cut on the diagonal under my breasts and didn’t pick up again until just under my belly button. The dress was held together with fabric on my right side which left my stomach, my left side and most of my back exposed. The skirt was stretchy and went to my ankles, but had a slit up either side of my legs that was seriously sexy. It was completely daring and over-the-top, but I loved it anyway.
My body was so tight from all the dancing that even I had to admit I looked damn good. My hair was down and curled. My make-up was far sexier than what I normally would have worn it, but it looked just right for the competition. I twisted to and fro, looking at myself in the mirror, almost not believing my eyes. I felt sexy and that made me happy.
Marcus and I watched the other couples dancing on a monitor in the staging area. Everyone looked so good, and I loved watching the routines that all of the couples had put together. When our number was called, I was surprisingly nerve free.
We hit the floor and the dance passed in a flash of twists, turns, spins, elevations and dips. Our final move was called the “open legs”, with my right leg wrapped over Marcus’ left as he dipped me. I smiled up at him in pure joy that we'd made it through the dance with no missteps. I was totally caught off guard when he lowered his head and captured my mouth in a kiss before spinning me out so we could bow.