The pain in her chest threatened to cleave her body in two. Had she known how fragile she was, she wouldn’t have messed with her heart. Instead, she would have encased it in stone, all the better to block out disturbingly sexy men. Somewhere within her, she knew she’d never get over this second betrayal of love. Far simpler to admit it now and stop fighting the pain. It was all very well telling herself to get on with it, but the fact this disturbing reality was inching closer made her see the future without him. One last dance and it would be over.
Stretching, she glanced out the window, searching for anything to stop her thoughts, and saw the Yorkshire moors, bleak and unyielding. Even if the very worst that could happen, didn’t, things were going to change. Matthias would take Bella away for holidays, weekends, leaving Ava alone. No daughter, no love. Days stretching endlessly without her little friend, her companion. She knew she would die a little death each Christmas not spent with Bella.
She flung an arm over her eyes and entered a dim, unseeing haze until the driver gently interrupted her to announce they had reached the outskirts of London. Stretching, she opened the blinds and welcomed in the early-morning sun. She would soon see her little girl. Ava, a single mother and probably to remain the rest of her life. Her thoughts occupied her until the limousine pulled up outside her house.
Opening her front door, she heard scampering and Bella appeared at the end of the long hall.
“Mamma.” Bella ran toward her. Curls bopping and arms outspread, she jumped into Ava’s arms.
Ava swept her into a bear hug, delighting in the chubby arms tight around her neck. A golden glow of maternal love spread through her. She forced out negative thoughts and concentrated on the moment. Times like these may soon disappear. That night in bed, she went over the feeling of her daughter’s arms around her until she fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * * *
Ava entered the dance studio only for her limbs to seize up. Much as she yearned to avoid coming in today, her innate fairness, both to Luca and Matthias, forced her in. It hadn’t been easy—quite the reverse—despite a longing to see Matthias, to try and reach across the barrier he placed between them.
An uncomfortably fast heart rate sounded in her ears. She scanned the reception for signs of him. The man who plagued her nightmares and tortured her dreams for the past twenty-four hours. Rock bottom. Was this what it felt like?
Once she saw reception was clear, movement returned and she scooted across the open floor to the exit door, not daring to take the lift for as surely as her name was Ava Marie Whittaker, he would join her in it. At least on the stairs, she had an escape route. Clattering upwards, she heard a door open, quickened her pace to match her heartbeat, and fled to her studio.
Once the studio door shut, she leant gratefully against it to stem her flustered thoughts and breathe deeply. Luca was limbering up across the room when she entered, but stopped to gracefully glide toward her, face alight with excitement.
“Ava, sweetie, you won’t guess.” He stopped expectantly. A faithful dog searching for praise came to mind.
“No, what is it?” And did she really care? No.
“Come on, guess!” A crestfallen expression supplanted the excitement and Ava heaved a big inner sigh. Because her life was in turmoil didn’t mean she could take it out on him.
“The show has been cancelled for Saturday night and we have been announced the winners?” Ava played with a strand of hair, wishing for it to be the truth. Now she was here, she just wanted to cut and run.
“Better than that…” He stopped and glanced at her, waiting for her reply.
She shrugged. “Surprise me!”
“The dance we are performing on Saturday night is…drum roll please… The Argentine Tango!” Luca spun around with a flourish, only to bow dramatically at her feet.
The Argentine Tango.
Well fan-blooming-tastic. When she was sure life couldn’t spin anymore beyond her control, the dance she had to perform—to win the competition—was his dance. The dance that he had whispered was foreplay, pure and simple.
Dismay flipped her tummy. She couldn’t do it. It had taken all of her not inconsiderable strength to come in today, plus the badgering of a mum-who-knew-best, but this was beyond her. A question burned inside her. She had to know.
“Will we have a mentor?”
Luca stopped cavorting around the room, and at her question a slight disappointment replaced the eagerness in his gaze.
“Yes, Simon will be, but the prince of Argentine Tango, no make that the king, will oversee our training. As he will be with Jessica and Ian, Phillipa and Justin.”
Some relief calmed Ava at Luca’s initial words. Then the confirmation that Matthias would be around and near her, and God forbid, dancing with her, crashed and dragged her heart into her boots. How would she cope?
What had she thought about caring? More fool her. Again.
“We have no time to spare. Come, come, get ready please. I know the other two couples have started practicing already. And guess what our music is?” He paused in his tirade and flapped a hand in her direction. “You won’t, you heathen! But it’s the Assassin’s Tango! You must know it. If for nothing else, then the tango that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie danced in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
Ava nodded weakly. Sure. Wasn’t that about a warring couple? Great. Things were getting better by the second.
Luca strutted to the stereo and fiddled about while Ava took off her coat and changed her shoes to stand in her soft yoga pants and midriff-baring sports top. One thing about the past six weeks, her body had hardened and firmed in places she had never dreamed possible after having a baby. At least there were some positives in her life at the moment. For now, hard work and concentration may drive the bleakness from her heart for a small time.
“Now, let me tell you about the Argentine Tango…” The slamming of the door against the wall drowned Luca’s voice out.
The air charged at her and departed, winding her. She swallowed with a dry throat, feeling flutters in her lower tummy.
A deep voice carried through the studio. “I will tell you about the Argentine Tango.”
Ava’s lowered glance took in his legs and ended at black dance shoes, which, glowing with a blue shine, slowly began to circle her. The music of Jaws popped into her head, beckoning hysteria. What had happened in Jaws, anyway…had they been killed? Eaten alive? Anything was preferable to this. A low ringing was quickly muffled when Luca picked up his phone with a curse.
“My apologies.” He breathed out the words and flustered with his phone. Ava was grateful for somewhere to redirect her attention, feeling sorry for him all the same.
The dark presence in her right vision snapped his heels together and threw his hand out toward the door. “Go, take your phone call outside.” Luca diminished before the raw masculine power and scuttled out. Ava stood quietly, breathing deeply, welcoming the anger that lit the edges of her dark mood.
As the door shushed closed behind Luca, she found the strength to look at Matthias. Even though she’d prepared herself, a jolt of desolation threatened to soak through the anger. She took an even breath, pushing despair away. Anger was her only ally against the fury that made up the man in front of her, his dark green eyes almost obsidian black, clenched jaw in a mask-like face. The tendrils of his scent rose to meet her, the amber and spice smell that was so absolutely his, summoned image after image of them together in bed. He prowled around her, long limbs moving sinuously beneath black trousers, broad chest outlined in a black t-shirt. A shiver sparked up and down her spine, as she recalled those shoulders tensing when she had danced light fingertips across them, only to dig in her nails before losing herself in abandonment. As though he knew her thoughts, the heat of his gaze warmed her blood, thinning it to skitter through her veins.
He was the hunter, she the hunted.
Chapter 16
Matthias kept Ava in his vision while he walked and talked, ignoring the f
act he was greedily drinking in the sight of her, hair in a high ponytail, strong and fit in her work-out clothes. Her flat stomach shifted uneasily. Was she holding her breath? Her fresh scent infused the air with vanilla and warmth. He resolutely pushed any attraction from his mind. He didn’t even know for sure what he was doing there—it was like worrying a sore over and over.
“The Argentine Tango—” He paused for effect. “—is a result of the diversity of dance and music generated by the influx of immigrants into Argentina. The Tango evolved where freed and working slaves came together to dance. There is passion.”
He clicked his heels together, a sound which broke the tense silence simmering between the two of them. “There is loss.” He bowed mockingly. “A key element to the Tango is the yearning of men who shipped to Argentina for their women left at home. Desperate longing and sexual innuendo combined to make the dance a fiercely passionate and truthful one.”
He halted in front of her and saw her flinch at his words. Stray curls escaped the ponytail which she blew from her face. Her jaw tightened and she raised her head, azure eyes beseeching. For what? Understanding?
Ava glanced away but not before resignation filled her face. “We need to talk, figure out what to do.” Her voice was low but she bit the words out.
“Certainly we do. But not now. For now, we dance.”
Her shoulders straightened and she tapped her foot impatiently. “Fine.”
He continued with the history of the dance, aware he made it sound like a diatribe against her. Dammit, this was his dance, the one his body yearned to perform with her. “In modern times, the tango epitomizes the glamour and elegance of society, but never forget it originated in the underbelly. Think you can handle it?”
He raised a brow, imbuing his words with scathing edge. All the better to ignore the desire that rose along with the glow which started below her opal and moved toward her neck. Deep breathing caused her breasts to strain against the Lycra. With what appeared like contrived casualness, she draped an arm against her waist, striving for a nonchalance she obviously didn’t feel.
“I think you should start this dance encircling, but keeping a wary eye on each other.” He strutted sharply, gesturing for her to do the same and carried on talking. “There is no set routine to the tango, rather it is a spontaneous dance, guided by the lead. However, there are moves you must learn in order to follow where the lead goes. There is little touching, rather a leaning toward each other, from the chests. Occasionally the dancers’ chests may touch, but more often foreheads will.”
He stepped closer and held his arms out in a mute invitation. After an initial hesitation, her head came up and she stepped into his circle. Heat filled his body. Her right hand slipped coolly onto his, while her left lay gently on his shoulder. He swallowed, throat dry. For though he was angry with her, this dance was sublimely beautiful and he wanted to dance it with her. He shoved the thought away with a ruthless edge, easy enough to summon.
* * * *
Ava was lost in the sensuous movement of his body, his words dissipating into a low, meaningless rumble. Her head spun, and not just with the effect of watching him. Weak and tired from lack of sleep, she had to plumb the very depths of her reserves to withstand the constant attack of stronger emotions coursing through her.
Run, a little voice whispered, run like the wind.
Alas, she couldn’t. Better to stay and see this through than to spend the rest of her life running. For she had no doubt that he would track her down.
“Get some DVDs out and watch them for the tango scene. Rudolph Valentino in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse dances the tango very well. Watch it.”
Luca rushed through the door, slightly pink as if from exertion. Matthias’s eyes skittered to him, but all too soon returned to hers, just in time to catch the love me plea she was sure they contained. With a wrench, she glanced aside, tempted to embrace the vulnerability threatening to bring her to her knees in front of him. What would happen if she did? As though reading her mind, Matthias released her, but not before she heard a near soundless growl from him. A flicker of hope sparked. Did he find this hard too? Even at the thought, a barrier rose and he stiffened his spine, lost to her again.
“Luca, I need to speak to you regarding the choreography. Ava is good enough to be spontaneous and follow where you lead once she learns the basics. But I want it made clear to everyone watching that you are in charge. You are saying “no” while Ava tries everything in her power to win you over. You should be under attack from her. There should be at least three lifts, preferably with Ava throwing herself at you. You accept her, lose yourself a few times, but ultimately, I want you standing back with Ava at your feet, arms around your knees in a bid to hold you.”
Luca hung on every word, intense concentration warring with unadulterated admiration. Matthias swung to her, gauntlet firmly thrown down. “If you can manage to tell that story, I have no doubt you will win this competition.” He gave a mock bow, nodded to Luca and strode toward the door. There, he paused for a fraction of a second before his shoulders straightened and he swung the door open.
As the man she loved left, Ava took a trembling breath so deep it strained her lungs. Sadness spread from her heart, reaching out to her entire body. She slumped against the mirrors, sliding to the floor. How could she go on today when all she wanted was to go home, get Bella and hide under the duvet? Not an option.
But she could talk to Matthias, see if everything couldn’t be put right. Leaping to her feet, Ava hurried after Mathias in time to catch sight of his back. He was heading to the roof so she strengthened her resolve and followed. Slowly, she stepped to his side where he graced her with a slight sideways glance. Quiet determination stole through her, both at the rightness of being by his side, and her body’s desire to recalibrate itself with his. The constant movement of people on the street below attracted her eyes.
Wait, he must speak first.
“Ava.” Matthias spoke the words as pigeons flew past. “Would you like to move to Argentina?” Bitterness filled his words like vinegar would in sweet tea.
Tears threatened to overwhelm her. He was asking for her to say no. A breath juddered through her. She hung her head. “Is that what you want? Me and Bella to move with you?” She had voiced it now, there was no going back. He moved closer to her and raised her chin with one finger. “I would like Bella to grow up in Argentina. Surely you can see she would have a better childhood in the outdoors then here in this…this concrete jungle. If you feel you have to be with her, then fine. Come with us. I can set you up in a couple of rooms in the hostel. Bella will spend most of her days on the ranch anyway, learning to ride.”
His words were killing her with a slow painful squeeze of her heart. He was right. But at least he wasn’t talking about taking Bella away from her. That was something. Still, a knife sharpened itself on her heart, stealing words and strength from her. After an interminable length of time, he turned and strode to the door, resentment seething from every movement.
Ava sank against the low wall.
It was over. Now it was payback time in the grand form of despair. He didn’t love her, never had. Her life streamed long and empty in front of her.
Not only had she not gotten the man of her dreams, the very same man was going to take away the other big love of her life.
* * * *
The days rattled by, each one bringing their own clamor to Matthias’ mind. Full of righteous indignation at Ava, the clarity of that emotion soon departed him in the face of an ever changing mind.
One day he would allow himself to believe she had come back—how else could she have known about the photograph in the paper?—the next he was sure she had lied. Why would she have done that? Something small within him yearned to know that she had come back, to know he could trust her words.
He snorted. Impossible. Far easier to believe the worst of her, build his strong armor back around his heart, and from now on accept his claim
that he didn’t need love. For he remembered too well the conversation with Ava, and that he hadn’t want children in his life. He hadn’t believed himself then, but thought he could make it true.
Twice he had forced himself to watch her dance the tango routine with Luca and it had been hard to see her perform the dance without him. But he had done it, not allowing himself the luxury of imaging himself in Luca’s place.
His daughter called out in his dreams but he held back from arranging another meeting. That would involve engaging with Ava and he wanted to nurse his beliefs until they were rock steady defenses against her very being. Unsure whether she was aware of it or reacted in the same way, he knew damn well his body stirred in ways it never had just standing beside her. As he had listened to her speak, heard the pleading in her voice, he had to force his heart to turn to ice. To ignore her and to believe what he wanted. Easier, less messy in the long term.
* * * *
The low buzz of excitement about the finale permeated the studios and built with every day that passed.
It left Ava cold, knowing that on Sunday reality would come knocking. But she learned her steps assiduously, refusing to acknowledge a deeply buried hope that if she performed well on Saturday night, Matthias’s heart would melt. How many times now had he heaped salt on her hope? Why was she setting herself up again?
The night before the final, Ava arrived home to put Bella to bed and asked her mum to stay on for a glass of wine. Her mum nodded and poured the cold Faustino into a glass, handed it over, then leaned into the comfortable sofa.
“Right, spill.” The expression on her mother’s face broached no arguments so Ava told her everything that happened in the last week.
“And he didn’t believe you?” Her mum’s voice was loaded with love for her.
Taming the Tango Champion Page 15