Our First Dance
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“You need a partner.”
She gasped and turned toward the door, where Damien leaned against the frame watching her.
“Damien, you startled me.”
“Sorry.” He walked over to her. “You still have energy left after rehearsals. That’s admirable.”
“This ballet is everything to me. I can rest after the performances are over.”
“I like your attitude.”
“I’m going to give you—the role of Juliet—everything I have, Damien. I won’t fail you.”
“I know.” He smiled. “I sensed the drive in you. I’m glad you’re not disappointing me.”
“I won’t, ever.” Her eyes were deadly serious. “I promise.”
That was a promise she intended to keep. This wonderful man was giving her the chance of a lifetime, and she would always be grateful to him for that. She wasn’t used to having someone of Damien’s caliber treat her with such respect and courtesy. She had other bosses in the past who had blatantly dangled the lead in her face in exchange for unlimited access to her body; vile offers that she had rejected. Damien had offered her the lead without even hinting that she repay him with anything other than hard work and brilliance. He possessed integrity—a trait she had started to believe no longer existed in the executive branches of the world of dance.
“I know you won’t.” He extended his hand. “Shall we?”
She hesitated for a second before taking his hand, allowing him to pull her close. She knew this was a mistake, but masochist that she was, she wanted to feel his arms around her. She had to stop thinking about him like this; he was her boss, and his offer to dance with her wasn’t emotionally motivated—it was business.
“Where do we start?”
“At the beginning.” He released her and walked over to select the appropriate music before returning.
When he placed both hands on her waist and maneuvered until her back was pressed against his muscled chest, every logical thought quickly fled from her mind, being replaced with inappropriate desire instead. The music began and they started dancing very close, yet bodies never intimately touching again; she always stayed just out of his reach.
They danced together for about fifteen minutes and he deliberately changed their steps so that they ended close together as they had begun, her back to his stomach—instead of an arm’s length apart. He twirled her around to face him so that their lips were nearly touching and his arms were around her waist. Their rapidly beating hearts echoed the same intense rhythm—in part due to the dance, but in bigger part due to the obvious attraction that sprung to life when they touched that neither seemed capable of controlling.
After a few minutes, by silent mutual consent, they released each other and took a step backward away from temptation.
“I could use some water,” Natasha spoke, simply to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“Me too.” He walked to the door. “Let’s see what’s left in the break room.”
She should refuse and leave, but she didn’t. Instead she followed him out. Once in the deserted kitchen, she found a bottle of water and he opted for black coffee. They sat at a small table.
“So what do you think of the ballet?” He chose a nice, safe topic of conversation.
“It’s wonderful.” She smiled. “Romeo and Juliet has always been one of my favorites. I can’t wait to perform.”
“Nothing is more exciting than opening night,” he agreed.
“Especially when you’re dancing the lead.”
“I’m glad you tried out for Juliet.”
“So am I.”
“Not to pat myself on the back, but my company is internationally known and many of my ballerinas are world famous. Why didn’t you attend any of our open auditions?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was busy working with other troupes.”
She sensed he knew she was lying. She had wanted to prove she could make it in any troupe—not just an African-American one. That had been important to her, but now after years of frustration, she simply wanted to dance the lead.
“I’m glad the opportunity finally presented itself.”
“So am I.” She smiled at him, grateful for his obvious tact.
“You don’t wear a lot of makeup, do you?”
“Excuse me?” She nearly choked on her water. “Do you think I need to?”
“Definitely not.” He smiled and trailed a finger lightly down her cheek. His smile widened as he felt the shudder that passed through her at his actions. “You have the softest, smoothest skin.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was whisper soft.
His finger lingered maddeningly before eventually, reluctantly ending contact with her flesh. She felt bereft the second it did.
“Tell me what drives you, Natasha.”
She shrugged, willing her heart to slow its frantic rhythm. “Work is my passion and my life.”
He smiled in understanding. “A fellow workaholic.”
“Definitely.” She echoed his smile.
Suddenly for reasons he refused to examine, he wanted to know more about her, her life, her past. “Do you have a large family?”
She hesitated for a second before answering, “Average. My older brother, Nathan, is a lawyer. He lives in Washington. My younger sister, Nicole, dreams of being a famous fashion designer. She lives with our parents in Rochester. What about you?”
“Marcy, my sister, is a stockbroker like my dad,” he said with some pride. “She lives here in the city, and our parents stay most weekends in the Hamptons. My mom’s a partner in her law firm.”
“Are you and your sister close?”
“Very.”
“So are Nathan, Nicole and I.” She sipped her water. “I can’t wait to see them.”
“You love them very much,” he said with approval.
“Yes.”
Her feeling toward her family pleased him because it echoed his and also because her genuine affection for them showed she could care about someone other than herself. She seemed steady and reliable and, thankfully, grounded—so unlike the psychopath he had the misfortune to get mixed up with ten years ago, Mia; her dysfunctional relationship with her family should have been his first clue that she wasn’t playing with a full deck. But, Mia had been very good at pretending. When he remembered all the pain he had endured because of that maniac…
“Damien, are you all right?”
“Yes.” He pulled himself out of his unpleasant memories. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” At his nod, her frown nearly disappeared. “Okay. Well, I think I’ll head home. I’m beat.”
“I don’t doubt it. You put in a brutal day.”
She sighed contentedly. “I loved every second of it.”
“Good, because tomorrow will be just as long,” he promised around a smile.
“I’ll be prepared.” She stood and he followed suit. “Good night.”
“May I walk you home?” Why had he said that? It was the gentlemanly thing to do. That’s why.
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s late. You shouldn’t be walking the streets by yourself.”
“I’ve lived in the city my entire life, and it isn’t that late.”
“All right.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night.”
Leaving her nearly untouched water on the table, she quickly left. She felt Damien’s eyes boring into her back. She wanted to turn around but didn’t. Instead she walked faster until she was no longer in his sight. She had to do something about her feelings for him, which were completely inappropriate and unexpected. She wasn’t going to destroy this chance by lusting after her boss—no matter how handsome and kind he was, and the sooner her contrary body realized that fact, the better off she would be.
Chapter 3
Several nights later, Natasha walked into the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel on Dennis’s arm. She wished her parents and sister were here, but her father’s newest gallery was opening in Boston. They had wanted to postpone it, but Natasha had insisted they go since Erina would be with her and she would see them all in a few weeks.
She couldn’t believe she was finally on the receiving end of a party introducing her as a prima ballerina. She glanced around the brightly lit ballroom, her eyes widening farther in awe. There had to be several hundred people in attendance. She had expected a much smaller event, but Damien had spared no expense—champagne fountains littered the room, exquisitely stacked buffet tables lined one side of the wall and elaborate ice sculptures were placed strategically throughout the ornate room that housed a multitude of sculpted stone pillars and sparkling crystal chandeliers.
Some of the hottest names in the ballet world were present, and they were here to see her. She felt like a princess and though the evening had just begun, she knew it was one she would never forget.
Her fingernails dug into Dennis’s arm, causing him to wince slightly. “Hey, release the death grip.”
“I’m sorry.” She eased the pressure on his arm. “Can you believe all of this?”
“Relax,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s just a party. You’ve been to parties before.”
“Not ones held to introduce me as a prima ballerina,” she whispered back excitedly.
He glanced down into her overwhelmed face. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”
“I hope not.” Her grip tightened on his arm again.
“I know I have that effect on women.” He smiled wryly. “But please don’t.”
She laughed as he intended, and her features relaxed somewhat. “I’ll try to contain my pleasure at being your date.”
“I’m surprised you asked me to escort you.”
“Why?” She stared up at him. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course, but I thought your boyfriend would bring you.”
She shrugged. “I’m not seeing anyone currently.”
“We could remedy that.” His hand covered hers as it lay on his arm.
“Dennis, don’t start that again.” She shook her head in rebuke. “We work together, and it wouldn’t be wise for us to date while we do.”
His eyes twinkled. “Do you always do what’s wise?”
“Always,” she firmly informed him.
“What about when we’re not working together?”
She smiled sweetly. “I hope that day never comes.”
“I suppose I can’t be mad at you for thinking that way.”
“No, you can’t. Now stop hitting on me and let’s enjoy the party as friends, all right?”
“Deal.” He kissed her cheek.
“Good evening, Natasha, Dennis.”
Natasha glanced up to see a slightly frowning Damien standing in front of them. A tall slender woman was clinging to his arm as if she never intended to let go.
“Good evening, Damien.” Natasha smiled at him. He looked wonderful dressed in a black tuxedo that accentuated his muscled physique.
“Hello, Damien, nice party.” Dennis shook his hand.
“Thanks.” Damien returned the other man’s handshake. “This is Shelia Reynolds. Shelia, may I introduce Natasha Carter and Dennis Brown.”
“Nice to meet you.” Dennis and Natasha spoke simultaneously and then laughed.
“You too.” Shelia coolly shook their hands.
Natasha noticed the woman’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and appeared phony—much as she did. Natasha was certain that her long straight hair was a weave and her red nails were false, as were a few of her body parts—particularly her buxom breasts that were straining against the revealing confines of the white gown she wore. She was pretty, if one leaned toward the dramatic.
“You look familiar.” Dennis focused on Shelia. “Have we met before?”
At Dennis’s innocent question, Shelia suddenly acted as if he had insulted her. Her lips thinned and she let out an audible disgruntled sigh.
“Well, I should. I’m the main character on Today’s World,” she indignantly named a top-rated reality show.
“Oh, well I don’t watch the show, but good for you.”
Natasha forced herself not to laugh at Dennis’s perfectly aimed jab. As if sensing her struggle, he chuckled and placed an arm around her waist, a move she noticed seemed to intensify Damien’s frown.
“Darling—” Shelia glanced at Dennis pointedly while pressing closer to Damien’s side “—I could use a drink.”
“In a minute.” Damien extricated himself from his date and took Natasha’s hand. “I need to introduce my prima ballerina to everyone.”
Without another word, he pulled her away from their respective dates, both of whom were staring after them, flabbergasted at being deserted.
“Should we leave Dennis and Shelia like that?”
“They’ll be fine,” he dismissively replied. “I didn’t know you were coming with Dennis.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I hope not.” He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one. “I don’t allow romances between members of my troupe.”
“Dennis and I aren’t involved romantically.”
“No?” Intense eyes bore into hers.
“No, we’re just friends.” At his raised eyebrow, she felt compelled to elaborate. “I didn’t have a date for tonight, and he offered to escort me.”
“I don’t believe you couldn’t get a date other than a fellow dancer.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t get a date. I said I didn’t have one.” She took a sip of her champagne. “I’m surprised you’re not here with Rachel.”
“She’s here, but why would you think we’d come together?”
“You two just seem—close.” She watched him furtively over the rim of her glass.
“We are, very.”
“Oh, I see.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What exactly do you see, Natasha?”
She glanced away from his penetrating gaze without answering, offering him the opportunity to appreciate her appearance unobtrusively. Her black floor-length gown was simple yet sexy with its sheer sleeves, high neckline and daringly low-cut back. The material clung to her curves in all the right places; she was, in a word, delectable. Never before had he been more aware of how beautiful she was than now seeing her all dressed up.
Diamond teardrop earrings hung from her ears, and her hair was pinned back into a flawless chignon. He had the ridiculous urge to release it and run his fingers through the soft strands. That’s not all he wanted to do—her full, burgundy-colored lips begged to be kissed, which was an invitation he almost accepted.
“Come with me,” he tersely ordered, taking her hand again and leading her onto the stage. They stopped in front of the orchestra, which at Damien’s nod played an introduction, causing a hush to settle over the room.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I would like to thank all of you for coming tonight to help me celebrate and welcome a new prima ballerina to my troupe who will be dancing the lead in my next production, an original version of Romeo and Juliet. I look forward to great things from this exquisitely beautiful and supremely talented ballerina.” He turned to Natasha and raised his glass. “May I present to you all, Natasha Carter.”
Applause rang out. Natasha curtsied to the audience and clinked her glass with Damien’s. They drank their champagne, eyes never leaving each other’s. Her heart was thudding, not from the adulation being bestowed on her, but rather from the way he was staring at her. Before she could contemplate exactly what she had seen in his eyes, he took her hand and helped her down from the platform and took her around to introduce her to some of the elite guests.
Natasha was blown away by the guest list; everyone who was anyone in the ballet world was present and seemed enthralled with Damien. The guests treated her to the kind of admiration she had always dreamed of receiving, but had begun to think she would never achieve.
“Thank you for this, Damien,” she spoke when they were relatively alone again. “This is fabulous.”
“It’s no more than you deserve.”
His easily uttered, sincere words touched her heart. She felt close to crying from the utter happiness she felt at the moment—due in large part to Damien. She suddenly wanted to grab him, pull him close and never let him go. For the life of her, she didn’t know how she resisted.
“Shouldn’t you get back to Shelia?”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“No, of course not.” She glanced across the room, where Shelia stood with her arms crossed, glaring at them. “It’s just that she doesn’t seem very happy.”
Damien chuckled. “Don’t worry about Shelia. I’m not.” To prove his point, he took her glass, deposited it along with his own onto a nearby table and pulled her into the center of the room, where various couples were dancing.
“What are you doing?” she whispered in shock.
He pulled her close. “I’m dancing with my prima ballerina.”
“I don’t think this is wise.”
“Why not?”
She glanced around the room; a lot of eyes were glued to them. “People will talk.”
He shrugged. “It’s expected that I dance with you. Besides, it’s not as if we’re naked, rolling around on satin sheets.”
His words conjured up forbidden images, which she fought mightily to dispel. Why did he have to say that? Now she would have that not-unpleasant idea in her head for the remainder of the night.
“You’re the one who said you don’t allow dating between troupe members.”
“We’re not dating.” His hand pressed against her bare back. “We’re dancing.”
“I know, but…” Her voice trailed off as his fingers lightly strummed against her spine.
“Besides, I’m the boss, I make the rules.” He smiled at her roguishly. “But I don’t have to follow them.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure how she should take that statement. Was he teasing her, or was he hinting at something forbidden?
He twirled her around the floor, pressing her body tighter against his unyielding one. She fought to maintain her composure. They had danced before, but not like this. Maybe it was because parts of their bare flesh touched or because here and now they were a man and a woman instead of two dancers rehearsing. She didn’t know, but whatever the reason, this dance was systematically destroying her second by wonderful second. She contradictorily found herself praying for it to both end and go on and on. She was in trouble, and she had no idea of how she had fallen into peril or how to extricate herself from it.
“Damien, I’m tired. I’d like to sit down.”
“You spend fourteen hours a day every day dancing strenuously, and a few minutes of slow dancing with me have worn you out?”
Put like that it sounded ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t get out of his arms right now, she was going to do something foolish and embarrass both of them.
“People are staring,” she lamely informed.
He glanced pointedly around the room. No one was paying them any undue attention. When he gazed back into her distressed eyes, he smiled slightly. “No they’re not.”
“Please.” She pulled against his hand. “You don’t want to be the subject of gossip, and neither do I.”
“One thing you’ll learn about me, Natasha, is that I don’t live my life by other people’s rules,” he promised before releasing her suddenly. “Thanks for the dance.”
Before she could respond, he had walked away, leaving her in the middle of the dance floor. She tried not to feel abandoned, because he had done as she had asked. She slowly walked over to pick up another glass of champagne and silently cursed herself for missing Damien’s company.
As Damien slowly walked back to his date, a smile played about his lips. He had enjoyed his brief time with Natasha and would have prolonged it, had he not been fighting a strong urge to kiss her tempting lips. How had someone so pure survived in the cutthroat world of dance for years as she had? She made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t in years; she was so fresh and, frankly, naïve, and he was completely intrigued by her.
“So you finally remembered me?” Shelia said when he stopped by her side.
“How could I forget you?” Damien’s suddenly bored eyes drifted over his date’s angry countenance.
“I don’t appreciate being abandoned for Bambi,” Shelia made her displeasure known.
His eyes narrowed. “First of all, this party is for Natasha, not you. Secondly, you don’t now nor will you ever own me. I do what I want when I want. Thirdly, if you’re not having a good time, no one’s forcing you to stay.”
“Damien.” She grabbed his arm as he turned to walk away. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I was all alone.”
“I’m sure you weren’t traumatized for the few minutes I attended to the guest of honor.”
“Don’t be too sure.” She placed a hand on his chest and pressed close. “Now that you’ve done your duty, why don’t we get out of here and go back to my place?”
“Maybe later. I still have a lot of mingling to do.” He disentangled his arm from her fingers. “Are you coming, or do you want me to have a car take you home?”
His demeanor made it crystal clear he was fine with whichever option she chose. Shelia was a readily available date when he needed one. She wasn’t the type of woman he could ever be serious about, which he supposed was her appeal. She had used some of his contacts in entertainment to further her career. In fact, he had gotten her the audition for her current job, so she couldn’t complain about their casual on-call arrangement.
“I’m coming with you.” She walked over and linked her arm through his.
“Suit yourself,” he said and shrugged.
As they walked toward the buffet tables, his eyes automatically scanned the immense crowd for Natasha—the woman he really wanted at his side for the remainder of the party.
* * *
“Congratulations, Natasha.”
“Thanks, Rachel.” Natasha scanned the crowd. “Have you seen Dennis?”
“A few minutes ago. I think he was heading toward the buffet.”
“I should go find him.”
“He’ll keep for a minute.” Rachel placed a halting hand on her arm. “You and Damien looked good together on the dance floor.”
“He was just being polite.”
“I doubt that.” Rachel laughed. “There’s no law against you two dancing.”
“I know, but his date didn’t seem too happy about it.”
“Shelia?” Rachel shrugged dismissively. “She’s overly melodramatic. I think it stems from her acting career.”
“You don’t sound like you like her.”
“Oh, she’s all right.”
“Why didn’t you come with Damien tonight?”
Rachel smiled. “Damien and I are good friends. We don’t date each other.”
“Have you ever?” Natasha didn’t know why she was feeling so bold, but she couldn’t seem to stop the questions from exiting her mouth.
“No.” At Natasha’s obvious interest, Rachel decided to elaborate. “We met about eleven years ago when I was choreographing a ballet he was dancing in. We hit it off and have been friends ever since.”
“Oh.” Natasha smiled brightly. “That’s nice.”
“That information pleases you.”
“No, not at all.” Natasha quickly denied. “I just…”
“Are you interested in Damien?”
“Damien has a no-dating policy for his troupe,” Natasha sidestepped her question. “I had to assure him tonight Dennis and I are just friends.”
“Really?” Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“His concern was professional, of course,” Natasha quickly added.
“Of course.” Rachel didn’t look convinced. “But you still didn’t answer my question—are you interested in Damien romantically?”
Natasha chose her words carefully. “Rachel, I like Damien. He’s been kind to me. But I’ve worked too long and too hard for this opportunity to jeopardize it.”
“All that’s true, but…”
“There you are.” Dennis touched Natasha’s arm. “I was beginning to feel ditched.”
Natasha could have kissed him for interrupting Rachel’s inquisition. She was quickly running out of ways to deny that she did have inappropriate feelings for Damien.
“I’m sorry.” Natasha took his hand. “I promise to be a perfect, attentive date for the remainder of the evening.”
“I’m going to hold you to that one.” He pulled her toward the dance floor. “Excuse us, Rachel?”
“Of course. Have fun.”
Rachel watched the two leave with mixed emotions. Natasha appeared to be honest and focused on her career, but she also was interested in Damien. She couldn’t blame her, but she had no intention of standing idly by again the way she had ten years ago while Damien got hurt. She intended to keep an eye on Natasha, just in case she wasn’t what she appeared to be.