Читать книгу Dance of Temptation - Janice Sims - Страница 8

“I’m sorry your father couldn’t make it,” Belana said to Nona after they’d hugged hello.

Nona, who was five-six, two inches taller than Belana, shrugged her slender shoulders regrettably. “We invited him, but he had to travel for work.”

Belana had once asked Nona about her father’s occupation and the girl had told her he was a lawyer. She had then quickly moved on to another subject, which made Belana think her father was a sore topic of conversation. To further make her suspicious that things were not going well between Nona and her father, one day, when they were practicing in the studio at the community center, Nona had mentioned that she didn’t live with her father. She lived with her grandmother, while he had an apartment in the city. Belana wondered why that was, but didn’t ask. She only knew that if she had a daughter as wonderful as Nona, she wouldn’t palm her off on her mother.

Belana smiled at Nona’s grandmother. “I’m glad you could make it, Mrs. Reed.”

Yvonne Reed was a petite, golden-brown-skinned beauty with silver, naturally wavy hair that she wore cut short and tapered at the nape. She was sixty-eight, but looked years younger. “I wouldn’t have missed it,” she said, dark brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “You were wonderful!”

“Oh, thank you,” Belana said with a warm smile.

“There you are!” Belana heard her brother, Erik, call behind them. She spun around and there he was hurrying toward her and the Reeds. When he reached her he hugged her tightly. “Great job, sis!”

“Thanks, Erik,” Belana said after he’d let her go. She gestured to the Reeds. “I’d like you to meet Nona Reed and her grandmother, Mrs. Yvonne Reed.”

Erik, six-one and athletic, was dressed in a black tailored suit, white shirt, dark gold tie and black wingtips polished to a high shine. He and Belana shared the same dark golden-brown skin tone and coppery brown eyes. He wore his black natural hair shorn very close to the scalp and was clean-shaven. Belana often told him he was ugly as sin, but that was simply a sister bringing a too-confident brother down a peg or two. He was a handsome devil, as both Nona’s and her grandmother’s reaction to his presence attested. They were smiling widely and gazing up at him with open admiration.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies,” Erik said as he smiled down at them.

“Did Mom and Dad already leave for the airport?” Belana asked Erik. Her stepmother, Isobel Jones-Whitaker, whom she called Mom, had phoned her to tell her she and her father would have to fly to Zurich for a scientific symposium right after the performance, but wouldn’t dream of missing her final bow as Odette.

“I’m afraid so,” Erik answered, still smiling at the Reeds. “I told them I would wait around and take you to a late dinner.”

“That sounds good,” said Belana. “I’m starving.” She looked at the Reeds. “Would you like to join us? My treat, it would give us more time to chat.”

“I’d love …” Nona began. But her grandmother grasped her arm, stopping her. Smiling, Yvonne turned to Belana. “You’re very sweet, but we should be getting home.”

Nona sighed with regret. She would’ve loved to share a meal with Belana and her gorgeous brother. How often did she get to dine with a ballet star? Better yet, how often did she get to practice her flirting skills, which needed a lot of work since she had just discovered she had flirting skills, on a real man? The guys she went to school with were no challenge at all. However, her grandmother delivered meals to elderly shut-ins on Saturday mornings, a task Nona helped with and it was more important to her not to disappoint her grandmother than socializing with one of her idols.

“Yeah, we have to get up early in the morning,” she said to Belana. She gave Belana another hug. “Thank you for inviting us tonight, we really enjoyed it.”

Belana hugged her back, thinking that even if her father couldn’t be with her as often as she wished, he had certainly chosen a good substitute in his mother. It was obvious Yvonne Reed was a good influence on her granddaughter.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” said Belana. “See you at the center in a couple of weeks, okay?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Nona assured Belana, and she took her grandmother’s proffered hand. They bade Belana and Erik good-night.

As they walked away, Erik said softly, “What a nice kid.”

“Yes, she is,” agreed Belana with a wistful tone to her voice.

Erik put an arm around her shoulders and they began walking toward the exit. Most of the two-thousand-plus theatergoers had left the theater so the lobby was fairly deserted now.

“You sound like you want one of those,” Erik joked.

Belana knew he was referring to her desire to have children one day. But that meant putting her career on hold and Belana, at twenty-eight, still felt she had a lot of years left in her body. Some dancers continued to perform well into their forties. Occasionally, you found one who was still dancing in their fifties, but they were the exception. The human body wore out. Joints became arthritic, muscles lost their tone, and bones became brittle with age. Dancers were constantly fighting to stay healthy.

“Someday,” Belana said softly. She looked up at him, “You’re the one about to turn thirty-three. You need to get on the ball!”

“I don’t need that from you and Gran,” Erik complained good-naturedly. Their father’s mother, Drusilla Whitaker, was on his case quite often. She said she wanted to be around to see at least one great-grandchild born. A mischievous smile crinkled his face. “Of course, if Ana Corelli were interested, I could be persuaded to procreate.”

Belana laughed. “Why don’t you just ask the girl out? You’ve been salivating over her for the past two years.”

“Because whenever I’m free, she’s involved with someone, and whenever she’s free I’m involved with someone.”

“She’s not involved with anyone right now,” Belana told him. “That pretty-boy actor she was dating was caught cheating.”

“What kind of fool would cheat on her?” Erik asked incredulously.

“A fool who believes the hype about his being the sexiest guy in America,” Belana answered.

“She was dating him?” Again, his tone was disbelieving.

Belana frowned, thinking of the flavor-of-the-month actor who had recently trampled on Ana Corelli’s heart. Ana, the sister of her friend Elle’s husband, Dominic Corelli, was a highly sought-after model living in New York City. She was exquisitely beautiful, her Italian and African-American heritage producing an exotic look that made anyone seeing her for the first time do a double take. As beautiful as her visage was, though, Ana Corelli’s spirit was even more beautiful. She was a sweet girl who was genuinely nice, sometimes a rarity among beautiful women. And she had talent, not just posing for the camera. She was a painter who, when she gained confidence, Belana was sure, would quit modeling and turn all her attention to her art where it belonged. That’s how strongly Belana felt that Ana’s true calling was not modeling but painting.

“I put a curse on him,” Belana told her brother as they stepped outside of the building and began walking toward the street. Friday night in Manhattan was crowded as usual. People were not in as big a rush as they were during daylight hours, though. They strolled down city streets going to the theater, in this district, going out to dinner, or just meeting friends for drinks. “The next time he has sex with some trampy starlet his thing is going to fall off.”

“Ouch!” Erik laughed. “Must you be so Lorena Bobbitt?”

“He deserves it,” Belana said with emotion. “You’re a man …”

“Oh, no, when a sentence starts with those words, I know I’m in for it,” said Erik.

“Seriously,” his sister persisted. “Why can’t a man be satisfied with one woman? Why does he need to have sex with as many women as possible?”

Erik, whose nature was to joke around when presented with an uncomfortable situation, cracked, “Where are all those women they’re having sex with? I’m lucky if I have a date on a Friday night. Look at me, taking my sister to dinner.”

Belana gave him her dead-eyes look. Erik hated that look. It meant she was fed up with joking and wasn’t going to put up with his mess. He swore she got it from Grandma Drusilla who was the only woman who could make him shake in his boots.

“If we’re going to have a serious conversation about the state of the male/female relationship, I’ll need sustenance,” he said. They stood in front of a small restaurant that theatergoers frequented and which was a favorite of Belana’s. Erik held the door open for Belana.

Inside, the hostess, a tall leggy redhead with green eyes cried, “Belana, I heard you killed tonight. Bravo, my sister!”

Belana gave Julie Banks, an actor working as a hostess until her big break came along, a warm hug. “Thanks, Julie.” Julie in turn kissed her on both cheeks. The two were invariably supportive of one another, as was often the case in the huge artistic community in New York City.

“Table for two?” asked Julie, her attention now on Erik. Belana hadn’t brought Erik in here before.

“Yes, please,” Belana said, smiling at Erik who was blushing from the intensity of Julie’s stare. “This is my brother, Erik,” Belana told Julie. “Erik, Julie Banks. She’s an actor.”

Julie held out her hand. Erik took it and covered it with his other one. “Nice to meet you, Julie,” he said.

“Any brother of Belana’s is a friend of mine,” quipped Julie, her pale cheeks turning a bright pink.

Erik let go of her hand and Julie led them through the packed dining room to a private booth in the back of the room. Julie took the reserved sign off the tabletop and gestured to the table. “I hope this is all right.”

“Perfect,” said Erik. “Thank you, Julie.”

“My pleasure,” said Julie, giving him a high-wattage smile. “A waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening.”

She walked away, her hips swaying sexily.

When she was gone, Belana laughed softly. “Oh, my God, I thought she was going to throw you on the table and have her way with you.”

“She was just being friendly,” Erik said modestly. He picked up a menu and pretended to be immediately engrossed in it.

Belana reached up and lowered the menu in his hands. “Don’t worry. I know you’re faithful to your infatuation with Ana. Back to my earlier question, why can’t men be faithful?”

“To be fair, sis,” Erik said, putting the menu on the table, “women cheat, too. Who do you suppose the males are cheating with? The straight males, I mean. We are talking about heterosexuals?”

“Of course,” said Belana with a touch of impatience.

“Don’t get snippy, baby sis, or I’ll have to remind you why you’re really upset about Ana’s boyfriend’s infidelity.”

Belana flashed him a belligerent challenge with her eyes. “Go on, Dr. Phil,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Nicolas Reed.” After Erik had said the dreaded name he instantly regretted it. His sister’s eyes filled with tears and she started sniffing to hold them at bay. He snapped up a white cloth napkin from the table and handed it to her. “Sorry,” he said simply, his tone pleading for forgiveness. Belana took the napkin and dabbed at her wet face.

She attempted a weak smile. “Damn, why do I still do that?”

“Because you were in love with the guy and you don’t want to admit it,” Erik said as if the explanation should be obvious to her.

“That can’t be it,” Belana denied emphatically. “I did the right thing by breaking up with him. He showed his true colors after only two months together; once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“Yeah, but you said you two hadn’t had the commitment conversation yet. He didn’t know you wanted an exclusive relationship. You told me he looked shocked when you told him why you didn’t want to see him anymore. You can’t punish a guy for breaking the rules if the rules aren’t even in place.”

“I instinctively knew we belonged together,” said Belana, knowing she sounded unreasonable. “Why didn’t he?”

“Come on now, sis, you know how you’ve held men at arm’s length for years because you were the one afraid of settling down. And no wonder. You were abandoned by your mother when you were barely two and she hasn’t made any effort to be in your life ever since. Yes, you would wonder if you’d inherited her lack of commitment. Now, though, you know you’re not like our mother. You have the capacity for long-term commitment. You just need to find the right guy. And you cry at the mention of Nicolas Reed because you think you might have missed your chance due to a case of miscommunication. Sounds to me as if he was hoping you wanted to be exclusive, but you weren’t honest with him.” Erik paused, waiting for Belana’s response to his accusation. All he got from his sister was more silent tears.

She rose. “Excuse me.”

Erik rose too, his hand on her elbow. “Are you all right? Should we go?”

Belana shook her head and picked up her bag. “I just need to wash my face. If the waiter comes before I get back, order for me. You know what I want.”

Erik sat down, feeling helpless. Why hadn’t he kept his big mouth shut this time? He and Belana had always been close. Their parents divorced when Belana was two and he was seven. He remembered the fights between his parents as vividly as if they had occurred yesterday. Their mother, Mari Elizabeth Whitaker, known as Mari Tautou today, accused their father, John, of hindering her career, of trying to keep her barefoot and pregnant. Mari was a dancer. Belana had inherited that much from Mari. That’s where the comparisons ended. Mari had never wanted to be a mother. The housekeeper, Mrs. Kent, got Erik up for school every morning, made his breakfast, saw him off to school. When he returned, she was there to give him an afternoon snack, make sure he did his homework, give him dinner and put him to bed at night. Belana was too young to remember the neglect by their mother, but he hadn’t been. Mari couldn’t even fake affection. He had felt loved by their father, but he had felt like an inconvenience to his mother. Those were not warm memories. He thanked God he had Mrs. Kent and his grandmother, Drusilla, as mother figures. Drusilla was kind enough not to deride his mother in his presence, even though he was quite sure Drusilla didn’t like her. Now that he was an adult, Drusilla no longer held her tongue on the subject of Mari. She’d told him he had better not marry a woman simply because she was beautiful. His choice had better have something wonderful going for her other than her looks. “Your father was blinded by your mother’s looks,” Drusilla said of Mari. “If he had bothered to look deeper he wouldn’t have had anything to do with her.” Then she had smiled and gently rubbed his cheek. “He did get two good things out of his marriage, you and Belana.”

Erik sighed deeply. The reason he had made Belana face her feelings for Nicolas Reed was because if she had dropped him because she feared commitment, and the misunderstanding that broke them up was not as monumental as Belana had described it, then she was allowing her mother to win. Allowing Mari to have an adverse affect on her life, when Mari never wanted to be a part of her life made no sense to Erik. By no means should Mari have that much influence. He would do everything in his power to prevent it.

The waiter arrived. He cleared his throat because Erik was still deep in his own thoughts. “Good evening, sir. Would you like to hear the specials?”

“No,” said Erik. “Just bring me two cheeseburgers, fries and vanilla milk shakes.”

Belana liked comfort food after a show closed. Something in her was in mourning whenever a show ran its course. Carbohydrates gave her an emotional boost. Plus, she only splurged a few times a year; every other day of the year she stuck to a healthy diet.

“Right away, sir,” said the waiter, a thin, middle-aged black man with a thin, graying mustache and absolutely no hair on his head. He wore the customary uniform consisting of a white shirt, black slacks and black comfortable shoes.

When Belana returned, looking refreshed, she sat down to a meal that had just been brought to their table. She smiled at her brother. “You’re an angel.”

Erik smiled knowingly. “Running an extra five miles is worth it.” He, too, liked to stay in shape.

They both said silent prayers before beginning to eat. Erik watched Belana attack her burger and smiled. “So what did you decide in the bathroom? To continue our conversation or ignore it altogether?”

Belana swallowed. She wiped some burger juices away from the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “I’m not going to ignore it. But what can I do? It’s been eight months, he’s probably moved on. He was dating someone else when I ran into them, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean he’s dating her now,” Erik said around a mouthful of burger. Belana frowned at his poor table manners. When they were kids he used to gross her out by showing her the food in his mouth while he was eating. At least he’d stopped doing that.

Seeing her expression, Erik swallowed and took a sip of his milk shake while he awaited her response. When she still didn’t say anything, he said, “Chicken?”

“I would be humiliated if I phoned him to try to get back together with him and he’s involved with someone else,” she admitted. She took a big bite of burger and chewed slowly, very slowly, letting her brother know that she would not be replying to any antagonistic questions any time soon.

Erik knew her, though, and decided to eat in silence. When her plate was clean, she would have no excuse not to answer his questions.

Halfway through their meal, Julie sauntered over to their table. “Is everything to your satisfaction?” she asked, smiling at Erik.

Erik was pleased to be interrupted. His sister wasn’t making an effort to be a pleasant dinner companion. “Hi, Julie,” he said, giving her the benefit of his sexiest smile. “Yes, thank you, everything’s great.”

Julie sighed and tossed her long, wavy red tresses over her shoulder. “Okay,” she said, drawing out the word as if she were reluctant to have to go. “Let me know if you need anything, and I mean anything.”

Belana noticed the stress she’d put on the word “anything” and had nearly choked on a fry. Her brother, charming devil, smiled suggestively at Julie, and said, “I surely will.”

Belana kicked him underneath the table.

When Julie had gone, Erik frowned at his sister. “That hurt.”

“I meant it to hurt,” Belana told him. Finished eating, she pushed her plate aside and pulled her milk shake forward to concentrate on it. “If you’re serious about Ana, you can’t go around flirting with waitresses. You see? That’s what I mean about men. I thought you loved Ana, and yet you can’t resist toying with the affections of an innocent bystander.”

Erik laughed shortly. “Who said I was in love with Ana? I am in fantasy-love with Ana. There’s a difference. And there’s no harm in a little flirting.”

“Until you take it to the next step, and believe me, Julie wants to take it to the next step. If you’re serious about Ana, I’ll help you. But I’m not going to help you get a date with Ana if you insist on behaving like a hound. She’s been hurt enough by men who didn’t know how to be faithful to one woman.”

“She has?” Erik asked.

“Don’t you know it’s the bane of the beautiful woman’s existence? Men want to be with beautiful women because they look good on their arms and make them the envy of other men. But beautiful women have a very hard time finding that one special guy who’ll love them for what’s inside, not for how they look.”

“Ana told you she’d been hurt before pretty-boy actor broke her heart?”

“A couple of times,” Belana told him. “So if you’re going to win Ana’s heart, you need to be unimpressed by her looks and get to know who she is on the inside.”

There was a contemplative expression on Erik’s face. He twirled his straw around in his milk shake, thinking. Then he looked across the table and met his sister’s eyes. “I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

Belana smiled, satisfied. “I’m glad to hear it. She’s going to be back in town in about three weeks. I’ll invite you both to dinner.”

“No,” said Erik.

“No?” cried Belana, surprised he would object to her fixing him up with the woman of his dreams.

“No,” her brother repeated. “A dinner designed for us to be in the same room at the same time, and it’s just the two of us invited, will look contrived. I’ll wait until one of the family dinners during the holidays when there will be lots of people around. I don’t want her guard up before I can even begin to plead my case.”

“It’s your call,” Belana said, resigned. “But it’s August. There are three months before Thanksgiving. What if she meets someone else?”

“She won’t,” Erik said confidently. “We’re meant to be together, I feel it.”

“I felt that way about Nick,” Belana reminded him. “But he apparently didn’t.”

“That you know of,” countered Erik. “You’re too chicken to ask him.”

“Yes, I am,” said Belana.

“Then you’ll never know,” said Erik with a sad note to his voice. “Look, Belana, I can’t force you to do anything, but I have to say this. If you can’t get over your cowardice and go after Nicolas Reed if you really want him, then Mari wins. Even though she has managed to stay out of your life all these years, she will have ruined it.”

The arrival of their waiter saved Belana from having to reply to that. “Can I get you anything else?” he politely asked.

“No,” Erik told him. “Thank you.”

The waiter promptly placed the check on the table. “Thank you for your patronage. Please come again.” He smiled faintly and walked away.

Erik picked up the check, put a nice tip on the table, and rose. Belana picked up her bag. She sensed her brother’s mood. He was disappointed in her. She hated it when he put her on a pedestal, behaving as if she couldn’t have flaws in her character like normal people. So, she was being a bit of a coward and protecting her heart when it came to Nicolas Reed. Did that make her a bad person? No!

Erik turned his back on her and began making his way to the front of the restaurant where he intended to pay the bill.

“I’ll think about it,” Belana blurted.

He stopped, turned and smiled at her. “Come here,” he said.

She went into his outstretched arms and they hugged. “You’ve got to stop manipulating me with emotional blackmail,” she complained.

“What are brothers for?” he asked with a smile.