Читать книгу Our First Dance - Judy Lynn Hubbard - Страница 11

Chapter 2

At 4:05 a.m. Natasha made her way into the rehearsal hall. She was early purposefully; the extra time would allow her to warm up and be limber and ready to go when formal rehearsal started. She wanted to blow Damien Johnson away with her dancing and dedication—to show him she intended to give everything she had to Juliet.

She didn’t see a soul, except the guard who let her into the building, as she made her way to an empty rehearsal room. She tugged off her leather jacket and sweatshirt, throwing them into a corner. Her shoes followed, being replaced by black ballet slippers. She twisted her hair back into a knot and decided to leave her white sweatpants on over her black leotards until she warmed up. She clipped her iPod onto her waist and pushed the earbuds into her ears, and without further ado she sat down on the cold hardwood floor to begin her workout.

Damien walked down the deserted hall on the way to his office and frowned when he spied a light coming from a rehearsal room. He glanced at his watch; it was a little after four. Who besides himself was here at this hour? As he approached the doorway he stopped, and the frown on his mouth turned into a smile when he spotted Natasha sitting on the floor stretching. His prima ballerina was ready to go. Good. He would have been disappointed if she hadn’t taken the initiative to come in early. She was ready to work hard, and he was more than willing to accommodate her.

He watched her for a few minutes as she went about her warm-up routine. She bent and contorted her body the way only a ballerina could before standing with her back toward him and walking over to the barre. Not wanting to interrupt, he took a step back until he was half-hidden by the door frame. She was so focused she didn’t realize she was being observed. She effortlessly raised one leg even with the barre until it rested against it and then stretched both arms over her head, arching her back; the movement pressed her firm, round breasts forward, drawing his eyes to the perfect globes.

Lord, she was spectacular! She had the perfect ballerina form—tall and slender with graceful legs and arms, but she also possessed womanly curves. He remembered how good her soft, yielding body had felt when she had thrown herself into his arms last night when he had offered her the part; he had been pleased by the impulsiveness and pure joy she had exhibited. There was sweetness and vulnerability to Natasha that appealed to him. He knew he had made the right choice for Juliet.

He had read her resumé and talked to some of her former employers, who had stated part of the reason she had never achieved lead status with them was because she was simply too nice and unwilling to do what it took to win and keep the lead. Damien had read between the not-so-subtle lines, understanding that Natasha had been unwilling to buy the lead with her body, which he respected and admired.

He felt he understood her struggle for success; Lord knew he had undergone his own when he had started his company ten years ago. He had come up against one roadblock after another. But he had persevered, and with encouragement from Rachel and his family, he had kept plodding, dreaming and working until he now owned a world-famous company that a number of people said would never make it. Success really was the best revenge. He wanted that for Natasha. She was talented, hungry and dedicated; he was glad to offer her the chance she deserved to achieve her goals.

As he continued to watch her, he suddenly imagined those elegant limbs wrapped around him, holding him close while that perfect body trembled in passion against his—whoa, boy, where had that come from? She’s your prima ballerina and your number one rule is to never get involved with dancers—especially those in your own company. Yes, she’s beautiful. Yes, she made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time, but they were here to work—nothing more, nothing less, and that’s all he intended to do with her.

He turned from the door and nearly collided with a tall, thin woman with salt-and-pepper hair that was pulled back into a bun.

“Excuse me.” He placed a steadying hand on her arm.

“It is quite all right,” she responded in a slightly accented voice. “You are Damien Johnson, no?”

“Yes, I am, and you are?”

“I am Erina Deneuva, Natasha Carter’s coach.”

“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She shook his outstretched hand. “I hope you do not mind my presence. When Natasha called me last night with the wonderful news, she asked if I would come and work with her during this production.”

“No, that’s fine, as long as you understand I don’t reimburse dancers for personal coaches.”

“Of course.” Erina smiled. “Natasha pays me as always, but even if she could not I would be here for her.”

“That’s an admirable thing to say.”

“It is true. She is like a daughter to me.”

“How long have you coached her?”

“For twenty-one years,” she proudly answered. “We have been through a lot together.”

“She’s lucky to have someone so loyal.”

“Thank you, Mr. Johnson.”

“Call me Damien.”

“Damien.” Friendly hazel eyes met his. “Thank you for giving Natasha the chance she has long deserved.”

“She earned it.”

“She will not disappoint you.”

“I know she won’t.”

“Can you tell me where I may find her?”

“She’s in there—” he pointed behind him “—warming up.”

“Excellent.” Erina smiled. “If you will excuse me.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Erina.”

“And you too, Damien.” She smiled before entering the room where Natasha rehearsed.

After a few seconds he heard Natasha exclaim, “Erina, I did it!”

“Yes, you did. I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Nonsense, child, where else would I be?”

“I still can’t believe Damien Johnson came to my house to offer me the part.”

“That is very unusual.”

“Isn’t it? I wonder why he did it.”

“Who knows, but the main thing is that you got the part, no?”

“Yes.” Her voice was bubbly with excitement. “I’m going to dance Juliet.”

“Yes, you are. Now let us get down to work so that you will be brilliant, shall we?”

“I’m already warmed up.”

“We will see.” Erina’s teasing voice elicited a laugh from Natasha. “Come, first position.”

Outside in the hallway, Damien’s smile turned to a slight frown. Rachel had also questioned his insistence on telling Natasha in person she was their choice for Juliet. He hadn’t explained it to her satisfaction because he really hadn’t understood it himself; telling Natasha in person had just been something he had wanted to do, and so he had. No big deal.

Shaking his head, he started down the hallway in the opposite direction. He had a million things to do before rehearsal started, and standing around contemplating his uncharacteristic behavior regarding Natasha wasn’t one of them.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Natasha along with the other dancers stood in the main auditorium listening to Damien welcome them to the troupe.

“Good morning, everyone.” Damien received echoing responses from the occupants of the room and continued. “First let me congratulate all of you on beating out stiff competition for your respective parts.” He glanced at Natasha. “You are all here because you are the best and for no other reason.”

He placed an arm around Rachel’s shoulders, and hers went around his waist. “You all know Rachel Weston, casting director,” Damien continued, “who is responsible in large part for your jobs.”

“I’m highly susceptible to bribes—preferably chocolate.” Rachel smiled, causing a round of laughter. “I’m glad to be working with all of you, and if this guy gives you any trouble, I’ll do my best to get you out of it.”

“I believe in hard work, and you may even come to think of me as an ogre.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in.

“Truer words…” Rachel promised, causing another round of laughter, including Damien’s.

“You keep me out of this.” Damien affectionately scowled at her before continuing. “But I promise you once it’s all over, the finished product will speak highly for itself.” He glanced at his dancers, focusing on Natasha. “I’m going to drive you hard—probably harder than you’ve ever been driven before,” he promised. “I apologize now for anything I might do to anger or offend anyone, because in two minutes when rehearsal starts, I’m sorry are two words you will never hear from me.” He walked back center stage and his facial expression hardened slightly. “I’m a perfectionist, and I’ll demand perfection from each of you. I’ll receive it, or you won’t be here,” he sternly promised. “Any questions?” When none was forthcoming, he clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

“Let the fun begin.” Rachel laughed as Damien joined her in front of the stage.

“Let’s start with the ensembles.” Damien began organizing groups. “The lead dancers should follow Ron and Carla, our assistant choreographers.” He waved the group, including Natasha, away.

* * *

Natasha and fifteen other dancers entered a large white room whose walls were lined with brown wooden benches and ballet barres. She tightened the belt of her white wraparound skirt, glancing up as a male dancer approached her.

“Hi.” He extended his hand. “I’m Dennis, your partner.”

“Hi.” She shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” His appreciative eyes traveled over her face and body.

Natasha smiled tolerantly into his wolfish smiling eyes. It seemed she would have to put him in his place as she had numerous other partners in the past. He was tall, about six feet, with short black hair and dark brown skin. He definitely had a dancer’s body. She couldn’t help comparing him with Damien, who was a few inches taller and much more muscled and oh so more appealing.

“I can’t wait to dance with you.”

“We’ll have plenty of opportunity for that.”

“Hmm.” He bobbed his eyebrows. “That suits me just fine.”

“Dennis.” She shook her head in remonstration. “We’re here to work.” She paused for emphasis before concluding, “And that’s all I intend to do with you.”

He sighed dramatically. “A guy can dream, can’t he?”

She laughed. “Just make sure you can distinguish between fantasy and reality.”

He grabbed her hand. “You’re gonna give me an inferiority complex.”

She chuckled. “I don’t think there’s much chance of that, Romeo.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “You know, Juliet, I think I like you.”

“I like you too, as a friend. Got it?”

“Got it,” he echoed, kissing her cheek lingeringly. “But it’s your loss.”

“I think I’ll survive.” She playfully tapped his cheek, and he covered her hand with his before bringing it to his lips.

Damien chose that moment to stick his head in, and his eyes narrowed at the apparent intimate scene between Natasha and Dennis, though he made no comment. He couldn’t blame the guy for being attracted to Natasha, but it seemed he would have to set Dennis straight about his strict no-fraternizing rule for his dancers; they were here to work, not engage in romance.

“Dennis, Natasha, let’s try the courting dance.”

Their heads turned in unison at his voice, and they moved to the center of the room. With Damien watching attentively, they performed the entire dance. “That was good, but I need it to be snappier and sexier.” Damien walked over to them and took Natasha’s hand. “Let me show you what I mean.”

An effortless tug of his hand twirled her toward him and they began to dance. She vaguely registered the females were all swooning over him, and frankly she couldn’t blame them. They didn’t perform any strenuous moves, just teasing, testing, dancing close and moving away. They danced seductively, performing the same moves she had just done with Dennis; however, what had seemed tame with Dennis was positively scandalous with Damien. He touched her possessively as if it was his right, and their bodies were the perfect complements moving in complete sexy synchronization.

He suddenly pulled her to him tightly before almost throwing her away again. She pirouetted back en pointes on the top of her toes elegantly before darting away. She leaped toward him, and he caught her midair and then allowed her to slide ever so slowly down his hard muscled body, ensuring that she felt every wonderful inch of his unbending strength against her giving softness. Their eyes met and held hypnotically for several intense seconds that seemed like hours. The breath caught in her throat when his head levitated toward hers slightly as if he was going to kiss her.

He held her close for earth-shattering seconds before reluctantly releasing her. “See what I mean?”

“Yes, I think so.” Dennis nodded in agreement.

“Yes,” Natasha softly echoed.

She moved into Dennis’s arms and noticed the immediate difference between the two men. Damien’s powerful touch diminished Dennis’s still-capable hands. She and Dennis mimicked the dance over and over again to perfect it. Damien fought down rising jealousy as they danced, as he had instructed and silently shouted at himself that this was about business; it wasn’t personal. They were giving him and, more important, the dance what was required, and he had to remember that. Forcing himself to watch them objectively, he made them repeat the dance until he was satisfied with their performance.

“That’s it.” He smiled triumphantly after they had performed the full dance eight times in a row. “Take a break, you two.”

Natasha and Dennis both heaved sighs of relief at his words. Dennis leaned against a nearby wall before sliding to the floor, and Natasha gratefully walked over and took a seat on a wooden bench to catch her breath for a few seconds. Damien was a perfectionist—good. So was she, and she would rehearse the dance one hundred times if that was required to perfect it. She stood and walked over to Dennis, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet to practice with her.

“Come on, Natasha, let me rest for a few minutes,” Dennis complained.

“You can rest tonight at home.” Natasha twirled into his arms. “Now, let’s dance.”

“All right.” He sighed. “But if I step on your toes or pass out, you have only yourself to blame.”

She laughed. “I’ve been warned.”

Before Damien turned his attention to another pair of dancers, he glanced her way and smiled briefly in approval. She returned his smile before focusing on Dennis and their dance.

* * *

The day flew by and before she knew it, it was a little after 8:30 p.m., but she still wasn’t ready to call it a night. She had never been so tired, nor felt so alive. She had thought Erina was a taskmaster, but she had nothing on Damien. He was a perfectionist, and she vowed she would be perfect for him.

Sounds of music echoed in the quiet as she rehearsed her first dance alone. She had tried to get Dennis to stick around, but he had moaned that a hot bath was calling to him. She smiled as she pirouetted around the room, improvising when she came to the part she would be dancing with Dennis.

“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.