The Dance Off

The kiss grew intense, heated, sumptuous, long. So long, when they finally pulled apart Ryder couldn’t quite catch his breath. And—by the way Nadia’s eyes flickered back and forth between his—he was pretty certain she felt the same way.

And yet she was leaving. Extremely soon. And while every impulse was to squeeze every last drop of passion from their affair that he could, he knew the level-headed move was to begin the gentle withdraw gracefully. Before anybody got hurt.

Ryder spun her about and gave her a little shove in the opposite direction. “Come on, Teach. You’re not the only one with a countdown till the day you have to set the dance world on fire. The guests at the Fitzgerald-Johnson nuptials will not be disappointed.”

She shot him a dark glance over her shoulder, but when he didn’t give her what she was looking for she rolled her shoulder, morphed into teacher mode. And gave Ryder one of the hardest workouts he’d ever had.

On their way out Ryder saw the extra bag he’d brought that he’d completely forgotten about in all the excitement. He thought about leaving it forgotten, but in the end he silently handed it over.

“For me?” Nadia took the bag and poked her head inside. She blinked. “Apples.”

“I saw them and thought of you.”

When she looked up her eyes were wide, and there was no hiding the flush that had risen to her cheeks. “But I only owed you one—now I owe you a tree.”

“And don’t think I don’t have every intention of collecting on the debt. Before you leave,” he added as he held open the door leading outside the building.

“The man’s all charm. How will I ever survive the parting?” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yet the glance she shot him as she slid past him was not. It was quick; it was fleeting. It was yearning. And it had had nothing to do with what was ahead of her, and everything to do with him.

Ryder swung his keys around a finger as he opened up the passenger side of his car, trying to ignore it. The look, the way it had landed right in his centre with a thud, the way this woman managed to make his well-shackled ego roar to life.

Till she was about to slide inside. Then he whipped an arm across the door, blocking her way. His voice was subterranean as he asked, “Think you’ll miss me when you head off to the bright lights of Sin City?”

Her eyes widened a fraction, her pupils swamping her dark irises in a red-hot instant. Then she shrugged and said, “Meh.”

His ego growled at the challenge. “You scoff now, Miss Kent, but just hope I don’t really turn on the charm. You might never bring yourself to leave.”

She breathed in hard, seeming to suck away all the air around them, and all the dangerous teasing of the past few minutes compressed until they were suddenly locked in their own personal pressure cell.

“Ryder.” Her voice was deep, vibrating, but tinged with warning. “I will leave. I have to.”

“I know that,” said Ryder.

Her brow creased into a series of little frowns. Then, just before she slipped into her car, she said, “I will miss you though.”

Hell. “Right back at ya, kid.”

The ride back to his place was quiet.

* * *

“Crap!”

“Problem?” Ryder asked, glancing up from reading the “paper” on his tablet.

Nadia was settled on his couch wearing one of his T-shirts, glaring at his laptop perched on her bare legs. He’d woken that morning to find her still curled into his arms. The first time she hadn’t snuck out during the night. It seemed he wasn’t the only one debating the benefit of getting as much out of their last days together as they could.

She dug her fingers into her hair. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Anything I can do?”

She pinned him with a dark look that didn’t bode well.

“Not unless you have any Mafia links.”

“For what purpose?”

“I might be in need of a hit man.”

Right. “I work in construction. What do you think?”

Her eyes widened and lost the dark clouds for a few seconds as she took that in, but they slowly slid back in. Then she lay back on the couch, an arm flung elegantly over her eyes, her feet hooked over the back rest.

“Nadia, you’re currently more intriguing than today’s news but I am about to hit the entertainment section...”

One eye poked out. “Nope. Don’t want to demystify your elevated opinion of me.”

When her feet began to point and flex coquettishly over the back of his couch, Ryder pressed himself away from his chair and went to join her. It didn’t take much. “And what, pray tell, does this elevated opinion entail exactly?”