Winning Moves (Stepping Up 3)

Kat felt her cheeks heat and her stomach twist. Ellie was giving her some big shoes to fill. She drew a calming breath and then followed Ellie into the room. A group of six people sat around a conference table, but she only saw one—the one sitting at the head of the table. She only saw him. Jason Alright, with his light brown tousled hair, his square jaw shadowed with stubble and his deep green eyes, intense as they met hers. Those eyes reached inside her and warmed her in all kinds of wickedly wonderful, and yet painful, ways, as they always did. Those soulfully sexy eyes had landed her in bed with him two years before, just before she’d left the country. And ten years before, those same eyes had spoken to her heart, her soul, the day they’d stood at the altar and gotten married.

This wasn’t going to work. She had to leave now.

Jason’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head ever-so-slightly, telling her not to leave, and reading her like he always did. Did he know she was coming? Surely, he hadn’t known.

“This is Kat Moore,” Ellie said to the group, touching Kat’s arm and announcing, “Kat is the best choreographer in this business.” She elbowed Kat. “After me, of course.”

Kat laughed. “Of course.”

Ellie grinned and continued, “She just got back from a world tour with the pop star Marcus Knight today, which was pure luck for us.” She glanced at Kat, explaining, “We’re basically trying to bring Stepping Up to life in a musical, and the best people to make that happen are those who are a part of the television show, who understand what that means. So we’re important to the creative process, though most of us won’t stay involved beyond that. We just can’t swing the time for both the Vegas production and the TV show.”

Kat let out a discreet breath. Maybe Jason wasn’t going to be involved long-term. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want her to leave. Maybe.

Ellie began her introductions, going around the table quickly. Kat greeted two women and a man before Ellie said, “Meet Lana Taylor and Darla Nelson, both judges for the show, as I’m sure you know. We trust them, so their help enables us to work under such a tight time crunch.”

“We’re arguing over casting,” said Lana, a pretty brunette known for her diva attitude on the show. “Nothing new there, though, if you watch the show.”

Kat didn’t watch. Ever. But it wasn’t like she could say, Sorry. I don’t watch because my ex-husband that I’ve never stopped loving, who’s ripped my heart out a few too many times, is one of the stars.

“No, indeed,” Darla chimed in, shoving a long lock of blond hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing new about Lana and I disagreeing.” She smiled at Kat. “You’ll get used to us fighting, though. Even I have. It’s very nice to meet you, Kat. I’m excited to meet someone Ellie is so excited about.”

“Oh, please,” Lana said. “Enough with the excitement.”

Darla laughed and wrapped an arm around Lana. “You’d never know she likes me.”

“I don’t,” Lana said tightly and then sighed. “Oh, okay, I do, but that’s a big secret, Kat. The audience loves our bickering.”

The mention of a secret echoed in Kat’s mind, and her gaze discreetly slid to Jason’s, the connection tingling down her spine with shared understanding. They had a secret, too. A past they’d never hidden, but it had been so long ago, before either of them were established in the industry.

“And last but not least,” Ellie announced. “Meet Jason Alright. He’s—”

“Hello, Kat.”

“Jason,” she said softly.

“You look good. Your hair’s longer now.”

“And you forgot how to shave.”

He ran his hand behind his neck and laughed, a soft, warm sexy sound that sizzled along her nerve endings. She loved the man’s laugh. “I guess I did,” he agreed, glancing around the room and announcing, “Yes. We know each other.” They knew each other all right, and a few people understood how, but then, they’d been unknowns, barely getting started, always apart. He patted the table beside him. “Come sit down, Kat.”

By him. She wanted to be by him. That was dangerous. She’d be so close to touching him—way, way too close. Touching him was bad and oh-so-good. She’d proven, over and over again, that not only was she putty in Jason’s hands, she enjoyed every second of it.

Jason rose and, pulling the chair out for her, she moved toward him. It was official. Not only was he still tall, lean and muscular, he still made black jeans, a Harley T-shirt and biker boots look like the definition of sin in the city. And she would bet her left arm that somewhere nearby he had a leather jacket, despite the heat of Vegas in July.