Chapter 7

Anne smiled down at the young girl who eerily resembled her uncle with her light brown hair with flecks of gold and her chocolate brown eyes. “Why would you want to come all the way over here for lessons? I mean I’d love to have you, but there’s a very good dance studio in Winslow.”

“My uncle told me I’d like it here.” She grinned, revealing two empty spaces where new teeth were beginning to appear. “And that I’d like you. And since he’s paying for my classes—”

Anne looked up at Chris. “You’re paying?”

“I’m paying.”

For some bizarre reason, her heart was suddenly doing cartwheels. She had to force her eyes away from him and focus on his niece. Clearing her throat she said, “Welcome to our dance school, Sara. I hope you’ll like it here.” She was bewildered, to say the least. Why was Chris doing this? Why wouldn’t he just pay for her lessons in Winslow? Why would he bring her all the way to Canden Valley for classes? He certainly didn’t seem that impressed with her. Although he had selected her for the photo shoot. Maybe he knew more about dance than she realized. And maybe he liked the way she taught and wanted his niece to benefit from that. Still, something had her completely mystified. Especially since once he left town and went back to wherever he came from, how would Sara get to class?

“I think I’ll like it a lot,” the little girl assured her as she gazed at the large dance floor. “I know it’s too close to your Nutcracker performance for me to have a part, but maybe I could help backstage or something?”

Anne shook her head, hoping that would help her focus on this conversation. She replayed the child’s words in her mind. “There’s always a part for a good dancer. How fast are you at learning new steps?”

“Pretty fast I think.”

“Very fast,” Chris confirmed.

“Then I’ll find you a part.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It’s a contemporary dance version, and the parts are quite different from the ballet version. My advanced dancers have more extensive parts, of course, but I like to make sure all the dancers have at least a moment of glory.”

“Cool.” Sara grabbed her uncle’s hand and yanked on it. Chris bent down so she could put her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Uncle Chris. Thank you, so much.”

“You’re very welcome, squirt.” He kissed her on the forehead before straightening.

Anne looked over at Chris and wondered why he was grinning as if he’d just won the lottery. 

“Why are you doing this?” Anne asked after Sara had gone off to the dressing room to get ready for her first class at her new dance studio.

“Because she deserves it. She has the spirit of a dancer and she deserves to dance.”

“Yes, but why here?”

“Because I want her to have the best.”

“The dance studio in Winslow is excellent.”

“But not the best. You transcend the ordinary, Anne. You don’t just teach technique. You help your students find the dancer inside them, the artist.”

Startled by the man’s words, Anne blinked hard. He knew this about her. He knew that above all, she valued what was deep inside her students, not just their physical capabilities. Was that why he’d selected her as the subject of his photo shoot? She looked into his rich brown puppy dog eyes. He was still smiling. Why was he still smiling?

“Does this mean I get to help out backstage?” he asked her.

“Help out backstage?” Her entire body tensed at the thought of him standing beside her through rehearsals and performances, pulling curtains and pushing around props and cueing performers. “Uh, why would you even want to do that?”

Chris took a step toward her, relishing the obvious apprehension that he had apparently caused. “I enjoy it,” he said softly.

Now all he had to do was murmur three words and she was shivering and going weak in the knees at the same time. This was bad. “Uh, a big successful photographer like you enjoys helping out with amateur dance studio performances?”

“Brings back good memories,” he said as he took yet another step closer. That wasn’t entirely untrue. He did enjoy working backstage. Despite his father’s encouraging him to go out for football or basketball, he had preferred the arts. He’d played soccer in both high school and college, but that wasn’t glamorous enough for his father. And as far as his father was concerned, the arts were a waste of time—other than the social and business opportunities that offered to make him and his family look good. But as far as his children indulging in them? That was out of the question.

Chris remembered when he was fifteen, and he had made the mistake of announcing that he was planning to audition for the part of Tony in their high school production of “West Side Story.” His father had practically disowned him on the spot.

As determined as he was to stand up to his father, the laughter and ridicule his father had subjected him to at the dinner table that evening, in front of his grandparents, two cousins, and an aunt and uncle, had extinguished his desire to star in a musical production. As frustrating as it was not to be on the stage, he had offered his services as a stagehand. He had learned how to change sets and manipulate props without the audience even noticing, and he had learned how to run the lighting. Both skills helped him develop an interest in seeing things from a variety of perspectives. And much to his father’s chagrin, he had also learned how to work a camera. He supposed he should thank his father for contributing to his passion . . . and his career.

Anne tilted her head to the side as if that would help her read his thoughts. He’d drifted away for a while. Where had he gone? “What memories would those be?” she asked.

“Good memories,” he said evasively. “Childhood memories.”

The way he said it made her want to grab him and curl up by a fire somewhere and listen to his soft raspy voice telling her stories of his childhood all night long. Or maybe just part of the night. The rest would be reserved for other activities.

The way she was staring into his eyes told him that she wanted to hear about those memories. She was definitely interested in more than his photographic prowess. “Another time,” he said with the hope that their time for talk would come . . . as well as their time for other things.

She wasn’t moving. She was still staring as if waiting for him to tell her about his youth. It wasn’t until he nodded toward the room filled with expectant students that she seemed to realize that it was time for her first dance class.

She trotted over to the CD player and scooped up the remote.

“Are you okay?” Linda, one of her dance instructors, asked.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re blushing.”

Anne felt her face. “No, I’m not.”

Linda smirked. “Yes, you are. In fact, you’ve been doing a lot of blushing lately, actually any time that hot photographer of yours comes into the room.”

Anne glared at her. “You’re fired.”

Linda laughed and gestured for a group of students to follow her to one of the smaller rooms for their class. 

Three hours and two classes later, Anne was surprised that Chris had stuck around. He wasn’t taking pictures. He was just watching. He could have gone to the pub for a beer or the café for a cup of coffee while he waited for Sara, but he had stayed. She was also surprised that Sara was such a passionate dancer. She’d taken the first contemporary dance class that was the perfect level for her and had learned the routines and exercises quickly. And when it was over, she had asked Anne if she could try the more advanced class that followed. Anne had let her, although expecting her to tire out or become discouraged, but the girl had stuck with it with stamina and determination. She was beginning to understand why her uncle was so supportive of her dancing.

And Chris had watched both classes much as a dedicated parent would do. Anne found herself wondering what Sara’s parents were like and if they were as devoted to their daughter as her uncle was.

“What’s next?” Sara asked Anne when the second class ended.

“Nutcracker rehearsal,” Anne told her.

“Can I watch?”

“Absolutely. And maybe you can come to your next class a little early and I’ll start to teach you one of the dances. If it’s okay with your uncle.”

Sara jumped up and down and twirled around and ran across the room to Chris who was helping set up a row of chairs to differentiate backstage from onstage as he’d seen Anne do at the beginning of each rehearsal.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked him after Sara had asked if they could stay.

“Helping.” He had placed the chairs exactly where she would have.

He was serious about working with her backstage. There was not a lot of space backstage. “Uh, why don’t you take some more pictures of the dancers?”

“I have plenty of shots of each student—except Sara, of course. But I’ll wait and get some once she learns her dance. And then I’ll take some more at the dress rehearsal when they’re all in costume, but right now I think it’s time for me to learn what needs to be done backstage. Is there a curtain?”

“You mean is Canden Valley a little hick town or do we actually have a real stage with a curtain and lights and a sound system?”

He chuckled. “Pretty much.”

“Well, be prepared to be impressed.”

“Okay then.”

“So, what can you do?”

“Just about anything.”

Mischief danced in her eyes. “Hair and makeup?”

“Maybe not everything.” He considered volunteering for lighting, but that would put him in a booth far away from her. “I’m excellent with props, and I’m good at cues. I can help the kids get lined up in the right order and give them their entrance cues.” His first choice, considering that it would put him side by side with her.

“That’s what I do.”

“Well, wouldn’t you like to let someone help you so you can relax a little and enjoy the show?”

“I can’t.”

“Maybe if you have someone you can trust to do what you do, you can.”

She shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Maybe not, but it will be good to have a backup person to make sure you don’t miss any cues.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She was always so busy with cues that she missed what was happening on stage. The only problem was, she’d never trusted anyone else with that except her Cousin Kelly, but she needed her on the opposite side of the stage. “You’re really good at it?”

“I am.”

“You’ve had experience?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, then, I’ll let you try it.”

Perfect, Chris thought. He’d be working alongside her. Now he just had to learn the dances well enough so he could convince her that he’d actually done this before. Props, yes, lighting, yes, sound system, yes, curtain, yes. Cues, never.

For the next two hours, Chris studied Anne’s every movement. Not a difficult thing to do. Actually it was pretty much his favorite thing to do. But this time he was memorizing the sequence of dances and the dancers’ entrances. One more rehearsal and he figured he’d have it down. His greatest challenge was keeping his eyes on the performers and not being distracted by the director.

“Do you have to stand so close to me?” Anne whirled around and scowled at him.

He quickly shifted his focus and stepped back. “Uh, sorry. I’m just trying to learn as much as I can.”

“I thought you said you know how to do this,” she accused.

“Every show is different.”

True, but still— Why did he have to stand so damned close to her? The constant brushing of shoulders was enough to do her in, but when she felt his eyes burning a hole right through her, she thought she was going to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. “It would be better if you watched the dancers instead of me.”

“Right,” he said, quickly turning his attention to the dancing mice. From that point on, he tried his best not to stand so close to her or to stare at her, but it was a struggle. 

A text message vibrated his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and read it. Kendall, inviting him to a gallery opening. Just friends, she insisted, apparently having taken the hint from his last response to her inquiry. Before he could put away his cell, a second text appeared. This one from Joe. “Haven’t heard from you. Should I assume the worst?”

“Nope. Congratulations are in order,” he typed into his cell. “I’m standing a couple feet from her as we speak, helping out backstage with her students’ performance.”

A response came back immediately. “Still pathetic, but congratulations.”

He swallowed a chuckle and turned his attention back to his assigned job.

“Well?” Anne asked him once she’d dismissed the dancers who headed for the dressing room to gather their gear. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re amazing,” slipped past his censorship button. He quickly self-corrected, or at least shifted his focus from his personal assessment of her. “You’re not just an incredible dancer and teacher, but an excellent director.”

“Thanks,” she said, bewildered yet again by the man’s admiration of her abilities, yet, despite the obvious chemistry between them, his reluctance to show any affection for her. “So, you think you’re ready to take over?”

Did that mean she was handing him the cueing reins? And that she wouldn’t be working beside him anymore? “If I take over, what will you be doing?”

“I’ll be out front, watching and directing.”

He tried to stifle his scowl, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“Isn’t that the point of your helping with cues?” she said.

Was she challenging him here? Testing his confidence in his abilities? “Of course,” he said, “And I’m happy to take over, but I thought we agreed it would be best if two of us handled cues to assure we don’t miss any.”

Anne cringed. Of course he was right, and that was more important than any discomfort she was feeling being around the man. Still— She could only handle so much. She looked up at the clock on the wall as if it would tell her what date it was. But she knew. Her Cousin Kelly wasn’t on winter break yet. “I think for the next few rehearsals, it would be good if you handled it yourself. That way you’ll be forced to learn the cues really well.”

“And after that?” He smiled, thinking she would be back by his side at that point.

“My Cousin Kelly will be on winter break and she’ll be helping me backstage. She can work with you. One of you on each side of the stage.”

Chris stifled a scowl. “I thought you didn’t trust anyone with cues.”

“Only when I’m there, but you convinced me otherwise.”

“Okay, but I think I need to watch you for at least one more rehearsal. Maybe two.”

“Fine,” Anne said, hoping her groan wasn’t too apparent. And that he wouldn’t stand so close to her. And that he wouldn’t look at her like that.

She felt her forehead tighten and thought about that for a minute. Exactly how was he looking at her? Like he was about to grab her and carry her off to his bed? Well, maybe not quite, but he was definitely looking at her as if he was not indifferent. If that was the case, maybe he was interested in her. So, why wasn’t he making a move? Why hadn’t he even asked her out for a cup of coffee?

All she could hope was that it wasn’t her overactive imagination convincing her that he was interested simply because she wanted him to be. Especially because she didn’t. She didn’t want him to want her. Well, okay, she did, but just hypothetically. She didn’t want him acting on it or anything, because that would mean she’d have to act on it too. And she was not about to get into a relationship with a man who made her knees quiver and her heart flutter.

Another exaggeration, she thought. Maybe he did make her knees quiver, but he didn’t do anything to her heart. Still, her hand eased upward to cover that space on her chest as if protecting it. Definitely no fluttering. Just an occasional cartwheel. No big deal. He wasn’t so scary after all. Adorable and sexy maybe, but that was just a physical attraction. She was safe. At least for the moment.