Before I Do Amazon (11 page)

"That will work. If we could do it at your hotel, we could try out the floor for Monday's classes."

"I'll see you there."

She hesitated, knowing she should just get out of the car and go into her apartment, but she still felt a little unsettled by all the emotions of the last thirty minutes. "Nick—I just want to say one thing."

"What's that?"

"That was a really good kiss."

He smiled. "I thought so, too. Goodnight, Isabella. Sweet dreams."

She had a feeling her dreams would be more sexy than sweet, and a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed man was going to be the star.

Chapter Nine

While her dreams were delicious, Sunday brought Isabella back to reality. She spent the morning at the studio talking to contractors, reading estimates, and reworking the class schedule for the next week.

She had no idea where her aunt was. Rhea had left a message on her phone around ten that she'd stop by in the late afternoon, but so far Isabella had not seen her. That worried her. Rhea had never been a secretive person, and the fact that she was being a cagey about where she was and what she was doing made Isabella uneasy.

Was Rhea going to sell the studio as is? Was all her hard work going to be for nothing if a new buyer stepped in with his or her own plans?

She really needed to speak to her aunt. Nick had offered to help her buy the studio, and while that seemed like an enormous favor to her, maybe for him it was not even close to a big deal. When she saw him later, she'd have to ask him exactly what he had in mind.

She didn't really want to tie herself that closely to him or put herself in a position to owe him more than she could pay, but she really did want to save the studio. She was starting to feel a little desperate about it. If the studio went away, where would she go?

She didn't have another plan. Ever since she'd been injured and her theater career had ended, the studio had been her safe haven. It was the next chapter in her career. While she could probably work for someone else and/or maybe eventually open a studio somewhere else, she couldn't imagine losing this particular dance space. It would be like losing a limb. She had so many memories in this place from the time she was a little girl until now.

Saying goodbye seemed unthinkable.

She looked up from the computer as Ricardo walked through the front door. He wore dark jeans and a gray knit shirt, his black hair damp from a probably recent shower. He looked tired, but there was also an odd light in his eyes.

"I didn't think you were coming here today," she said.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I hope it's about how to get this studio fixed in record time?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I have some interesting news. I just got off the phone with Hal Tyler."

Her stomach tightened at the mention of her former producer. "Why would you be talking to Hal?"

"Hal and Donna are opening a new show in San Francisco at the end of August. It's a musical. James Bennett is directing. Malcolm Hodges is the choreographer."

A wave of nausea ran through her. She had a feeling she knew what Ricardo was about to say.

"They want us both to audition," he continued. "Donna said she was planning to call you. She was just waiting for their funding to finalize, and now it has."

Isabella immediately started shaking her head. "No, I'm a teacher now. I have classes to worry about. All these problems at the studio have to be dealt with. I can't audition. I don't want to audition. That isn't my life anymore."

Ricardo's lips drew into a tight line. "Isabella. Your aunt is going to sell the studio. You know that."

"Maybe I'll buy it."

"With what?"

"With Nicholas Hunter's money. He told me he might be interested in investing."

"Seriously? Why would he do that?"

"It would be an investment for him?"

"The king of hotels wants to invest in a dance studio? Just how close have you two gotten?"

"It's not like that. I'm helping him secure a business deal. In return, he wants to help me."

"Okay. Let's put that aside for the moment. This is your chance to get back on the stage, Isabella. The Tylers love you. They feel terrible that you were injured on their production."

"My accident shut down their show."

"Their poor set construction shut down the show. And that was also Carter's fault. He was taking shortcuts that they didn't know about." Ricardo paused, giving her a serious look. "There aren't many second chances in life, Isabella. You need to take this one."

"I'm not as good as I was. I haven't been dancing."

"You dance alone at night. I see you in the studio after classes."

"That's just for me."

"Just think about it. Don't say no. This is too big of an opportunity to dismiss out of hand. You have to give it thought."

She didn't want to think about going back to that life, because there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to be the star she'd once dreamed about being. But there was another part of her that wanted to stay where it was safe, where she wouldn't fall—literally or metaphorically.

"What are you two talking about?" Rhea asked, interrupting their conversation.

Isabella was startled to see her aunt. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You two were engrossed in conversation. What's going on?" Her curious gaze moved from Isabella to Ricardo. "Anyone want to share?"

"The Tylers are opening a new musical in San Francisco in a couple of months," Ricardo replied. "They want Isabella to audition, and I think she should."

Isabella sent Ricardo a killer look, but he didn't bat an eye. He obviously wanted Rhea on his side, and there was no doubt that her aunt would be there.

"That's amazing, Isabella," Rhea said. "Their musicals are always fantastic."

"I'm done with that part of my life. I want to teach. I want to run a studio. I don't need to perform any more. And I'm not good enough. I couldn't be what I was."

Rhea frowned. "You've completely healed from that injury, Isabella. Maybe you would need to put in some long hours, but you could get yourself back in shape. This actually comes at a good time. The repairs will be very expensive, Isabella. I've talked to my buyer, and she's willing to buy the studio as is for a lower price. I'm meeting with my accountant tomorrow to run the numbers. I don't think I can keep throwing good money after bad. This place has been a wonderful home for all of us, but sometimes you have to move on."

"I think I can buy the studio, too," she said. "I have someone willing to invest. Can you at least give me a few days to see if I can pull that together?"

"Who would want to invest in this place?"

"Nicholas Hunter. The man I'm giving tango lessons to."

"Seriously? Why?"

"Does it matter?" she countered, seeing the same confused look on her aunt's face as she'd seen on Ricardo's.

"I think it does. The man has already agreed to give you a ballroom to run our classes in for the next few weeks. Now he wants to buy the studio? What are you giving him in exchange for all this good will? I know it's more than dance lessons."

She saw the worried gleam in her aunt's eyes. "It's not
that
," she said sharply.

"Then what?"

"Nick needs me to go to Argentina with him and dance the tango for some business investor. It's part of a deal he's trying to make. I told him that would be difficult for me because of my family history. But apparently this deal is going to be worth millions if not billions of dollars, and he's willing to throw in some things to make me more willing to go with him."

Rhea's jaw dropped in shock. "You're seriously thinking of going back to Argentina? Have you spoken to your mother about that?"

"No, I haven't. I'm an adult, and this is going to be a quick trip, two to three days at the most. I'm not planning to see my father."

"Your father hurt you and your mother. I don't think you should see him. He's not going to magically turn into a better person. He's still going to be the man who abandoned you. I hate to be blunt, but we both know that's true."

"But I don't know why he abandoned me. Mom doesn’t ever want to talk about him, and you've never been forthcoming on the subject, either."

"It's your mom's story to tell—if she wants to tell it. You should talk to her."

"I plan on doing that, but I'm still going to make my own decision."

"I understand," Rhea said, not sounding too happy about it.

"Good, now getting back to the studio, can you give me a week?"

"I'll think about it. I don't want to lose the offer I have. But I will talk to you before I make a final decision. I'm going to get some papers out of the office," Rhea said, vanishing down the hall.

Isabella glanced over at Ricardo. "I know you think I'm making a mistake."

"I think you're afraid," he said. "If you want to buy the studio, and you've found someone to give you the money, great. But you should still speak to the Tylers. Find out all your options, then make a decision. Otherwise, you're just running scared."

"I'm not scared. I know what I want."

"Then there's no danger in meeting with the Tylers. Tell them no to their faces. They gave you your first break on Broadway. Don't you owe them that?"

She let out a sigh as Ricardo's final point hammered home. Being loyal was one of her biggest faults. "I'll think about it."

Ricardo nodded with approval. "Good. But after you think about it—go down to the theater where they're holding auditions this week. Walk onto that stage and look into those lights and then tell me you don't want that anymore. Only then will I really believe you."

* * *

Isabella was still thinking about Ricardo's words when she went to the Grand View Towers Hotel a little before eight on Sunday night. In fact, she couldn't think about anything else, especially since she'd also gotten a long text on her phone from Donna Tyler expressing interest in having in their new show. She hadn't replied yet, because she didn't know what to say.

She'd really thought she was done with the stage, with performing, with chasing the Broadway dreams that had driven her life, but if she were going to consider going back, dancing for the Tylers would be the perfect scenario.

But even if she wanted to make another run at a starring role, could she do it? She'd definitely lost some of her muscle tone in the last year. She didn't work out the way she used to. She'd be winded in three minutes.

Frowning at that thought, she walked into the empty ballroom and told herself to focus on the present. Classes were starting in the morning and this was her new studio.

Nick's staff had done a great job. The hardwood floor was shined and polished. Mirrors had been set up all around the room, and two ballet barres had been installed along three of the walls. There was even a stereo system set up with speakers hung in the four corners of the room. It was perfect.

The door opened and Nick strode in. She liked the energy in his step. He didn't walk like he was going to the executioner as he'd done the first time he'd showed up for a lesson.

He'd finally put on some denim, but his dark gray jeans and maroon-colored shirt were probably as expensive as a three-piece suit. She couldn't help wondering if he ever wore ripped jeans or a sweatshirt. Maybe she just wanted him to look a little less attractive, less appealing, but that probably wouldn't happen even if he put on sweat pants and a wrinkled T-shirt. Nick had a masculine presence that would always draw a woman's eye.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Will the room work?"

"It's perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

"Are you ready to dance?" She had a lot of things she wanted to talk to Nick about, but she also wanted to respect his lesson time. She'd agreed to teach him the tango. That had to come first.

He grimaced at her question. "I doubt I'll ever be ready, but let's get started. The sound system is set up for plug and play."

"I see that. Let's go over some of the steps first, then we'll put on the music."

"I thought you wanted me to concentrate more on the music than the steps," Nick countered.

"I'm changing it up a little. You have a very organized and practical mind, and I don't think you'll truly be able to relax and enjoy the music until you feel confident in your steps. So let's begin." She held out her hands to him.

As his fingers closed around hers, she had to fight back a little sigh of pleasure and concentrate on what she'd come here to do.

Twenty minutes later, Nick was able to put several combinations of steps together, so she turned on the music. The first few minutes were once again a disaster, mostly because Nick was rushing to be good, she realized. He didn't give himself time to learn. He wanted to be perfect as fast as possible. But he wasn't perfect, which led to frustration. She could see it in every tight determined line in his face.

She stopped the music. "This isn't a fight, Nick. There are no winners."

"Not true, Isabella. I dance this damned dance, and I win. I fall on my face, and I lose."

"I won't let you fall," she promised.

"I wish I could say the same. Your feet have already taken a beating."

"My feet are tough, and you won't drop me. I'm not at all worried about that."

"You should be."

"No." She shook her head and took both of his hands in hers as she gazed into his eyes. "When you hold me, I feel your strength. I know I can count on you. I want you to really lead this time. Take me where you want me to go."

Desire flashed through his eyes at her words, and she shivered. She was playing with fire, but Nick needed fire and passion. He was afraid to let it out, but if he didn't, he wouldn't succeed the way he wanted to.

"Okay," he said. "Let's do it again."

She turned on the music and moved back into his arms. "It's all you, Nick. I trust you."

"I'm going to try not to let you down."

"One-two-three," she began, and then Nick took the lead as she'd asked him to do. He still stumbled and hesitated every now and then, but she didn't try to take over. She let him continue and eventually he got better. By the time the dance was over, she didn't know who was more surprised—Nick or herself.