Page 28 of Dancing on Air

“Is that what you want?” he asked, “Because I can assure you, it’s not what I want.” He glanced down at her lips. “What I want is to kiss you again. This time my way.”

Her eyes darted to his and her breath hitched.

“Tell me to go to hell,” he said and when she didn’t, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers before taking what he wanted.

When his hands started moving over her, she tensed and stepped away from him. He dropped his hands to his side and watched her eyes dart around as if looking for some excuse to bolt.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. He should apologize but he didn’t want to. What he wanted to do was kiss her again.

“I’d better go.” She walked over and picked up her bag. “I have class in the morning.”

“Right.” He swallowed the lust he was feeling for her and walked her to the door. “I can get you a car?”

“No.” She waved her phone, then took a moment and ordered a car. “Done.” She tucked her phone in her pocket. “Thanks for… sharing with me.” He nodded. She turned and opened his door but stopped. “I don’t expect you to treat me different.”

“Different?” he asked, not understanding.

“After.” She motioned with her head.

His eyebrows shot up. “Kissing you has nothing to do with our work relationship,” he assured her, and saw her relax. “Nor does the fact that I want to do it again and will think about it each time I see you.” He touched her arm slightly. “I want you. I know that whatever happens between us will not”—he shook his head—“cannot affect our professional relationship.”

She licked her lips and he watched the slow movement, feeling his desire for her jump again. Then she nodded.

“Goodnight.” She turned and walked down the hallway.

The following morning, he woke to his cell phone ringing.

Rolling over, he groaned when he noticed his father’s number on the screen. He knew better than to avoid the call for too long but figured he had enough time to grab a cup of coffee before answering.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully when he answered his father’s third call.

“What’s this we hear about you working on your own project?” his father asked without even greeting him.

“Wow, it took longer than I thought it would to get to you. At least I had a whole week.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“This ends now,” his father replied.

Max knew better than to egg his old man on. Sarcasm rolled off his father like water on a duck.

“No, I think I’ll keep working on it. Both dancers are happy to oblige. Besides, we’re doing it after scheduled practice hours on our own time,” he said smoothly.

“I don’t care.” His father’s voice rose slightly. “I won’t have you pushing the talent too much. This is Cora Thomas’s first headline for the BAC. We need her head in the game and can’t afford to have her worn out each day for practice.”

“She’s perfectly capable of an extra hour each day,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Both of them are.”

“It ends. I mean it. There will be no more time wasted on this at the BAC.” His father’s voice turned low and Max knew there would be no further conversation on the subject.

After hanging up, he felt like punching something. He changed into his gym clothes and headed down the hallway to his private gym to punch the boxing bag for a few hours.

A little over two hours later, he wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced down at his cell phone again.

He’d worked out most of the anger his father had caused. Seeing a new message from Cora had him smiling.

“I received word from your parents that you aren’t going to ‘bother’ me any more with the after-hour practices. I just want you to know, it was never a bother and if this isn’t your doing, I’d really like to continue working on your project in secret.”

He thought about his reply and decided to shower first. He was due at the BAC theater in an hour and felt the need to respond before then.

He typed and then retyped his response and ended up just sending.