The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance Page 2

  A place where people knew your name. A place to be involved and part of a family again, even if not a biological one. A place to belong.

  * * *

  Quinn couldn’t sleep. She paced back and forth in the small apartment above the dance studio. There were so many things for her to accomplish before the soft opening, might as well use the time efficiently. She tiptoed downstairs and used her key to unlock the dance studio’s back door. Shuffling to her office, she heard a rushing noise coming from the back hallway.

  She changed direction, and pushed open the bathroom door. Water shot from one of the faucets and flowed over the newly-installed tile counters. Water poured onto the floor.

  Shock shredded through her. She charged toward the unexpected fountain the size of Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. Taking off her bathrobe, she pressed the cloth on the source of the shooting leak. The material was soaked in seconds. She stomped her foot and water soaked her socks. Panic fluttered in her chest. She didn’t know what to do. If she let it go, the water would fill the tiled bathroom floors and seep into the main dance studio. The water would ruin the newly-smoothed and varnished floors.

  Her panicked thoughts flew to Reed O’Donnell. The angry man had avoided her all day, as if she had a virus. When she worked in the storage room, he worked in the studio. When she was straightening or decorating the studio, he worked in the bathroom or small kitchen. When they did run into each other in the small space he avoided her, barely acknowledging her existence.

  She knew he lived in the second apartment upstairs. She’d heard him clomping around earlier tonight, and wondered if he was alone. He’d know how to fix the plumbing. He was the only one who could help. After all, he was the landlord.

  Abandoning her soaking bathrobe, she darted up the shared staircase, slipping on her wet socks. Instead of going left to her apartment, she went right. She banged on his wooden door with her palm. “Wake up! Wake up!”

  Something fell to the ground. Another crash. And then, grumbling.

  The door ripped open and a furious Reed stood on the other side. His green eyes were sharp emeralds traveling the length of her body, causing a quivering sensation on her skin. His mouth curled in an ugly snarl, not a lustful smirk. “Do you know what time it is?”

  He wore only track shorts hanging halfway on his hips, as if they’d just been slipped on. As if he’d been naked until her knock on the door. Trembles traveled her body again. His wide waist led to a chiseled chest with a smattering of small, curly, dark hair. Her fingers itched to fondle the texture. Carved abs and pectorals showcased his extensive shoulders. Strong, thick arms hung at his sides.

  Licking her lips, she swallowed. Was there a woman in his bed? Her body heated at the thought. “Are you alone?”

  His dark eyebrows rose in an are-you-ridiculous arch. “Are you kidding me? That’s why you’re here?”

  “Of course not.” Her face flushed. He thought she wanted him. She’d never come knocking on his door in the middle of the night to ask for sex. Granted, he did have one incredible body.

  He scowled. “What do you want in that sexy-as-sin nightie?”

  She glanced at the silky peach camisole and short-shorts. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Spirals of warmth curled around her spine and she couldn’t respond.

  “Well?” His presence distracted.

  Finally, she remembered why she was there. Her pulse jumpstarted. “The studio bathroom is flooding.”

  Grabbing his cell phone, his expression went fully alert. “How bad?”

  “Bad.” The image punched in her stomach. “Come on.”

  She led the way down the stairs, trying to put his insinuation behind her, trying to forget the image of his half-naked body.

  “How did you discover the leak in the middle of the night?” His bare feet pounded behind her, one step louder than the other.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I went down to work.” He didn’t understand how important the success of her studio was to her. He probably thought she was a total loser.

  Quinn stopped at the entryway to the bathroom, while Reed pushed past her, slipping on the wet floor. He yanked her robe off the spraying faucet and tossed it to her. “I need my toolbox.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “It’s out back in the storage shed in the garage.” He scooted under the sink using abdominal muscles that appeared to be carved of rock. “I’ll turn off the water.”

  Hurrying outside in the cold mid-November air, she crossed the backyard and ran into the garage. Her hand flipped the light switch, and she perused the room searching for the storage area. The garage wasn’t part of her lease. Assuming he kept a car inside, she was surprised to see something covered by a large tarp. Maybe it was construction equipment, like one of those big sawblades.

  She didn’t have time to find out. She needed to find his toolbox and get back to the half-naked man lying under her sink. Her skin, which had cooled from the nighttime air, heated again. Her landlord was one sexy guy. So different from the male dancers she usually associated with. He was thick, firm muscle, while most dancers were thin, lanky muscles. Both strong, but oh, so different. And it hit her which kind of muscle she was most attracted to. Too bad her landlord hid his physique under a gruff exterior.

  Opening the storage area, she spotted the large metal toolbox and grabbed it off the shelf. She hurried to the studio, praying the new dance floor wouldn’t be ruined by water. She didn’t have the money to cover damages. She’d spent her savings and the money from the sale of her grandparents’ house to invest in this business.

  Sliding to a halt at the entrance of the bathroom, her heart went ba-boom.

  Reed lay on his back on the bathroom floor in the puddle. The upper half of his body was hidden. The lower half…

  Wow, wow, wow. She fanned herself, unable to stop inspecting him.

  His black track shorts were soaking wet, molding to his impressive bulge. His shorts had crept up, revealing muscular thighs. His calves were just as impressive. Even the long, jagged white scar on his right calf leading to his mottled and unevenly-shaped ankle made him rugged. As if he’d suffered and was tough enough to survive.

  Tingles spread over her skin, sparking desire. She hadn’t been attracted to a man in a long time, and never to someone so much larger than herself. The other men she’d dated were more on the slender side. She could imagine him carrying her across the dance floor and up the stairs to his apartment, ravishing her.

  “What the hell are you staring at?” The furious tone cut her fantasy, killing any desirous dreams.

  * * *

  Reed had scooted out from under the sink to find Quinn staring at him, staring at his grotesque leg and mangled foot. An angry flush started in his toes and crept up his body. He wasn’t a goddam model or a graceful dancer. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to stare at a person’s scars?”

  “What?” Her eyes were confused for a second, and then her cheeks reddened. “No. I wasn’t.”

  “Water’s off, and I found the source of the problem.” He sat up and snatched the toolbox. He didn’t want her watching him, assessing his damage. Lucky for him, she couldn’t see his scars on the inside. “I can handle the leak.”

  “You think you have an ugly foot?” She stripped the wet socks off her feet. “Look at my feet.” She wiggled her toes and his gaze followed, fascinated by the large calluses on delicate feet. “Ballet dancers have the ugliest feet. We put our feet through torture with the wooden tips in the toe shoes when we go en pointe.”

  He leaned back, surprised she had an ugly body part. Even more surprised she’d show him. He certainly didn’t go around displaying his scars. There were too many and they ran too deep.

  “What happened to you?”

  The innocent question shattered inside him. As if answering her question would be easy. He remembered the police interrogation and reporters’ questions. “Accident.”

  “I’m sorry.”
The trill of her voice sounded like a vibrato adding warmth to her tone.

  No. He wouldn’t think of music. He wouldn’t think of her. “While you were getting the toolbox, I called my brother to help. You can go to bed.”

  The word conjured images of him taking her to bed. Electrical charges arced between them giving him the urge to do exactly that. Laying in water wasn’t a smart thing with electricity hanging in the air.

  “I’ll help until your brother arrives.” She crouched down, exhibiting her muscular calves and thighs. Strong and flexible legs. “What do you need?”

  Her. His heart throbbed and he licked his lips. His cock stirred. Impossible. He hadn’t been attracted to anyone since the accident. That part of his body had shut down, and he wasn’t willing to turn it on again.

  “Wrench.” Scooting back under the sink, he held out his hand. He didn’t want her help or need her help. Except she was there, and he didn’t know how to get her to leave.

  Metal clattered upon metal, the noise reminding him of a percussion jam. She must be searching for the tool. Maybe she didn’t know what a wrench was. Then, he’d have no guilt at sending her back to her bed—apartment.

  Cold metal slapped into his palm. He pulled the tool in and realized it was the correct one. Darn.

  “How long have you been a handyman?” Another innocent question slashing in his lungs.

  The wrench slipped from his hand and hit his abs. “Remodel construction specialist and landlord.”

  The title was so different from his last position. Concert pianist and composer. Not that he wasn’t proud of how he’d pulled himself together and created a new career for himself. Something completely different from his old life. With his old job, he’d never be laying in a puddle of water in the middle of the night, unless it was a hot tub.

  He picked up the wrench and loosened the compression nut. “Slip joint pliers.”

  She slapped the correct tool in his hand.

  The woman knew her tools.

  Pointing the emergency flashlight he’d gotten from the storage closet, he focused the beam on the leak. What he needed was another hand. He should wait for his brother, but she was here and the sooner they got the job done the sooner he could be alone. “Can you give me a hand?”

  “A hand?”

  “Yeah, you know, the thing connected to your wrist.” Maybe it was a mistake to ask for help. “Never mind.”

  “No, I’ll help.” Her nightie swished, as if she moved between silk sheets. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to hold the flashlight, so I can see.” Sounding grumpy because he shouldn’t be thinking about her between the sheets, he scooted far to the left. There wasn’t much room under the sink.

  “I need to crawl under there?” Trepidation tripped in her tone.

  “If you don’t mind, Blonde-Swan.” The second the moniker slipped out, he regretted it. He didn’t know her well enough to give her a nickname.

  “Blonde-Swan?”

  “Just a nickname.” He should leave her alone, instead he pushed wanting to be done with this wet job. “You said you wanted to help.”

  “I do.” The sexy swishing got louder, closer.

  She lay on her back and scooted farther under the sink. The warmth from her body slid along his skin, sending tingles of attraction to his loins. Her long leg lay next to his damaged one. Perfection next to destruction. He was a grotesque monster next to her doll-like body.

  “What do you need me to do?” The soft lilt at the end of her question sent a shiver up his spine.

  “Point the light at this joint.” He handed her the flashlight and the beam swung around. He’d have to show her the joint. Reluctantly, he took her hand and guided it into position. Locked together, her delicate hand hid the scars on his. He didn’t appear so hideous.

  “Is this good?” Again, the sexy lilt playing to his lust.

  “That’s what she said.” His brother Dax chimed in, and pounded on the top of the sink. “Ba-dum-bum.”

  Fever flushed through Reed at his brother’s lame joke. He hadn’t heard his brother come in. He dropped the wrench again.

  The tool fell and smacked Quinn on the forehead.

  “Ouch.” She held her other hand at the spot.

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He stroked her forehead where the angry bruise formed. “Dax! What’re you doing messing around? I wanted your help, not a comedian.”

  “I’m fine.” Lifting her arm, she rubbed her forehead. Her upper arm smashed against her breasts, making them jiggle and pushing them higher in the low-cut camisole.

  His cock noticed, hardening into a bigger shaft. He tightened his muscles, trying to control the anger surging inside him. As well as other things. He didn’t want this attraction, and he certainly didn’t deserve a woman so beautiful. And he’d hurt her. “I’m sorry. My idiot brother surprised me.”

  “You asked me to come. What’s going on down there?” His brother peered under the sink. “Is this a new, kinky way to—”

  “Dax, dammit.” Reed shoved himself out from underneath the sink. Reaching back around, he held his hands out for Quinn. She placed her slim hands in his. Like a monster, his ugly, scarred hand swallowed her tiny one. The earlier image of her hand making his look better slipped away. He had too much ugliness to cover up.

  He helped Quinn out. “Thanks.”

  “You called me.” Dax took her elbows and helped her to her feet. A knight helping an injured princess being held captive by a monster. His sexy smirk enhanced his handsome face. “Who is this beautiful—” His gaze traveled the length of her body. “—and wet woman?”

  Reed stiffened and clenched his hands into fists. His little brother shouldn’t be ogling her. Not with her perky breasts sticking out of the soft silk material, not with the way the wet cloth clung to her slight curves and hugged her hips. He grabbed Quinn’s wet robe and held it in front, covering most of her. “Here.”

  Her relaxed, answering grin showed she wasn’t concerned with how much of her body was displayed. As a dancer, she was probably used to people staring at her. “I’m Quinn Petrov.”

  His brother’s charm was already working. Annoyance pulsed at Reed’s temples.

  Besides their green eyes, it was hard to tell Dax was his brother. Dax had longer, blond hair while Reed’s was dark and curly. Dax’s lanky and able body was the opposite of Reed’s thick trunk exterior and his limp. Dax’s fun attitude toward life contrasted with Reed’s darker views.

  “Bro, why didn’t you tell me about your new woman?” His brother gave an exaggerated wink, trying to embarrass Reed.

  If Dax stayed in town longer than his ski patrol shift, he’d know who Quinn was. “She’s not my woman.” He sounded grouchy and short, and he hated himself for it. This woman didn’t matter to him. Not what skimpy clothes she wore, or who she dated. “She’s my tenant.”

  “Interesting.” His brother’s eyebrows rose and lowered in a more-than-interested action.

  “I should get changed.” Quinn’s soft smile had his insides twisting. “Nice meeting you, Dax.”

  “I’ll be seeing you around.” The suggestiveness said more than his words.

  The twisting inside Reed’s gut pulled tighter, watching Quinn’s wet backside sway out of the bathroom. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from the mesmerizing move.

  “Getting out of bed was worth it for the view.” His brother’s face took on a wolfish expression. “I want to be a landlord, if I can have hot tenants like her.”

  “Stick to blowing avalanches up.” He wanted to blow up. At his brother, at Quinn, at the situation. He never should’ve called Dax. “Help me finish fixing the leak.”

  Dax crouched down by the sink and picked up the flashlight. “So what’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing.” Reed climbed back under the sink, with a caulk gun in hand.

  Why would his brother think he’d have anything going on with a woman as beautiful as Quinn? He hadn�
�t dated anyone since his fiancée. He only socialized with his family, rarely talked to anyone else except his construction clients.

  “It’s the middle of the night.” Using a suggestive tone, his brother pointed the light at the pipe connection. “You’re dressed in only shorts. She’s in a sexy nightie.”

  He strangled the caulk gun like he wanted to strangle his brother. “Shut up, Dax. Nothing is going on between Quinn and I.”

  Dax wiggled his eyebrows. “Then, you won’t mind if I ask her out.”

  Chapter Two

  Quinn didn’t see Reed until late the next afternoon. First thing in the morning, she’d checked the bathroom, and the mess had been cleaned up. While she’d worked in the studio, deciding on posters and scheduling classes, he never came by. When she’d returned from lunch, the tools and equipment left lying in the bathroom were gone. He was avoiding her.

  The empty spot in her chest grew. Her goal was to meet people, and so far, Reed was her only contact with the rest of the town.

  Using the remote for the stereo system, she turned music on and twirled across the newly-finished and undamaged floors. The smoothness grazed her bare toes, reminding her of the grandest of stages. Reed put a lot of effort into making the floors perfect. She appreciated the perfection.

  Losing herself, she twirled from the mirrored wall to the windows on the far side and back. Her enthusiasm bubbled. It felt good to dance again. Without pressure and without admonishments. In her head, she vaguely heard the corrections from her mother, the ballet teachers, and the ballet director. Now, she was free to ignore the voices, and dance with inner joy.

  Twirling, she plowed into a hard wall that hadn’t been there earlier.

  “Uff.” A hard masculine wall.

  Surprise tangoed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see—”

  Reed.

  He stood solid as a brick. His muscular arms wrapped around her, making her feel protected. A new feeling, a nice feeling. Through his ripped T-shirt, she felt the carved muscles of his chest, and the width of his shoulders, and her entire body tingled.