Chapter 11
Kaisa
Once inside his enormous, gorgeously warm suite decorated in muted jewel tones and top-of-the-line furnishings, we get to work. I try not to think about the fact that I’m in his hotel room. The place where he sleeps and showers.
Okay, I have to snap out of this. But every time I promise myself that I’ll stop thinking about him in those ways, I remember our kiss. Our barely there kiss that was over too quickly.
We go through the dance a few times because he needs to practice before I teach him the lift. In the midst of the rolling, smooth Cuban motion of the dance, we bump heads twice and then I accidentally slap him in the face.
“You slapped me!” he says, covering his nose and cheek with his hand.
“Dance is a full-contact sport. Besides, you weren’t in the right place, Ledger.”
He shoots out a breath and rubs his cheek. “Noted.”
I step to him and cup his cheek. “I am sorry about hitting you. Even though you weren’t in position,” I add teasingly.
Our eyes meet. We’re out of breath because this isn’t an easy routine. He lifts his hand to draw a lazy circle on my wrist, his gaze never leaving mine.
I shiver at his touch.
But we’re in his hotel room trying to cram. This isn’t the time or place. I can’t fall for my partner again.
I drop my hand from his cheek. “Any questions?” I swallow hard. “About the choreography?”
Now, he’s giving a deer in the headlights look. “What about the lift?”
“You ready?”
He frowns. “I have to be, don’t I?”
I study him, enjoying the lines of his broad shoulders and taut waist. “If I weren’t so swamped with getting the Showdown all put together, I could go to San Antonio with you, and we could work on things there.”
He smiles. “That could be fun.”
“But I can’t. There’s too much to do here.”
“Aren’t there other pro dancers you could delegate things to?”
I cock my head. “Yes, but I can’t do that when it’s my neck on the line.”
“Why is the Showdown so important? You act like it’s the TV show.” He shrugs. “It’s not.”
“Wynn put me in charge of this. The show’s always shaking things up and sometimes dancers don’t get invited back. None of us have gotten our contracts yet, and I got voted off early both of the previous seasons, so I…I don’t know. I’m nervous.”
“So, pulling this off will increase your chances of staying on the show?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“It’s going to be great. I’ll try not to look like a dancing bear in a circus and it’s going to end up amazing.”
I give a blip of a smile. “Thanks.”
The truth is, I know I should delegate more. I just need to let go of some of the control, I guess. I wasn’t even supposed to be partnering with an athlete, so everything feels so last minute. Tenuous and frenzied.
“Okay, are you ready to see what the lift looks like?” I pick up my phone from the bed—yes there’s a huge bed in this room. I’m in a hotel room with a very handsome man and we have our hands all over each other.
This is nuts.
I go on YouTube and pull up one of the routines I did in season one.
“Okay, so this isn’t the same, but it’s sort of like it. Just pay attention to the guy and you’ll get the gist of it.”
Ledger’s eyes roam across the small screen. “But I don’t want to pay attention to him. I want to look at you.”
Why does my stomach flutter at those words?
“Look.” I point to Kale’s shoulders. “See how he approaches the lift? He brings his arms back and bends his knees and then, bam, I’m in the air.”
“How did you do that?” Ledger stares at me on the screen as I’m in the lift, the shimmery silver tinsel of my dress floating down as gravity takes over.
“Years of practice. But we don’t have years, which is why we’re doing a modified version.”
“But I want to do that with you.”
“Ledger, no.”
“Why not? I’m way stronger than this guy, whatever his name is. Admit it. I’m way stronger.”
He’s totally right. “Okay, yes. You are. But it’s not about brute strength. It’s about timing and developing the right muscles to do the lifts. His name is Kale, by the way.”
He gazes at me, backtracks the video to the lift again and watches it once more. “Kale Hobbs, huh?” His voice is on edge, just slightly, but that tone is there. “What’s the deal with him?”
“Nothing. We were partners for the first season of the show.”
He gazes at me and hands my phone back to me. “I sense a story here.”
I check the clock, ignoring the whole “story” comment. “It’s past ten. Let’s go over the dance a few times before we try the lift.”
We dance the whole thing from the top and reach the end with few mistakes.
“That’s good,” I tell him.
His brows go in the air. “I don’t think so.”
“No. It is,” I insist. “When you get back, we’ll just have to clean it up.”
His hands go to his waist. “Is ‘clean it up’ code for fixing everything about my technique?”
My lips twitch as I cue the music again. “Maybe.” At his groan, I counter. “I’m just teasing, Ledger. I’m proud of you.”
There’s a mirror in his room and we’re both standing in front of the bed, facing the dresser that holds up the mirror. There’s not a lot of lighting, so the combined effect—of the lower lighting, the sexy music, and us staring at each other in the mirror—causes a chilled slick down my neck.
I spin around and away from the portrait of us. “We’ll learn the lift in a few minutes. Let’s start again from the top. I need your body to have some working muscle memory for when you get back.”
He laughs. “You just said you need my body.”
“You’re an impossible flirt, Ledger Bishop.” I swing my arms and legs back and forth to stay warm, turning away from him.
I could give into the flirting. It would be so easy—and delightful—to respond in kind. But I’ve been down that road and my career took a costly hit.
His expression sobers. “Kaisa? Can I ask you a question?” He steps towards me and all I can think about is that brief, sweet kiss from earlier. “What if I forget the whole thing while I’m gone?”
I shake my head. “That’s impossible. Not going to happen.”
His gaze darts around the room. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“You know how I forbade you to practice?”
“Oh, I remember.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, here’s something you can do. You can listen to the music over and over again and imagine the dance in your mind.” My eyes, on their own volition, skate to his lips. “Go through each step and imagine you’re doing it in your body. Don’t imagine watching yourself—”
“—Because that’s a terrifying thought.”
I click my tongue to chide him for saying that, but I can’t tell him how I’m starting to feel when I’m watching him dance. It’s true that he’s not a natural born dancer, but he’s improving and I like the way his body moves. More and more, his hip rotations are mind-numbingly hot.
“But imagine you’re in your body doing it,” I say. “Do that over and over again and you’ll be ready.”
He nods and suddenly he’s standing so near me. We’re in his room, this huge bed sticking out like a sore thumb. And he is a gorgeous man.
He tugs me to him and whispers in my ear. “I want to lift you in the air so bad.”
My voice is softer than I intend it to be “Well, here goes nothing, then.”