Page 23 of Take the Lead
She rushed home to take a shower—a cold shower—and maybe change into something sexier.
Stone maneuvered his way through the crowd at Club Picante toward the VIP section in the back. The dark club was lit red and purple, and crammed with people dancing in the space between a stage and the long, shiny bar. The blasting air conditioner did nothing to dispel the scents of sweat, liquor, and cologne. Loud music vibrated up through his feet. He received a number of appreciative stares, but the crowd parted and Gina was there, leaning against a high table. She spotted him and raised her hand in a wave.
Everyone else fell away. Stone wasn’t stupid enough to convince himself that he was drawn to her because she was the only face he recognized. It was just because she was her.
It wasn’t smart to be here, but after a week of dancing around each other—literally—he wanted to see Gina away from the cameras. So far, he’d only gotten contradictory glimpses—polished Gina in Alaska, teacher Gina in rehearsals, and superstar Gina at the promo shoot. Sometimes warm and flirty, sometimes cool and professional. Maybe tonight he’d finally get to know the woman behind the dancer.
When he approached her table, she scooted over to make room for him and lifted her cheek for a kiss, as she always did. Under the “nightclub smell” permeating the air, her signature scent teased his senses. He was closer to deciphering it—something flowery, with a hint of earthy spice, plus ginger from the candies she liked to eat during rehearsals. She’d put on light makeup, let her hair down, and changed into a red dress that hugged her body and drew his eye down her toned curves.
Her hand snaked into the crook of his arm and exerted slight pressure, indicating he should lean down. On her other side, a pretty woman with heavy-lidded eyes and a red-lipped smirk leaned her elbows on the table.
Gina raised her voice over the pulsing music. “Stone, this is my roommate, Natasha Díaz. She’s also onThe Dance Off,but she’s been rehearsing at one of the other studio spaces.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, ingrained manners feeling both out of place and necessary in this loud, obnoxious setting.
“My pleasure.” Natasha sent him a slinky, feline smile. She was taller than Gina by a few inches, with a lean ballet dancer’s build and tawny brown skin. Her eyes cut to Gina’s. “I’m going to get a drink.”
Natasha sauntered away, leaving them alone.
Alone, aside from the hundreds of other people in the club. Still, this was the first time they were together without producers or cameras.
Gina looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Don’t be nervous.”
His gut tightened. “I’m not.”
“You are. I can tell.” She rubbed his lower back, something she’d taken to doing in the last few days when she thought he needed soothing. If anything, it set him more on edge, her casual touch stoking the flames of desire.
Fuck. This had been a mistake. He should have stayed at the hotel and hit the gym, instead of coming to this club with the misguided notion that he needed to make friends, or that he could get to know Gina better without wanting her more.
It would never work. There was no point in even trying.
Her hand dropped away. “Oh, look. Natasha found room for us at the bar.”
Sure enough, Natasha was waving them over with one hand, her other arm draped over the backs of a couple of seats.
Kevin Ray stood at the bar next to Natasha, easily recognizable with his light brown hair and pale skin freckled by the California sun. According to Gina, Kevin had won more times than anyone else inThe Dance Off’s history, and his pictures were displayed all over the rehearsal studio’s halls.
Stone gestured at Kevin’s tumbler of amber liquid. “What’re you having?”
“This?” Kevin raised his glass. “Lagavulin.”
“Good enough.” Stone indicated to the bartender he’d take what Kevin was having.
“Wouldn’t have thought a guy from Bumfuck, Alaska, would drink scotch.”
Stone tried for an easy smile. How would Reed respond? “I get into town occasionally. Not much else to do in winter but get drunk.”
A petite woman slipped between them. It was Lori, the dancer who’d invited him to the club. Behind her was a guy who greeted them with a wide smile.
Gina made the introductions. “This is Lori, whom you’ve met, and her partner, Jackson García.”
Stone ducked his head and lowered his voice so only Gina would hear. “The one who’s supposedly younger than I am, but not as fit?”
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a snort. Her eyes gleamed with mirth. “That’s the one.”
Stone sipped his drink, rolling the strong, smoky flavor over his tongue. He glanced back down at Gina’s empty hands. “Are you having a drink?”
A quick, silent exchange passed between Gina and Natasha.
