A Slow-Burning Dance Page 3

  ****

  Damien could barely keep his eyes off Sela as they walked across the city toward the Music Pavilion. Why hadn’t he asked her out six years ago? Because she looked like she was still in high school! That was true, but she didn’t look like that now. This woman was stunning, but it wasn’t only her looks that captivated him. He’d asked her how long she’d wanted to own a dance studio and why, and she hadn’t stopped talking since.

  She had more passion and conviction in her than most of his employees put together. She and Santino shared that trait, but Sela was far more animated than her brother. Damien’s face hurt from smiling and laughing as he listened to her describe everything from her first recital, to how she’d chosen the name for the studio.

  Canción de la Danza meant “dance song” in English, and Sela explained that was what it felt like in her heart when she danced. Like she was singing a song with her body. When she described her first dance lesson at age three, and how she hadn’t felt any of the trepidation toward such a pursuit that children of that age usually do, he nodded several times in complete understanding.

  “I was four when I built my first project out of twigs, dried mud, and sod I’d lifted from our front yard. It was a housing development with several streets and a post office.”

  Sela’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. Damien loved her laugh. It reminded him of the sound of warm rain on a summer afternoon hitting the terra cotta tiles on the roof. “Were your parents upset that you’d ripped up the grass?”

  “Oh, yeah. Until my father stood there and counted the buildings I’d constructed. Then he picked me up, gave me a big hug, and asked me if I wanted to come to work with him the next day.”

  “Is yours a family business?”

  “Not exactly. He was a project manager for a construction firm, but never owned his own company. It was my dream to do that when I saw how damn hard he worked, but never got any of the glory when things went right.”

  She nodded. “That went to the architects and the owners, right?”

  He was impressed. “How did you know?”

  “It’s the same in dance. When a show gets rave reviews, they praise the choreography, not the dancers. They write about the lush sets or the music, but rarely do they single out individual dancers unless they thought one did a terrible job. Then your name is splashed all over the Internet.”

  He’d never considered that other fields experienced the same skewed points of view when it came to acknowledging someone had done a great job. “You must be thrilled to have your dream so close to reality.”

  “I really am, but I’m nervous, too. A lot of my students can’t afford the price increase in lessons that I need to charge so I can make a profit.”

  “What will you do with them?”

  She shrugged. “Keep them on, of course. I’m not going to drop students whose dream it is to dance because of money. I’ll simply have to work harder and bring in new clients.”

  “What about a partner? Is there another instructor who could teach there with you, or buy into part of the business?”

  “No one I’d trust that much. I have auditions lined up next week for part-time instructors, but right now I’ll be leading most of the classes myself. Any instructors I hire won’t be employees. Instead, they’ll contract to use the space in exchange for a small percentage of their class fee.”

  “That’s a solid idea, but also a lot of work to take on the bulk of classes yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  Her answer had an edgy tone, so Damien stopped walking and turned to face her. “I have no doubt of that. You’re a dedicated, passionate person, just like your brother. I only meant that starting a business isn’t a solitary endeavor. You need to surround yourself with people who you can trust, and to whom you can delegate.”

  She smiled, and he was grateful for that. He didn’t want to upset her again before they reached their destination. They continued walking as she answered him. “Santino said the exact same thing. I always did have a tendency to want to do it all myself.”

  “A Latina woman grows up having to prove herself in her family. That’s been true for a long time, and unfortunately it still is. We have certain expectations for our women, but when they want to excel in a different or nontraditional way, we get all macho on them.”

  She laughed again, and now his damn dick was rock hard. “That is so true.”

  “When my sister announced she wanted to drive a dump truck, my parents laughed. Then they told her she would marry and give them grandchildren, so she wouldn’t have time to drive a truck.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a sister.”

  He swallowed hard as memories assaulted his senses. “She passed away in one of the floods.”

  The look of sympathy in her beautiful eyes made him want to pull her close and hold her for hours. The hell with the concert.

  “Santino never told me.”

  “He doesn’t know. I haven’t said much to him about my family because I know he lost his. I never wanted to bring up painful memories for him, but I had a similar experience. Out of my entire family, only two cousins survived long enough to get underground, and they both work for me now. One is my marketing manager, and the other runs my public relations department.”

  “I’m so sorry you went through the same thing Santino and I did.”

  “I’m so grateful I hired your brother. He’s helping each of us find these bastards so we can nail them.”

  “He talks about that a lot.” Her eyes grew wide for a second. “I guess I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “I’m sure you’re careful with what he tells you.”

  “I would never say a word to anyone. I swear it.”

  Damien was sure Santino had spilled more than a few secrets to his sister. “Give me an example of what he’s told you.”

  “He talks about how much you all do to find the people responsible for this.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  She gave him a sheepish look. “He told me about the secret teams. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I swear to you I will.”

  “It’s important that information never becomes public.”

  “I know. I understand why not. You can’t catch them if they know how you’re trying to find them. You have my word that I’ll never say anything.”

  “Thank you.” Damien knew how close Santino was to his sister, but he also could see she meant what she’d said. She would keep quiet about the teams.

  “He’s also very excited about the new shelters your company is building.”

  “We’re excited about them, too.” His company had recently redesigned the original above ground shelters that were built along with the underground cities. The company that Ace’s father owned had built both the original shelters and the cities after the nuclear war scare of 2072. The new shelters would be larger, stronger, and better equipped for communication between those living above ground and below. “The Storm Troopers really need them.”

  “Will they be used by anyone else?”

  “Not right now.” Addison Carlyle’s teams wanted new shelters to use as well, but Damien had thought it was more important the Storm Troopers have them first. “We designed them for the specific needs of the Storm Troopers. If they turn out as well as we hope, we’ll build new ones for the teams who go above ground to retrieve items, but that’s not a priority.”

  She smiled. “Santino said some of your friends think it is.”

  “He’s right, but since I’m the one who is building them, they don’t have much say-so.”

  “I heard you obtained the financing from Kane Bannerman’s company. Is that true?”

  “Not exactly. Bannerman Investments came up with some very creative ways for us to raise money for the project, but part of the cost came from my company profits.”

  She glanced up at him through thick lashes and gave him another sheepish grin. “I just realized how many inside deals w
e’ve talked about. Santino’s not in trouble, is he?”

  “Your brother will never be in trouble with me.”

  The pavilion was in sight, and he could already smell the food and hear the pre-recorded music blasting from speakers on the outside of the building.

  She laughed softly, and when Damien took her hand, she gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for trusting him so much. He thinks the world of you.”

  “I feel the same way toward him.” Holding her hand was like finding manna in the desert, but now he was so damn horny he could barely walk. He had to keep a check on his emotions tonight because the urge to kiss her was strong. He had to let her set the pace tonight, even if that meant he went home with a raging hard-on and had blue balls by morning.

  ****

  Sela hadn’t tasted fried plantains since she’d lived above ground. “These are crazy good.”

  “The food here is amazing. Sometimes I come here just to eat, even if I don’t have tickets for a concert.”

  “I don’t blame you.” If it wasn’t also crazy expensive, she’d do the same thing. She took a sip of her frozen daiquiri. “I haven’t had one of these either since before moving underground.”

  “Not too many places still take the time to make them.”

  “All this food … where did they find it?”

  He smiled, and the gesture sent shivers down her spine. What would it be like to see that sexy smile as she gazed into his face while they make love? “The oceans are still teeming with life, but it’s dangerous to go to the surface, take a boat out, and try to catch anything.”

  “Is that part of what Addison Carlyle’s teams do?”

  “They do whatever they’re paid to do, whether the client wants mussels, or something that might still be left in the Louvre.”

  “Surely some of them die going up there.”

  “Some do. That’s why Addison wants new shelters for them as well, but he’s missing the bigger picture. Unless they can get to a shelter in time, the best constructed ones we can build won’t save them. We lose Storm Troopers all the time, and we know that building them new shelters won’t keep that from happening. However, it will give them more shelters, and ones designed to sustain them longer and more safely while inside.”

  “But at some point they still have to leave them and chase the next storm.”

  He nodded. “That’s true.”

  “Have you gone up to the surface since moving here?”

  He shook his head. “No, and I have no plans to. I’ll leave that to the people who enjoy such pursuits.”

  “What pursuits do you enjoy? I mean aside from building things?”

  He popped another mussel into his mouth and chewed it slowly. Sela was fascinated watching him do so. The way his jaw moved, and the look of bliss that came over his face as the juices tickled his taste buds was like watching someone in the throes of an orgasm. Not that she could fault him. The mussels really were delicious.

  “I enjoy great music, good food, and the company of a beautiful woman. Not necessarily in that order, but preferably at the same time.”

  She squirmed in her seat as she took a long sip of her drink and then tasted the curry once more. There was something incredibly sensuous about enjoying a great meal with a handsome man who wasn’t afraid to show how much he loved the food and drink. This man had a passion for life, as did she, and she was drawn to people like that.

  Chapter Four

  Damien smiled each time Sela glanced around their box seat, over the railing at the people seated below, or to either side to admire the view beyond the Pavilion. The warm-up band was playing, but he doubted she heard them. She was too busy shaking her head, her beautiful dark eyes filled with awe. Each compliment she gave the venue was followed by yet another “thank you” to him, until he was ready to beg her to stop doing it.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her gratitude, but she simply didn’t understand that he was the one who should be on his knees, thanking her for coming along tonight. Once La Concepción came out onto the stage, the noise inside the Pavilion was deafening, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was on her feet, cheering with everyone else. Damien stayed seated so he could watch her lovely ass move under her dress.

  It was impossible not to stand and sway, however, once the music started. His dick grew rock hard again as he watched Sela shake her hips and dance. Now he could see why she had the dream of opening a studio, and why she had such a passion for dance. She had a keen sense of natural rhythm, which didn’t surprise him, but he also doubted she realized how damn seductive she looked dancing. She was born to do it, and was very gifted.

  As for the music, he’d always loved the sound of guitars, claves, bongos, and a marímbula. This was one of his favorite bands because it was the music of his childhood. It fed his soul, reminding him of happier times before the world turned dark and threatening.

  When Sela said something about the claves sounding like they were traditional ones made of wood, not plastic like so many were today, he grinned. “I have an antique pair at home made from rosewood.”

  She shook her head and pointed toward her ear, indicating she hadn’t heard him, so he leaned closer. The smell of her shampoo filled his senses, and he tamped down an urge to kiss her, right then and there.

  He repeated what he’d just said, and her eyes grew wide. “I’d love to see them.”

  He nodded, thinking he’d like to show her more than his collection of antique musical instruments. Would that actually happen, or would he go back home tonight with his desires unmet? The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her, but he was only a man. This woman brought out the beast in him, and he wanted her.

  The heavy beat of the bongos filled Damien’s head, evoking yet more images of life on the surface and the emotions that went with the memories. It was impossible not to dance when he heard music like this.

  A quick glance over the railing told him everyone else in the amphitheater felt the same way, so without over-thinking it, he took Sela’s hand. There wasn’t much room in their private box, but it was enough to lead her in a salsa. She put him to shame with her easy, sultry grace, but the delighted smile on her face told him he had nothing to fear. She was an instructor, after all. No doubt she was used to dancers far less skilled.

  At least she was smiling. Thank goodness for that. Everyone in the Pavilion was dancing in the aisles below and on the grass off to both sides. Damien was sure he’d come in his pants as Sela threw back her head and let out a cry of sheer joy. She was so happy, and so fucking sexy with all that dark, curly hair whipping around her face.

  They danced for nearly an hour, and when the band finally slowed things down and people took their seats again, a fine sheen of sweat covered their faces. Sela grasped Damien’s hands, her eyes filled with joy. “Thank you so much for this.”

  This time, he laughed. “Do you have any idea how many times you’ve thanked me this evening?”

  “No. Tell me.” Her grin told him she was only teasing.

  “At least twenty.”

  “Then I’ll say it one more time. Thank you.”

  He didn’t dwell on what her reaction might be. He merely lifted one hand to his lips and kissed the back of it before he lost his nerve. Sela’s grin faded, but she wasn’t angry. Far from it. She looked ready to jump him, right there in their seats. It was all he could do to keep from begging her to fuck him. They stared into each other’s eyes for long, luscious moments until Damien couldn’t take one more second. “Sela … I…” Shit. How could he ask this without sounding like the worst philanderer she’d ever met?

  “You don’t have to say it.”

  What?

  “I feel the same way, Damien. All I want to do right now is kiss you, but if I do, I’ll wish we were someplace private because I very much doubt I’d be comfortable making love to you here, in view of all these people.”

  Damien blinked several times, convinced he’d just hallucinated. When Se
la leaned close to him he didn’t hesitate. He let go of her hands, cupped her face, and kissed her like he might never do it again.

  ****

  Sela didn’t know if it was the music, the way he’d danced with her, or everything about this evening, but she wanted to do a lot more than kiss him. The words had slipped out before she’d had a chance to clamp down her filters, but she didn’t care. They were true, and had been spoken from the heart. Her mother had once told her that such words should never be regretted because they were the most sincere words one could possibly speak.

  The man could kiss. His lips and tongue moved over hers as if they’d been made to do it on her mouth, and her mouth alone. She’d never been kissed like this. The same passion she’d glimpsed in him all evening was evident in the way he held her face and kissed her. What would it be like to make love to him?

  The band had stopped, and she vaguely heard something about an intermission. The spell was broken, and Damien released her mouth. He gazed into her eyes with uncertainty, and that in turn sent doubt creeping into her consciousness like something sinister and dark. What the hell was she doing? She barely knew this man.

  “Sela, I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “For losing control like that.”

  “Damien, I kissed you back. It’s not like you forced yourself on me.”

  “We barely know each other.”

  She had to avert her gaze so he wouldn’t see the truth in her eyes. Was he a mind reader? Sela glanced below at the crowd streaming out of their seats toward the concession stand. “I was caught up in the moment as well. Please don’t apologize.”

  He placed a finger under her chin and gently turned her face toward him. “There is nothing I want to do more than make love to you.” Dios mío! She wanted the same thing! “But the very last thing I want to do is disrespect you, or lead you to believe this was all a set up so I could get you into bed.”

  What if I want to be in your bed? “I don’t think that at all.”