A Slow-Burning Dance Read Online Free Page B

wonderful idea.”
    She
needed to get a grip on her hormones. She had no intentions of having sex with
this man tonight, despite the erotic dreams that had haunted her sleep. Sela Chavez
was not going to be splashed all over the tabloids with her brother’s boss, no
matter how fucking hot he was.
    ****
    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