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“What’s good? Not water, I need something thicker. Anything with honey?”

“The lemonade,” I say automatically, hoping my voice sounds even. Alex nods, pouring himself a drink, then downing it with large gulps. Even the movement of his throat as the liquid travels down is sexy. He sets the glass down with a plunk.

“What’s your stance on headstands?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“I need to show them how to do a headstand. I’d like for you to volunteer.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m wearing a dress, and I really like my neck intact.”

“Your dress is tight, it won’t move much. And it’s not dangerous. All you have to do is plant your palms firmly on the ground, I’ll do the rest—hold your ankles, sustain your waist. The kids want to see it, but I don’t want to demonstrate it with one of them. They tend to get overexcited and stop paying attention to the instructions. Don’t want them to get hurt.”

He pins me with those gorgeous green eyes of his. They look a little brighter in real life. Well, when he puts it like that, how can I say no? And true, my dress is tight.

“Do you promise I won’t break my neck?”

He tilts his head forward and winks. “Of course, Summer.”

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I nod, before wordlessly following him to the center of the room.

“Summer here has volunteered to help me with the headstand.”

The next few minutes are not pleasant. I pull my hair into a bun using the elastic band that one of the girls gives me, then plant my palms firmly on the ground. Alex asks me to kick my feet up, which I do, and then he cuffs my ankles, lifting my legs up until I’m a perfect vertical line. He holds me so securely that I don’t even have to rest much of my weight on my palms, but it’s still not comfortable to be upside down, to feel the blood rush to my head. After a few seconds though, I become accustomed to this new sensation. Which is when I become acutely aware of his hands on me. He’s now cuffing both ankles in one hand, and the contact burns me, a delicious, sensual burn. Alexander Westbrook is touching my bare skin. And yes, I’m aware that I’m referring to him by using his full first name and his last name, but I feel like the situation requires it.

With his free hand, he points to my calf, explaining something about which muscles have to be activated to maintain a headstand without any help.

When he brushes his fingertips along my right calf, my entire skin breaks out in goose bumps. Not only on my legs, but also on my arms and chest. The kids are far enough away that they can’t see this detail, but I’m 100 percent sure Alex sees them. When he places my feet back on the ground, helping me up, I avert my gaze, embarrassed. How can my body react so strongly to such a simple touch? Well, he is Alexander Westbrook.

“You’re an excellent assistant, Summer.” He pats my arm, which is when the second wave of goose bumps erupts all over me. Holy Pop-Tarts and cupcakes! I risk a glance at him and find him flicking his gaze from my lips to where he’s touching my arm.

“You’re a good teacher. I didn’t feel unsafe at all.”

After the performance, I take refuge near the drinks table again, watching him. Over the n

ext hour, our gazes cross repeatedly, and he holds mine with merciless intensity. I’m the one who breaks eye contact every time.

It’s late in the evening by the time we bid the kids goodbye.

“That was great,” I comment as we make our way to the car.

“They looked like they were having fun. How is St. Anne’s financed? Public money?”

“Nah, all private donations.”

He nods. “Can you send me their information? I want to make a donation. I’ll add the ring to it too.”

“Great idea. Turning that into something positive.”

“Uh-uh.”

“You don’t want to talk about it, I get it. I won’t prod, I promise.”

“Amy and I can’t talk about it, other than the obligatory ‘we grew apart.’ Literally. Our contract forbids it.”

“Wow, that must suck. Talking is one of my top coping mechanisms. Just putting it out there, but whatever you say tonight won’t get out. Just in case you want to get something off your chest.”

He’s silent for a beat and looks away. “She fell in love with someone else. The way she says it, she didn’t start anything with him until after she broke up with me, but I flew to LA two days after our breakup conversation, and there he was already.”

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