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“Honey, you’re far from a cripple.”
She glared. Of course she wasn’t a cripple, but she wasn’t able to do everything she used to be able to do either, and for a dancer that was pretty close.
Darren sighed. “Just keep it in mind, Soph. I’m going to lock up. The dinner Wayne made is probably cold by now.”
Sophie laughed. “Noted. Must be nice, having a man cook for you. I think I’m going to do some stretches before I head home.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Darren headed for reception to lock the front doors, Sophie stood and crossed to the ballet bar. Gripping it in both small hands, she began some slow stretches, focusing on loosening up the tightness in her knee joint. With some difficulty, she lifted her leg onto the bar and bent over it, stretching her hamstring.
She heard the front door open and paused, listening for the sound of Darren’s voice. There was a low, polite sounding murmur—Darren greeting the walk-in—and then a deeper reply. Though she couldn’t hear her assistant’s words, she detected a note of awe and apology in his tone. The other voice, low and smoky, became more urgent. The sound seemed to settle against her skin like cashmere, luxurious and tantalizing.
Sophie lowered her leg and made her way carefully toward reception. Who could that voice belong to?
Chapter Two
The man talking to Darren looked like someone used to getting his way. He was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His hair was jet black, stylishly cut and thrown back from his wide forehead in beautiful waves. It framed a face that belonged on a bust in the classical wing of a museum, with its wide jaw, full, chiseled lips and a long nose with the slightest bump in the middle. In the last afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, his olive skin seemed burnished with an inner glow.
More than his appearance though, it was his demeanor that set Sophie’s heart beating quicker. His movements were slow and confident, those of a man who knew his place and his effect on others. He stood with his shoulders back but still fluid, not like a soldier so much as an athlete. A dancer, maybe. Sophie’s eyes travelled up from his expensive leather shoes to his tasteful grey slacks, cut slim to accentuate his long legs and perfectly shaped ass, and from there to his black button down shirt, unbuttoned near the top to show his impressive chest. Definitely not something he wore to work. Definitely sexy.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Darren said, “but the studio is closed for the night.”
The man’s heavy black brows rose a fraction of an inch, and he inclined his head slightly. “I don’t mind. I’ll wait.”
“But there’s nothing to wait for.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Sophie stood in the doorway between the front classroom and reception, heart doing its own set of ochos in her chest. Her skin prickled all over with heat in a way it hadn’t in a long time, since Christian, maybe. But this man wasn’t like Christian. Christian had been handsome the way a model was handsome. He looked great, but the real thing was about as good as a picture. This man’s confidence seemed to indicate that he could make money without relying on his looks, although he was definitely gorgeous.
He looked at his watch, an impressive silver piece that looked expensive. Sophie guessed it was an Omega. She watched the way his shirt slid over his chest as he moved his arm back down to his side. It fit his impressive physique snugly. She wanted to run her hands over it, though she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of the look of the fabric, or the man. What did this gorgeous stranger want with her little dance studio?
“There was a woman teaching the last class. Blonde hair in a ponytail. I would like to speak with her,” the stranger said.
Darren gave a soft sigh. “Ms. Becker has gone home for the—”
Whatever this man wanted, he really wanted it, and it was worth finding out what it was. Sophie decided to step in before this dark stranger physically moved Darren aside. “That’s okay, Darren,” she cut in. “You can lock up. We’ll be fine here.”
Darren’s blond brows rose sharply. He cut a look at the man, eyeing his tall form, and then looked back to her. Sophie bit back a snort, amusement at her friend mixing with the attraction she held in her chest.
She gave him a slight nod. Darren studied her face a moment longer and then shrugged. She turned back to the stranger, surprised to find that he’d wandered into the classroom.
“Sophie,” Darren whispered. “You sure you don’t want me to wait?”
She shook her head. “Just arm the front door. I’ll take care of the rest.”
***
When she was sure Darren was gone, she followed the stranger back into the classroom. Darren had turned off half the bank of overhead lights when he’d exited earlier, leaving the room bathed in a dim glow. She watched the man as he stood in the center of the room, dark eyes scanning and cataloging everything.
Sophie took a deep breath, willing her frantic heart to calm. “What can I do for you, Mr...”
He spun on his heel, the move smooth and agile, until he faced her. “It is you. I knew it.”
Sophie’s head spun. She would know if she’d seen this man before. “I’m sorry? Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Buenos Aires.”
