"No . . . no, no, wait!" With the shock of seeing Arabella dimming a fraction, her appearance started to make sense. "Don't tell me you're here to do the choreography for the reunion concert."
"I . . . am," she replied softly, then cleared her throat again. "Oliver hired me."
"He had no right to do that! I made it well known I didn't want you here," Grady said flatly. "I'm sorry for your inconvenience, but you need to go." He pointed to the black sedan that had to be hers sitting in the driveway.
" ‘Inconvenience'? I flew across the country, sublet my apartment. . . ." She shook her head. "No."
"But you didn't speak to me." He watched her swallow hard again and felt like an ass, but she must have known he wouldn't want her here, or he would have made the call to ask her himself. "This will never work, me and you." He pointed at himself and then back at her.
"I signed a binding contract."
"Oh really?" Grady folded his arms across his chest. "My name wasn't on it, so it's actually not legal. And I seem to remember you were under contract as Heartbeat's choreographer before, and that didn't stop you from bolting. We could have come after you for that back then, by the way." He'd actually considered it.
Arabella stood silently for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. "Okay, look . . . there's no denying that there's bad blood."
"Ya think?"
She took a deep breath and raised her palms. "But I am here to do a job. Period. We need to be professional and get to work." She gave him a level stare. "You know I'm the person to do this."
"You're the last person to do this."
"That's just stupid. I'm willing to put the past behind us and get the job done."
"You're willing?" Grady looked skyward and then back at her. "Wow, that's . . . that's just priceless."
"Ohmigod." Arabella's eyes widened, and for a moment Grady thought she was going to turn around and bolt back to her car, but she stood her ground. "Did you really just say that?"
"Seriously?" With his arms still crossed, Grady leaned against the doorframe and tried to act nonchalant despite his racing pulse. "You left me, Arabella. Refused to take my calls. I didn't even get a chance to explain."
"A naked girl in your dressing room was all the explanation I needed."
"Really, Arabella?" Grady pushed away from the doorframe. "I deserved more from you."
"I think that's my line."
Grady blew out a harsh laugh. "Wow. I have no words."
Arabella's hazel eyes appeared stormy. God, if she cried, he'd be lost. "What was I supposed to think?"
"You were supposed to trust me," he answered hotly.
"So you're going to stand there and tell me that you didn't sleep with her? Grady, you wore nothing but a damned towel and she had this . . . this grin on her face when I walked in. And you looked . . . guilty."
"I looked guilty. Wow." Grady ground his teeth together. Part of him wanted to shout that he was innocent and that he didn't have a damned clue how that groupie ended up in his bed. She was just there when he came out of the shower. Another part of him wanted to go back inside his house and slam the door in her face. She was wrong for believing the worst, no matter how bad the situation must have looked to her.
///
"And it sure didn't take you long to move on," she added.
"And you know this . . . how?"
She sliced a hand through the air. "Pictures . . . everywhere, TV, magazines."
"Right, the tabloids. Billy Bush. Reliable information," Grady said with a laugh, but her comment stung like a hard slap. He'd never moved on. "You have all the answers, don't you, Arabella?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't." She tiled her head to the side, causing her cinnamon hair to slide over her shoulder. Highlights glinted in the sunshine. He remembered her silky hair trailing over his body while she kissed him. . . . Don't. Go. There. His board shorts could only hide so much. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Forget it." Grady knew he had to stay strong. "You wouldn't take the time to listen to me then, when I needed you to. That damned ship has sailed."
Something flickered in her eyes, and her chest rose and fell as if she was trying to keep something inside. "Can you blame me? I didn't want to hear your hollow apologies when the evidence was lying there grinning at me. She gave me, like, this little finger wave. . . . God, I wanted to slap her." She shuddered.