Sway With Me(13)

Ryan’s face contorted and he inhaled loudly through his nose. He didn’t answer, but returned his glare to the wall.

Fine. He didn’t owe her an explanation. She’d obviously crossed some invisible boundary. She might as well get used to doing the neighborly act like he’d suggested and give herself the tour of the house.

She moved to leave, but his hand clamped down on her shoulder. Pivoting, she caught a brief flash of sadness in his eyes before his hand slid to her waist. His gaze smoldered as he focused on her lips and tugged her in closer. His warm breath caressed the shell of her ear, dampening her panties. His eyes sparkled with wicked intent, but at the same time, he smiled unnaturally tight.

She inhaled sharply and pressed her hand against her belly. Was he going to kiss her? That would be . . . bad. “What’s there?” she asked, pointing across the hallway to a closed door.

He flinched, his smile melting. “That? At one time, it was a ballroom. They threw a lot of parties,” he said, shrugging as if it were an everyday occurrence to have a ballroom in your house.



She stepped away, moved past him and threw open the door to the ballroom, banging it on the wall and causing the plaster to crumble.

Long and rectangular, with two walls covered by floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the room definitely possessed potential. On automatic pilot, she elongated her spine and glided into the room in a ballet walk. The mirrors were cracked and the light oak floor required sanding, but someday, she could use the space as her private dance studio.

Well, after she fixed up the leaks, floorboards, hinges, and cleaned the entire seven thousand square foot home. She sighed as she considered the amount of work needed just to bring the house into a livable condition.

But, fixed up, she could almost imagine this room would look like the same one she’d dreamed about on the bus to Detroit. The one where she’d danced with Ryan.

Her heart pounded so fast she felt lightheaded. How was it possible? All these years she’d thought her mother was crazy, but what if there was some truth behind her assertion they were Muses?

Staring at her fractured reflection in the glass, she slid her feet into fourth position and raised her right arm above her head and held her left arm in front of her. Swan Lake played in her head as she whipped her body around in Fouettés.

A quiet knock rapped on the door behind her.

Ryan leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. “Ready to go see the bedrooms?”

Ryan had met this woman only three hours ago and she was already burrowed deep below his skin. What was it about her that tempted him to share the darkest mistakes of his life? His heart had skipped two beats as Portia spun around on one leg with the grace and beauty of a bird taking flight.



    Right now, he wanted to peel back every layer and bare her naked. With the stripping of her jacket, he’d discovered the first layer hidden beneath the woman she presented to the world. Now in a peach camisole, a blush spread from her cheeks all the way down to her chest. How far did that blush go? His hands clenched and unclenched as he fought the temptation to yank down her flimsy top to discover.

“I think we should go get our things so we can get back before ten.” Bending at the knees, she made figure eights with her right foot. “I can’t believe the Trust required we be in the house by ten. I didn’t even have a curfew as a teenager.”

Portia appeared to dance whenever she grew uncomfortable. And he didn’t want to stop to consider why that made him hotter than a three-alarm fire in August.

Still blushing, she slipped between the doorframe and him, accidentally brushing her silk-covered breasts against his naked forearms. He bit his tongue to keep from making a noise which would give away how aroused she made him. Her sweet vanilla scent lingered even after she’d left the room and he inhaled, savoring it, suddenly craving an ice cream sundae.

Not gonna happen.

He followed a few lengths behind, admiring both her lithe dancer’s body and the manner in which she remained positive in spite of all the work which lay ahead of them. The women he normally associated with would never stay in a house in this condition, regardless of its size and value. They’d whine and call a service to take care of everything. Portia hadn’t complained once.

He’d wanted her since the moment he laid eyes on her, and so far, she hadn’t done a single thing to change that fact. But she was right—it would be a terrible idea for the two of them to get involved.



They strolled through the house, returning to the foyer. The sun filtered through the hole where the door had been, drawing attention to the copious amount of dust in the house. He sighed and shook his head, wondering once again what the hell his uncle had been thinking when he’d drawn up his Will and Trust.