“When the song ends everyone will stop dancing and return to doing whatever they were before, as if nothing happened. You can leave then. That’s it. It’s the easiest five grand you’ll ever make.”
The taxi stopped at a light, and Willa felt foolish for making such a big deal out of it. Lexi had walked her through the choreography and the moves. It would be easy enough to fall into step with those around her. Clay’s client wouldn’t know if she took a wrong step as long as she flowed with them. I can do this. “I appreciate the work you put into this, Lexi. I may not sound grateful, but I am.”
“I know, Willa. And, seriously, I would have canceled if I didn’t think you could do this.”
“You’re making dinner tonight.”
“I can’t. I’m working late. But I’ll do the grocery shopping this week. How’s that?”
“Deal,” Willa said. The taxi pulled up to a spot outside a tall glass building that had a grass courtyard, an unusual luxury in an otherwise stale background of buildings. Willa paid the driver then did her best to get out of the car gracefully, not an easy feat, considering her outfit. She studied the people in the area. Outside of the number of people gathered, there was no hint they didn’t belong there. Anyone walking by would have thought a conference or meeting had just released its participants for lunch. Their professional attire made Willa feel even more out of place. If the dancers were already there, they blended in well. Unlike me.
Willa felt the gaze of several men follow her as she approached the building. She was used to a certain amount of male attention, but she felt exposed. How does Lexi live like this? As she walked toward the building, she wished Lexi were there to draw the attention away from her.
She caught her shoulders hunching forward in response to her natural shyness and forced herself to straighten them. I’m Lexi—at least for the next fifteen minutes.
There was no sign of Clay, and for a moment Willa worried she might have given the driver the wrong address. She was getting ready to ask the woman closest to her if she knew Clay Landon when a black sedan pulled up in front of the building. She’d met him a couple of times through Kenzi but only briefly. The more nervous she became the less she could remember what he looked like. A tall blond man stepped out of a limo and looked around. He was attractive in a European chic kind of way. Although he was dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, he had an aura of someone at the top of the one percent. He smiled when he saw her and nodded.
Willa wobbled on her high heels when she recognized the man who got out of the car next. No. No. No.
He’s Clay’s friend? Surely Lexi hadn’t known who would be here.
There was only one man Willa would not dance for, one man who had hurt her deeply enough that she’d protected her heart ever since.
Lance Barrington.
Willa took a step back and the movement caught Lance’s attention. He cocked his head to one side and raised a hand in greeting to her. Willa retreated another step. Clay urged Lance forward.
“You’re going the wrong way,” a man whispered to her. The way he said it made Willa certain he was with the dance company.
Willa didn’t care. Her impromptu plan was to get as far away from there as quickly as she could. “No, I’m not.”
There was a buzz of hushed talking around her until she backed into a woman who didn’t move. She smiled at Willa as if she were apologizing for being in her way, but her voice was a cold challenge. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving,” Willa said honestly, apologetically.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t hire a cameraman so you could flake out at the last minute. You’re the cue for us to start. You can either walk over there as planned or pay the videographer yourself. Your choice. My dancers will also need to be compensated. We signed a contract.”
Willa swallowed hard. She barely had the rent money for next month. She couldn’t pay anyone’s salary. She looked back at Lance and mild panic set in. Both he and Clay were walking toward her.
Next to Clay, Lance looked rough around the edges. Two athletic builds, but Lance was the rugby player and Clay more of the golf type. Why couldn’t Lance have gotten a potbelly and gone bald with time? Why did he have to get better looking every time Willa saw him? Just as it had when she was younger, her body warmed with a craving only he could feed.
Why does just looking at him excite me more than any other man’s touch ever has?
He came to a stop in front of her, a puzzled look of concern on his face. “Willa?”
His question flamed an old anger within her, and on impulse she said, “Lexi.”