Jazz Hands
The Studio Collection #3
By E.M. Denning
Publisher: PGP
Liquid Gold
Genre: Erotic Romance
Content Warning: 18+
Katrina Hoffman
can dance, but doesn’t. She hasn’t in years. But something is missing from her
life right now, and she decides that one trip around the dance floor can’t
hurt. When her first time on a dance floor in years thrusts her into the arms
of a man who is practically her boss, Katrina’s pulse starts to race. At the
office, Eugene is stern, dressed in suits and all business. Here, he’s relaxed
and smiling, and the feel of his body against hers sends her head spinning.
Eugene has
carried a torch for Katrina since the first day she waltzed into work. He
wanted her before, but now that he’s felt her skin against his, her hands on
his body, he needs to have her.
But when he
does, will his confession send her running, or is the commitment-phobic dancer
ready for something more?
Katrina’s six inch stilettos clicked on the
floor as she entered the studio with her bag slung over her shoulder. Walking
into a place filled with so much music and life and laughter reminded her of
the years she spent in her grandma’s dance studio back home.
Katrina followed the sound of brass and
swing, and slid into the room. She took a seat on one of the benches that lined
the wall and bent to slide her stilettos off. She tucked them in her bag and
dug out a pair of ice blue ballet flats. After tucking her bag under the bench,
she glanced around. Next week, she’d have to try to show up a little early.
Maybe she could partner with the tall, dark and dreamy man who was chatting up
a leggy redhead.
“He’s unavailable.”
Katrina’s head whipped around to see an
equally tall and almost as handsome man staring down at her. Her lip curled
into a sneer.
“What are you doing here, Hoffman?”
She tried not to check him out, but it was
nearly impossible. She was so used to seeing him in suits and dress shirts, the
sight of him in a tight fitting T-shirt made her heart race. Wide shoulders.
Narrow waist. She wondered if he was hiding a killer set of abs under that
shirt. As fast as the thought entered her head, she pushed it away. She could
not crush on him. Eugene worked in the same division at the ad agency, and
through some stroke of luck, he’d landed the promotion she’d been lobbying for.
He was practically her boss.
Eugene stuffed his hands in his pockets and
rocked back on his heels. “I’ve been coming here for a couple of years now.”
His gaze lingered on her curves almost too long.
Katrina crossed her arms over her chest. She
suddenly regretted the pale blue dress with the plunging neckline. “Of course
you have.”
“You know, Kat, the beginner class is down
the hall.”
Katrina raised an eyebrow. “I can dance
circles around you in your sleep, Hoffman.”
“Then why haven’t you been here before?”
Katrina pursed her lips, uncrossed her arms
and smoothed her dress. Before she got a chance to dodge his question, the
instructor came in. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and the way his
clothes fit him made it look like they were painted on.
He clapped his hands twice and a hush fell
over the room. “Grab your partners.” He hop-stepped across the room and hit the
music.
“Come on,” Eugene said as he grabbed
Katrina’s hand.
Katrina yanked her hand out of his as if it
were on fire. “No. Uh-uh. I’m not dancing with you.” Katrina crossed her arms
in front of herself and looked around the room for someone else, anyone else,
she could partner with.
Eugene held out his hand. “I’m your only
hope, Katrina.”
She sighed and dropped her hand into his.
“Ugh. Fine.”
“Well, you don’t have to sound so
enthusiastic.” Eugene shot her a smile and pulled her closer to him. “Try not
to step on my toes.”
Katrina took a step back and sneered, but
when Eugene’s hand closed on hers, when he grinned and started to dance, she
was swept up in his enthusiasm. He moved so well, so fast, yet every step was
perfectly placed. She felt herself relax and start to enjoy being reeled in by
Eugene only to pull away again. That was the beauty of jazz dancing; it was
fast and fun, and she enjoyed improvising.
Katrina wasn’t the only one who liked
improvising. Eugene reeled her in with a sharp tug. He used her momentum to
launch her over his head. She slid down his back, and he grabbed her hands when
she slid between his legs and pulled her to her feet.
Katrina paused and shot him a look of
surprise. “If your mission was to impress me, Eugene, it certainly worked.”
Eugene reeled her in closer, his only
response was the smirk on his lips and the mischievous gleam in his eye.
When the hour was up, Katrina found herself
reluctant to leave. She sat on the bench and dug her shoes out of her bag to
change back into them. She glanced up at Eugene, who stood there looking
deliciously nonchalant with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Do you come here
every week?”
“Why? Are you hoping for a repeat next
Friday?”
She saw a hint of a smile on his lips and
imagined her tongue running along the curve of his lower lip. “There are worse
ways to spend an evening.” Katrina stood up. With her heels on she was only a
couple of inches shorter than Eugene, the perfect kissing height. He could
sweep her into his arms and pull her into a mind-blowing kiss. The arm around
her waist would hold her there leaving his other hand free to slide up her back
or to get tangled in her hair.
“Are you? Because if you are I could
definitely see myself coming back.”
Katrina stuffed her flats into her bag and
slung it over her shoulder. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see. Enjoy
your weekend, Eugene.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Katrina strode out of the studio and into the
parking lot. She had to get out of there before she could act on any of her
ridiculous impulses.
“What kind of a name is Eugene, anyway?” She
said to herself as she pulled out of the parking lot. She tried talking herself
out of her attraction to him. He’s not that good-looking, she tried to tell
herself. But he was. His sandy hair had a slight wave to it and she could
imagine her fingers raking through it. He’d always looked good in a suit, but
nothing had prepared her for how he looked in that tight T-shirt.
When she got home there was a message on her
answering machine from Ally-cat, wanting to know how her first lesson went. She
erased the message and decided to call her friend back tomorrow. Allison had
known her long enough to know that she didn’t need lessons and she’d known
Allison long enough to know that wasn’t the question she was really asking.
Katrina popped open a bottle of wine and
poured herself a glass. She brought it to her lips and took a generous swallow.
She set the glass on the counter and grabbed her phone off the counter and
dialled her brother’s number. He wouldn’t be home for hours and he was the
first person she wanted to tell. He was the only person who could really
understand.
As predicted, her call was sent to voicemail.
“Hey Scotty.” She paused, took a breath to steady herself, then continued. “I
went dancing tonight. I went to a jazz dance drop in at this studio a friend of
Allison’s recommended, and I did it. Talk to you soon, love you, brat.” She
ended the call and returned the phone to the cradle. She grabbed her drink and
drained the rest of it in a couple large swallows.
Kevin promised his sister to walk her down the aisle at her wedding. This wouldn’t be so bad, but she’s also making him dance with her. There’s only one problem—Kevin can’t dance.
Determined to have the perfect day, Kevin’s sister signs him up for dancing lessons. His instructor, Ginger, thinks he bit off more than he could chew and offers him some private instruction after class. As his sister’s wedding approaches and his lessons come to an end, he soon learns the benefit of following Ginger’s lead.
Allison Elliot was too short to be a ballerina—according to the studio that turned her away. Determined to pursue her childhood dream of learning ballet, she signs up for lessons at a different studio and quickly catches the attention of her instructor.
Josh Owen is more than happy to be her teacher, and maybe more if she’d let him, but she doesn’t seem to notice his advances. Is she oblivious to the obvious chemistry between them, or is something more going on? When Allison threatens to drop his class, Josh urges her to reconsider. Will she stay, or will she give up on two dreams—ballet and love?
E. M. Denning is
a writer from British Columbia. She loves her family and her animals and
anything cute and fuzzy. She was born a hopeless romantic and when she’s not
writing romance, she’s probably reading it. She loves love.
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