Finally, Beckham leaned in closer to her. “Whatever I’ve done to piss you off, I’m sorry. I’d like to start over, if that’s okay with you. We’re gonna be working together closely, and if you’re not good with me … it will show.”
Again, the silence.
She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.
“I’ll never be good with you.” She tried not to inhale his scent as she got closer. His breath smelled like cinnamon and his skin smelled like something she wouldn’t mind sinking her whole face in. “But I will fake it and no one will ever know the difference.”
She stepped back and gave him a smile that was as bright as the California sun. She reached out her hand and he shook it, troubled by her words but lured in just the same. When their skin touched, an electric current zinged through and shocked them both, causing them to jump back at once.
“Ow!” he said.
She just smiled bigger.
He walked away from her, certain she had a voodoo doll of him at home.
Beckham stayed for rehearsal and he and Roxie were paired together several times. The whole group was part of the practice, but she was always the one selected to shadow Beckham. It was his first time to work with them and he seemed to have already learned every dance long before they got there. Roxie had always been impressed with the way he moved. All through high school, she studied every single music video he made and never failed to record every live performance. Dancing with him now was surreal. She could feel the energy radiating off of him, almost knew his move before he made it. It was easier than it had been dancing without him there. Everyone worked harder, did better. He made everything Anthony choreographed come to life.
This was what she’d trained for … forever. This was what she’d given up when she got pregnant with Leo. It was all worth it. She stumbled, getting distracted in her thoughts. Don’t blow it, Roxie. Beckham grabbed her arm and pulled her into him, doing the salsa and staring into her eyes like he owned her. The way he looked at her when they danced—like she was a delicacy he was scared to touch but also wanted to devour—she could almost feel her defenses begin to fall. But no, she hated him. She needed to hate him. No matter what. There was no way she could let him in. Not again.
She’d Googled his eye color before. She was embarrassed thinking about it now, but as she looked into them again, she remembered that she’d done it more than once. His eyes were such an unusual grey blue. Constantly changing. Chameleon eyes, just like him, she thought. Never trust a guy that doesn’t even have a distinguishable eye color.
He laughed. She’d also studied videos of his laugh. It was the best laugh. If she didn’t hate it so much, she’d love it. It was not contained. He always laughed with everything and almost sounded like a geek when he did.
“What?” she snapped.
“What is going through that head of yours, Roxie Taylor?” He stretched her out and pulled her back along the front of his body. Her eyes widened when she felt a little too much of him. “Your hair is amazing, by the way. I’ve never seen it down.”
“Don’t try to distract me,” she said through clenched teeth.
He laughed again as the song ended. She yanked her hand away from his and before Anthony could start the song from the top again, Beckham said, all humor gone, “Why do you hate me so much?”
The music picked up again and they went through every move, not tearing their eyes away from the other. The tension was excruciating, but neither could look away.
When he pulled her tight to him this time, he said softly, “I asked you a question.”
Before she was swung out into a twirl, she replied, “It would take too long to tell you all the reasons.”
A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes and then he laughed the full-on laugh that had never failed to charm her.
“Are you joking? Am I being pranked? If so you are cracking me up!” His laughter faded away as he looked carefully at her. “Are you always this hateful?”
Roxie ignored him and concentrated on the rest of the song. He was gonna bust her vibe if he didn’t shut up already. She thought ignoring him would make him mad, but it seemed like he just got more and more amused by her. He turned up the sex about ten more decibels and when he pulled her in for the last cross-body hold, she gasped when she felt him against her back.
Hard and substantial, just like she remembered.
Beckham’s alarm went off at a very crucial part in his dream. Roxie was naked under him and she was looking up at him smiling. Like she adored him. Her long legs were wrapped around him and…
He hit snooze and willed himself to go back to the dream.
He ran his fingers through her hair and gave it a little tug. It was so short, it made her neck scream to be kissed. Her eyes closed as his tongue trailed down that pale neck and teased her breasts…
Shit! He hit the snooze again.
This time he was awake and Roxie’s true features came into focus. She wasn’t skewed like she’d been in the dream. Now her hair splayed out on the pillow as he imagined her grinning up at him while he drove into her.
Her eyes didn’t look at him nearly as adoringly as they had in his dream. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and change them from scorn to adoration.
Sick bastard, he thought later as he went into the bathroom, feeling much better. You need a woman. Bad.
At least now maybe he wouldn’t alarm her with his traitor dick every time she got near him. He’d managed to hide it from everyone but Roxie the day before. Just add one more huge notch to his growing list of embarrassments where she was concerned.
She looked away, as if the thought of even seeing him made her want to cease living. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. And he couldn’t wait to touch her again. Although he’d have to start chanting “Grandmother, grandmother, grandmother!” to avoid embarrassing himself with her again. This morning’s dream only made him more aware of her.
It wasn’t like she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He’d been with many more beautiful, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember who. She had such an expressive face. Thick eyebrows, wide-set, eyes—sometimes green, sometimes blue—that pulled you in and spat you out, thick blonde hair so long it made you want to get lost in it, and pale, smooth skin; she didn’t fit the typical model mold he’d dated. He couldn’t remember ever being so interested in a face, though. Those lips. And then the way she moved so gracefully. Her body was made to be a dancer, lean and sculpted. Her breasts were perfect, not too big, not too little. His gut clenched and he groaned inside. One shoulder was exposed, showing her hot pink sports bra. Her nipples poked through the shirt like there was nothing that would hold them back. She turned around to put her bag down and he saw her ass in yoga pants for the very first time. The baggie sweats had been nice the day before, but fuck him, these were like a second skin.
Sweet almighty Mary and Joseph! He was desperate. Mother Teresa’s great-grandmother!
It was like a work of art, the Michelangelo of booty. Tight and juicy.
Yeah, he was already coming up with a melody. Her ass was what songs were made of … the songs he’d written in middle school. He’d never claimed to be the most mature person out there anyway.
She turned around and his cheeks lit on fire. He knew for a fact no woman had ever made him blush, whether he was being an asshole or not. Back in his heyday of women, not so long ago, he’d actually been quite smooth. So there had to be some sort of spell she’d weaved on him.
He pulled the coffee he’d bought for her out from behind his back and it was the brightest her eyes had gotten so far. Ah—Miss Taylor has a weakness! He made note to bring her coffee for every early morning rehearsal they had together.
She snatched it out of his hands. Greedy.
He raised an eyebrow at her aggressiveness.
“Thanks,” she said with her raspy voice. It was always husky, but sounded especially so that early in the morning.
He smiled and he
r eyes softened. Just a touch, but enough to make him breathe easier. “Thanks for coming out so early. I know you didn’t really commit to giving up your weekends, at least not this early in rehearsals. You’re a quick learner, we’ll have it in no time, I promise.”
“It’s fine,” she said softly. “Thanks for this opportunity.”
He paused, not expecting that. Maybe she was warming up to him…
“Just keep your weapon away from me,” she added, with a raised eyebrow.
No, she hadn’t warmed up.
Anthony walked in, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. He probably hadn’t. David apparently hadn’t taken the breakup well.
“You all right?” Beckham asked.
Anthony lowered his fedora. “Ugh, don’t ask. When I get home from work every day, David starts calling every ten minutes. I finally picked up last night at midnight, just to tell him to never call again. We ended up talking until three. He said he never meant to hurt me … that he was just having a mini what-am-I-doing-with-my-life crisis and acting out.” He said it all so matter-of-fact, as if it were nothing, but his lower lip trembled a little.
Roxie put her hand on his arm. “Men suck. I’m sorry.”
Anthony smiled at her. “Don’t they? Thank you, hon. Come on, let’s get to work.”
If the day before had been a disaster where Beckham’s focus was concerned, this rehearsal was a thousand times worse. Beckham and Anthony had worked out the choreography weeks before; Beckham knew the material inside and out. But he kept getting distracted by Roxie. The song was all about seduction and the way she looked at him as they moved—he could have sworn she was seducing him.
He closed his eyes to shake it off and imagined her with short hair again. So weird. When he opened them, her long hair was whipping around in her ponytail. He squinted his eyes. Those lips, her beautiful neck, blue-green eyes staring up at him. She twisted gracefully around him and then he grabbed her waist and held her close, as their hips rocked in time with the slow, but driving tempo.
“Have I met you before, Roxie?” He stared at her, curious.
She went completely still. Her face went white, and she turned around quickly, but he’d already seen the look. She stalked over to her water bottle and kept her back to him. He walked behind her and put a hand on her back. She jumped.
“Everything okay? Need a break?” Anthony asked from across the room.
Roxie nodded and this time she did run out of the room.
What the hell? This girl was all kinds of unpredictable. He shrugged at Anthony and paced the stage as they waited for her to come back.
When ten minutes went by and she still hadn’t returned, Beckham told Anthony he’d go look for her. He looked everywhere. There was no sign of her. Finally, he went outside and saw her sitting in her car. He knocked on her window. She jumped again.
“Sorry!” he yelled. He opened her door and squatted down so he could see her better. “What’s going on, Rox?”
She turned to face him and he froze when he saw she was crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“I made a mistake coming here. I-I can’t … I can’t do it,” she whispered.
“Roxie, you’re the best dancer we have. You can totally do this.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard, trying to convince her he meant it. He meant it with a force that surprised him. The thought of her leaving had him panicked.
“I really can’t.” She shook her head and then leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. She was still for a couple of minutes and when she lifted her head, she looked determined. “I am so sorry to do this, but I need to get out of the tour. I-I’m so grateful you gave me a chance, but I made a huge mistake. Please, please let me out of the contract. I know it’s a huge inconvenience, but it’s still early enough … there are so many dancers that would jump at this opportunity.”
“I want you,” he said sincerely. “Roxie, look at me.” She didn’t, so he kept talking. “We need you—you’re the one who makes it all come alive out there. You’ve gotta know that with that attitude you must be a brilliant dancer to still be here.” He grinned, but it dropped when he saw another tear falling down her cheek. “We can’t lose you.” He felt like he was talking to a board. “What’s going on here? Why do you want to leave? I would send everyone else home before you!”
Roxie narrowed her eyes. “My, how things have changed…” she said, her tone caustic now.
“What do you mean?” He was beginning to get nervous. She didn’t answer. He looked at her for a long time. “Wait—was it because I asked if we’d met before? Have we?”
She pulled her head back and leaned it against the headrest. “Oh, this is so fucking rich. I can’t believe you. Either you’re fucking stupid or the biggest fucking jerk that ever lived.”
Beckham stood up, angry now. She was swinging his emotions around like a game of tetherball.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I would be glad to listen if you’ll explain it to me.”
“Look, I can take a lot of things, but don’t make me out for the fool. If you recognized me, you should have just said so from the beginning.” She looked at him then and he nearly staggered to his knees from the daggers.
“I didn’t recognize you!” he said quietly. “I was drawn to you the moment I saw you, but I didn’t know we’d met before. I still don’t know w-”
She practically choked on a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could make this work. It was a stupid, stupid idea.” She started up the car. “I’ve gotta go.”
He grabbed the door before she could shut it.
“Please stay. I’m sorry—I don’t know what I did to make you so angry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you. I need you on this tour.”
She wiped her face and nodded once. He backed away from the car and she slammed the door. Her tires squealed as she drove out of the parking lot.
Chloe and Leo were outside when Roxie pulled up, and they both came running when they saw her crying.
“Why you cryin’, Mommy?” Leo wrapped his arms around her leg and looked up at her with the sweetest eyes.
“I’m just tired and frustrated,” she told him. “And I needed to see my boy.”
Leo hugged her harder. “Here I am.”
“Here you are.” She hugged him tighter.
Chloe studied her and finally came over to hug her too. “Well, we’re glad to see you. We were gonna go to the beach as soon as you got home. Want to head out soon?”
Roxie nodded. “Sounds good.”
Leo reached up for Roxie to pick him up. He put his hands on either side of her face and peered at her carefully. “You feelin’ better?”
“I am now.”
“Good. Wanna hear a joke?”
“Of course.”
“’K … what did the cat ask the zombie?” He bit his bottom lip to keep from yelling out the punchline.
“Hmm … I don’t know. What?”
“Meow’s life?” He’d started laughing before he got it all the way out.
“Meow’s life?” Roxie pulled back, looking in Leo’s eyes.
He stopped laughing but couldn’t stop grinning. “Yeah, you know, like … how’s life? Meow’s life … ’cept zombies are already dead.” His lisp was extra heavy when he got excited.
“Wow, that’s actually a pretty good one, Leo.”
The beach calmed Roxie more than she’d thought possible. When she left Beckham, she was strung so tight, every muscle felt jittery. Now, just looking out at the endless waves and feeling so incredibly small—it made her anger slowly fade away into the tide. She would get back to hating Beckham again tomorrow, but for now, she welcomed the peace.
They found a spot to lay their blanket and stretched out. Leo barely ran in the water and quickly hightailed it back to their towel, teeth chattering. The cold water always shocked him, but he kept going back in for more.
“So what happened?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Roxie groaned.
“Oh no, you’re not getting out of it.” Chloe poked Roxie in the side.
“He asked if we’d met before,” Roxie whispered.
“Shit!”
Of course that’s when Leo surprised them by running back to get warm.
“What’d you say, Auntie?” Leo’s head whipped around faster than lightning.
“I said, ‘Sit!’ Come on, sit by me and I’ll warm you up!” She looked at Roxie guiltily.
“Hmm, yeah,” Leo said, but he went and sat by her anyway.
Roxie flicked Chloe in the arm. Leo sat for all of a minute and then ran back to the water.
“What did you say back?” Chloe stared at Roxie, who was watching Leo jump up and down in an inch of water.
“I got out of there … after I basically got stuck on the f-word and told him all the ways he was fucking stupid.”
“No! What did he do?”
“He apologized for whatever he’d done to make me angry and asked me not to leave the tour.”
“Wait—you’re thinking of leaving? No, Rox. You have to do this.” She grabbed Roxie’s arm and forced her to look at her. “I know this is so hard, but you’ve done the hardest part—seeing him again. Now that you’ve gotten past that initial shock, you have to go all the way. We’ll finally get ahead a little bit. You’ve worked so hard, for so long. There’s no other way you can make money like this—not any time soon, anyway. And this is the safest I’ve felt since I met Alex. I didn’t even realize until being away from him this long, how much I was still fearful that he was around every corner…”
Roxie put her arm around Chloe. “I’m so relieved you got away from him. You seem more like yourself than you have in a really long time.”
Chloe leaned her head on Roxie’s shoulder. “I feel more like myself,” she admitted. “I let him control me far too long. I mean, I get why it was easy for him to control me when we first started dating—I was 14. Remind me one day not to let my daughter date that early.” Her laugh choked in her throat and sounded painful. She sat up and looked at Roxie. “I’m embarrassed, Rox. I wasted so much time with an abusive boyfriend. I never thought I’d let someone … hurt me. I’m the baby of the family—you guys have loved me my whole life. Why would I put up with that trash?”