A Chance in the Night by Kimberly Van Meter Page B

chewed her bottom lip, she had a strong suspicion a name wouldn’t be enough for a man like Christian Holt. Men like Christian found projects and Skye had just given him the green light to count her among his. A delicate shiver rocked her at the thought.
    Perhaps it was the remnant of her distasteful altercation with Vivian that still had her on edge and feeling reckless. Or perhaps it was just that standing there with this incredibly good-looking man who was smiling at her as if she’d just given him the keys to the castle made her feel normal and she hungered for such simple pleasures. “I used to dance,” she said, the need to be anything other than he already knew caused her to loosen her tongue when she otherwise would’ve remained quiet. She never gave up personal information. Her dancing had been her own, a bright, shiny spot on the time line of her life thus far and she protected it with the fierce snarl of a mother bear. And yet, she’d given him this information without a fight.
    He eyed her speculatively. “Now when you say dancer…do you mean of the classic variety or the exotic?”
    She lifted her chin. “Ballet,” she answered with a clip to her tone. She didn’t train her entire life, endure countless bruises, bunions, broken toes and forgo anything and everything with too high a calorie count just to swing around on a pole for a few sweaty dollars shoved into her G-string.
    “I was going to guess ballet but you never know these days. I’ve known a few exotic dancers who were pretty talented except your posture gives you away.”
    “What do you mean? I have excellent posture.”
    “Exactly. It’s too perfect. Ballet dancers have two things in common, seemingly effortless grace and near perfect posture. I knew a girl in high school who dreamed of becoming a ballerina. She practiced endless hours and once told me the way to perfect her form was to pretend she was hanging by a string pulled from the top of her head. I thought it sounded pretty uncomfortable but it must’ve worked because she was an amazing dancer.”
    Her cheeks warmed but not in embarrassment, rather with pleasure. To know that was still a part of her, deep down, was a balm to her ragged nerves. “I was good,” she said.
    “How good?”
    “Good enough to land the prima ballerina spot after a year dancing with the New York Ballet.”
    He smiled, popping a dimple that flirted when his grin deepened. “I’d say that’s a fair sight better than just good.”
    “Perhaps.” She laughed in spite of herself. This man was dangerous. Dangerous to someone like her. She had no business engaging in such playful banter, which was exactly why she was enjoying it so much. She glanced at her watch and her good mood started to fade. She called out for Nico to come to her and then returned to Christian with the intention of ending their conversation but before she could, he surprised her again with a request for her phone number.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, hesitating.
    “Then let me give you mine,” he countered, his guileless gaze melting away all the good reasons why she should decline. He pulled a pen from his back pocket and after gently grasping her hand, he flipped her palm and scribbled a set of numbers. “If you want it, it’s here. If not, just wash it away.”
    The skin of her palm tingling from where the pen scrawled, she slowly closed her hand and smiled. “You don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”
    He stepped away, that damnable grin returning. “A character flaw I’ve never quite been able to root out. Take care, Skye D’Lane.”
    She watched as he collected the boy he was mentoring and an odd flutter chased her thoughts. What if she’d met someone like Christian instead of Belleni five years ago? How different would her life be today? A painful sigh escaped and she straightened against the longing that served no purpose. Her life wasn’t different and there was no place in it