judge her by her performance and nothing else.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, the four auditioning ballerinas took the stage and waited for instructions. Rachel and Damien entered the back of the auditorium. Damien stopped at a pair of high stools a distance from the stage, and Rachel continued toward the stage to give instructions.
“Welcome, ladies.” Rachel smiled at the four ballerinas as she ascended the stairs. “The Johnson Ballet Company is a world-renowned, medium-sized classical ballet company. We perform about sixty to seventy ballets a year in the U.S. and abroad. This holiday season, we are performing a traditional yet original version of Romeo and Juliet. You all know the order of your performances?” When she received nods, she continued, “Good. Let’s have the first dancer, please.”
Rachel smiled and nodded to her assistant to begin the taped music of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 before leaving the stage to join Damien. She took the packet of resumés he handed her and pulled out the first one.
The first ballerina walked center stage and danced adequately, as did the second and the third. Natasha was the last to dance. She assumed the fourth position, hands held elegantly at her sides, patiently waiting for the music to begin.
Natasha mentally fought for composure and concentrated with all her might on the dance at hand. Her heart had begun beating erratically the moment she had stepped onto the stage, because she knew this was the moment of truth for her. If she couldn’t make it in a black-owned ballet company, then she wouldn’t be able to make it anywhere, and that scenario was unacceptable to her.
Though she could no longer see Damien Johnson because of the bright light shining in her eyes, she knew the pair of piercing eyes she felt following every move, every line and curve her body made as she floated across the stage belonged to him. She silently willed herself to be perfect; she refused to allow nerves to destroy this chance for her. She beat down her anxiety and poured all her energy and talent into her performance.
A smile of admiration tugged at the corners of Damien’s mouth as his appreciative eyes followed every seamless movement of Natasha’s lithe body. He looked briefly at her resumé then looked at the stage. She danced ethereally. Even at twenty-six, she danced circles around the five-to-eight-years-younger ballerinas who had come before her.
He watched with satisfaction as she performed a series of pirouettes and came effortlessly to a fast stop, holding and maintaining her ending position—back arched, arms held high, legs extended and toes pointed without faltering. She came out of her pose to sighs of envy and a small applause of admiration and praise, which she acknowledged with a cool smile and a nod of her head.
“Thank you, Miss Carter. That was beautifully done. We…” Rachel’s praise was cut short as Damien touched her arm. “Um, Miss Carter, I wonder if you would mind performing the courting dance for us.”
“Not at all,” Natasha agreed even as her body groaned. Part of her wanted to go somewhere private and collapse, but she couldn’t refuse—it was a wonderful sign this request was being made of her. She frantically ran through the dance in her mind, visualizing steps and combinations, praying she wouldn’t forget any of them.
“I’ll need a partner,” she reminded.
“We haven’t cast the male lead yet,” Damien said as he stood and slowly walked toward her, “but I’m at your service, Miss Carter.”
As he neared the stage, Natasha was quickly cognizant of the fact that Damien Johnson was even handsomer in person. His black hair was cropped close to his head, and a very light goatee accentuated his medium brown skin. His cheeks were chiseled and strong, and his full lips were smiling slightly. His body was magnificent—muscled, hard and completely masculine. He was dressed in black pants and black short-sleeved shirt stretched taut across his broad chest, which showed off his muscled arms. Lord in heaven, had she ever seen a more perfect man?
After an eternity, he finally reached her. Her tongue escaped to wet her suddenly dry lips. When his eyes darted to and fixated on her mouth, she let out her breath on an audible sigh. Trembling fingers smoothed an imaginary piece of hair away from her slightly flushed face, and she waited for him to speak because she couldn’t; her tongue had suddenly become glued to the roof of her mouth.
“Shall we?”
Oh, Lord, his voice! It was deep, sexy and created very inappropriate visions in her mind of them pressed close, and not in preparation for dancing—at least not ballet dancing. Goodness, she had to get a grip on her runaway hormones where this man was concerned—a man she hoped would soon be her boss. His outstretched hand sent her into motion.
“Of course.”
She forced the words through her constricted throat and took his hand—a hand that almost engulfed hers, a hand that she suddenly envisioned sliding caressingly down her trembling body. An electric shock went through them at that first contact. Their eyes darkened perceptibly as they silently stared at each other.
After interminable seconds, he nodded to the man sitting in the cave, and the music began. Before his disturbing eyes refocused on hers, she took a deep breath and released it slowly, silently reminding herself why she was here and to remain professionally cool and calm and to stop thinking like a woman when it came to Damien Johnson and behave like a dance partner instead.
The first strands were soft and sweet as they danced around each other, never coming too close, testing, teasing and tempting. She prayed she wouldn’t miss any steps or embarrass herself by clinging to his hard, tempting body longer than their dance necessitated. Her heart was hammering loudly in her chest. Damien’s focused eyes and expression were unreadable; she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. They moved well together; she knew he hadn’t danced professionally in years, but he was still very good. She came within an arm’s length and then flitted away on the tips of her toes as the dance called for before twirling back into his waiting embrace.
What in reality took only several minutes to conclude seemed to stretch out endlessly. Finally, the music ended and they stopped close together. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and his were on her waist. Their bodies were touching lightly, and their lips were within centimeters of contact. Thunderous applause broke the spell that she was sure would have led to an inappropriate but very passionate kiss between them in a few more seconds.
“The best ballerina I’ve ever danced with.” Damien’s voice was for her ears alone as he reluctantly released her.
“You’re too kind.”
She told herself the breathlessness in her voice was a result of the dance, but she knew it had more to do with being held so close to Damien than anything else. She took a few necessary steps away from him, willing her heart to stop its frantic thudding.
“Just speaking the truth, Natasha,” he said with a smile.
Her skin tingled at the sound of her name on his lips. It was as if no one else had ever spoken it correctly until him.
“Thank you.”
“We’ll let you know our decision in a few days.” He abruptly turned and left her alone on the stage.
She stood there in a daze, not fully comprehending what had just happened before realizing she had been coolly dismissed. When no more requests were made of her, she turned and exited the stage, quickly making her way through her congratulatory peers and seeking the solitude of the changing room. Once there, she put cool hands to her
