Quinn, your left foot goes forward first. The same foot we’ve used the last twenty-five times.” Was her voice showing strain? Once upon a time, she’d been known for her patience.
He hadn’t lied when he said he had two left feet.
“We’re just making a square—a box. Left foot forward, right side…a box.”
“Yeah, right. A box. So how many teachers are there here, actually?”
“Are you afraid that I can’t teach you, Mr. O’Casey?”
“No, no, I just wondered. You’re doing fine. I was just curious as to how many teachers you have.”
“Ben Trudeau is teaching full time now.”
“Trudeau?” he said.
“He used to be married to Lara. They’ve been divorced for several years. He was mainly doing competitions and coaching, but he decided a few months ago that he wanted to take up residence on the beach. He’s an excellent teacher.”
“He must be devastated.”
“We’re all devastated, Mr. O’Casey.”
“Sorry. I can imagine. She must have been something. So accomplished, and such a friend to everyone here, huh? Doug told me she taught here sometimes.”
“She coached,” Shannon told him.
“Must be hard for all of you to have the studio open and be teaching already.”
“Work goes on.”
“So all the teachers have come back?”
“Yes.”
“Who are the rest of them?”
“Justin Garcia and Sam Railey, and Jane Ulrich, who teaches your brother, and another woman, Rhianna Markham.”
His foot landed hard on hers once again.
“Sorry—I told you I had two left feet,” he apologized.
Shannon drew a deep breath. “We do want to get you to where you can converse while you’re on the floor, but maybe if you didn’t ask so many questions while we were working, it might be better.”
“Sorry. Just want to get to know the place, feel a little more comfortable here.”
“That’s what the practice sessions and parties are for,” she murmured.
“Parties?”
“And practice sessions,” she said firmly. “Beginners come on Monday, Tuesday and Friday nights, sometimes even the other weeknights if we get busy, and learn more steps in groups. Then you hone those steps with your teacher.”
“Do students have to come?”
“Of course not. But individual sessions are expensive. The group sessions are open to all enrolled students. You learn a lot faster and make a lot better use of your money by attending the group classes.”
“And the parties? When are they? Are they for all the students?”
“Wednesday nights, eight to ten, and yes, beginners are welcome. You should come.”
“I will.”
His foot crunched down on hers once again. Hard. She choked back a scream. How much longer? Fifteen more minutes. She wasn’t sure she could take it.
She looked around. Jane still hadn’t returned from her appointment. Rhianna was working with David Mercutio, husband of Katarina Mercutio, the designer who shared the second floor of the building with them. She was wonderful—specializing in weddings, with one-of-a-kind dresses for both brides and wedding parties. She had also learned the special requirements for ballroom-competition gowns, and had made some truly spectacular dresses. Just as it was great for the studio to be right on top of the club, it was a boon to have Katarina right next to them.
David was a regular who came twice a week to work with Rhianna. He had also known and worked with Lara. He and Rhianna were deep in conversation as they twirled around, working on a tango. She knew they were probably discussing Lara. Sam Railey, however, didn’t have a student at the moment. He was putting his CDs in order.
Quinn O’Casey’s really large left foot landed on her toe once again.
“Sam!” she called suddenly, breaking away from her partner.
“Yeah?” he looked up.
“Can I borrow you for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Shannon headed toward the stereo, waiting for the tango to play out, removed the CD and replaced it with an old classic—Peggy Lee singing “Fever.” Sam walked over to partner her as she spoke to her new student. “Right now, you’re just trying to get the basic box. But if you think of the steps to the music, it might help you.”
Sam led her in the basic steps while she looked at Quinn. She was not at all convinced he was trying very hard.
To her surprise, Sam spoke up. “It looks like a boring dance,” he said to Quinn. “But it can be a lot of fun.”
The next thing Shannon knew, Sam had taken the initiative. They moved into a grapevine, an underarm spin and a series of pivots. Steps far advanced from anything their new student could begin to accomplish.
“Okay, Sam,” she said softly. “We don’t want to scare him off.”
“Well…he should see what he can learn,” Sam replied.
She couldn’t argue. They did lots of demonstrations to show their students what they could learn. She just wondered about this particular student.
But Quinn was nodding and looking as if he had suddenly figured something out. He stepped in to take his position with her again. The guy had a great dance hold; he also wore some kind of really great aftershave. He should be a pleasure to teach.
Except that he was always watching.
But weren’t students supposed to watch?
Not the way he did, with those piercing blue eyes.
She looked back up into them, reminding herself that she was a teacher, and a good one.
“Listen, feel it, and move your feet. Remember that you’re just making a square.”
To her amazement, he had it. He finally had it. A box. A simple box. It felt like a miracle.
“Head up,” she said softly, almost afraid to push her luck. “Don’t look at your feet. It will only mess you up.”
His eyes met hers, and he maintained the step and the rhythm. His dimple showed as he smiled, pleased. His hold was just right. There was distance between them, but she was still aware of hot little jolts sweeping through her, despite the lack
