thought you enjoyed yourself,” he said, leading the way to his modern kitchen. He directed her toward one of the high-backed stools at the counter.
“Tonight has been fun. But it started out worse … I’m tired, so I’m not making sense. I meant to say you made a bad day better.”
“I’m glad. What was bad about it?”
“Just some news I was hoping would be different.”
“What news?” he asked as he started gathering the ingredients for omelets from the refrigerator.
“Remember earlier tonight when you asked me about my secrets?” she asked. She didn’t look up at him but instead traced a pattern on the Mexican tile countertop. Her finger just ran across the pattern over and over again. He was struck by how long her fingers were. He wondered what they’d feel like on his skin.
“I do, indeed. Does the bad news have to do with your secrets?” he asked. He really hadn’t thought she was hiding much. She was a dancer and a choreographer. What kind of secrets could she have?
“Yes, it does. I don’t know what you know about my past,” she said, glancing over at him.
“Not too much. If I had to guess I’d say you were a dancer.”
“You’d be right on the money. Dancing has been my life for as long as I can remember. And I made a mistake a few years ago and haven’t been able to compete since then,” she said.
“What kind of mistake?”
“One that involved a man,” she said. Her eyes were wide and weary as she watched him and he kept his face neutral.
“It’s funny, Jen, but a woman ultimately led to my change of profession.” “Really?”
“Yes. When I was injured I had been engaged and while I was recovering, she decided to move on to a different player.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Obviously, we weren’t going to be happy together. I learned a very important lesson from her, one I haven’t forgotten,” he said.
“What was that?” she asked.
“That I’m not cut out for marriage,” he said.
“To her,” Jen said. “Why did you tell me?”
“So you wouldn’t feel like you were the only one to make a mistake because of love. What happened with your ‘mistake’?”
“I was forbidden from competing in the Latin dance competitions. I filed an appeal,” she said. “After a lengthy review, the verdict stands and I’m still not welcome to compete.” Her shoulders fell. “I’m never going to compete again.”
“That’s okay. You are going to do other things,” he said. “At the club every night you share your love for Latin music and dances with someone new. That has to count for something.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not. But that is life, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I am still struggling to figure out where I’m going to fit in without competition.”
“How long has it been since you competed?” he asked. He thought she’d been working at Luna Azul for at least a year.
“Three years. I filed a protest as soon as it happened. And I don’t want to sound like I’m full of myself but things usually work out for me. I just expected this to do the same.”
“My dad used to say that everything happens for a reason,” Nate said, hearing his father’s voice in his head. “We might not understand the reason but it’s there.”
She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “Do you believe that?”
“Yes, I do. I’m going to tell you something I don’t let most people know,” he said, leaning across the counter so that their faces were close.
“What is that?”
“I couldn’t have been as content playing baseball as I am with the life I’m living now.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding a bit skeptical.
“Truly. I get to see my brothers every day. I’m paid to entertain my friends and make sure that people have a good time. Is there a better job in the world?”
She nodded. “I see what you mean. I do love dancing and I’m able to do that every night.”
She got a far-off look in her eyes and he knew there was more to the story than she was letting on. “I guess I had gone as far as I could in that career. It was time for something new.”
“And you get to spend the morning with me,” he said.
“Wow, Nate, don’t sell yourself short,” she said with a laugh.
“I never do,” he said, kissing her.
Nate’s advice made sense and she liked the way he gave it out effortlessly and didn’t try to pretend that he had all the answers. He was more than she’d expected him to be, but then he’d been surprising her all night. She should be used to it.
“I’m not really hungry,” she said at last. She hadn’t come back to his place to eat and they both knew it.
“I’m not, either.”
He came around the counter and drew her to her feet. “Want to see the rest of this place?” “Yes, I do.”
He led the way down the hall to his bedroom. On the walls were exquisite pictures in bright colors that reminded her of Mexico City. His home was very modern and now. But it wasn’t a cold, modern decor, it was very warm and inviting and Jen was amazed that she felt so at home here.
She drew him to a stop under a portrait of him wearing a Yankees cap. “When did you take this?”
“Season opener. My dad wanted it … he was so proud of me for going pro. He came to every game if it didn’t interfere with his playing schedule. This hung in his bedroom at our home on Fisher Island.”
“When did he die?” she asked.
“Two weeks after I got injured. He didn’t know I’d never play again,” Nate said. “I’m glad.”
“I think he’d still be proud of you,” she said. She knew that her parents would have been proud of her no matter what she did. Marcia always said that parents just wanted their kids to be happy. Usually she was referring to her own seven-year-old son Riley.
“I’m not sure. Why am I telling you all this stuff?” he asked.
“People tell me things,” she said. “I think I look like the girl next door and people just feel comfortable with me. You probably do, too.”
“Girl
