One Last Dance (9 page)

Did Henry really care that much
about her that he was that broken up about the scandal? It wasn’t just an act
for her? Which was a bigger danger to her? Losing her business or spending a
few uncomfortable hours with Henry?

Carl was right. She did have much
more to lose than Henry and she didn’t have any better ideas, even after a
night of watching rom-coms with Darren and Wayne.  If she risked her last
stake in the dance world just to prove a point she would never forgive herself.

“Fine, I’ll participate in
Henry’s charade. But that’s all it will be.”

Carl clapped his hands. “That’s
all he’s asking for.”

Sophie toed the makeshift tap
shoes she’d been working on earlier. She never thought she’d be paying such a
high price for just one dance.

***

Sophie stared into her closet and
plucked at her lower lip. She’d pushed all the t-shirts and blouses aside,
uncovering the second row of clothes. Her dresses. There was an entire rod full
of bright hued creations in satin and silk adorned with ruffles, sequins and
plunging necklines. Every single one of them held a memory. A competition, a
dance, a time when Christian was holding her in his arms.  She fingered
the dresses, determined not to think about any of those memories now. She had bigger
things to worry about.

“Henry’s got a black tie event
tonight. You guys can use it as your ‘coming out’,” Carl had said. And now here
she was, standing in front of a closet full of dresses that she hadn’t worn in
years.

She heard the apartment door shut
and quick footsteps crossing to her bedroom door. “Stop worrying, I’m here!”
Darren called out as he pushed into the room.

“I can’t wear any of this,” she
said despondently as she eyed Darren.

“What’s the occasion?”

Sophie slid her gaze away from him.
She called him after Carl had left and asked him to help her get ready for a
night out, but she hadn’t given him any details. “I sort of agreed to go along
with Henry’s scheme and he’s got a black tie event tonight. We’re going as a
couple,” she said quickly, trying to soften the blow of the news.

Darren frowned. “Henry as in
‘we’re going to stick it to Henry Medina’?”

“Yes?” She plopped onto the end
of her bed. “I didn’t have any other choice. Trust me, I considered all of my
options. If I don’t do something fast the business is done and my second career
is over. I don’t think I can handle that again.”

He sat down beside her and took
her hand. “Just be careful, Soph. He might have some ulterior motive in all of
this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured
him with a watery grin. “I am not in the least bit interested in pursuing
anything with him. I’m only doing this to save the studio, my reputation, and
both our jobs.”

“So you’re not worried about
getting caught in the crossfire again?”

“Once I clear my name I won’t be
seeing him anymore. Look, tonight isn’t about him, Dar. It’s about me.”

He narrowed his eyes in
consideration before patting her hand and popping to his feet. “In that case,
we need to make you look as hot as possible for your final tabloid appearance!
”

Sophie laughed as he began
rummaging through her closet. Almost immediately, he snagged a golden yellow
dress scattered with glittering rhinestones and thrust it at her. The skirt was
floor length, but slit up the center to allow for ease of movement when dancing
tango. She pulled off her workout attire and shimmied into the tight dress,
turning to look at herself in the mirror.

“No,” Sophie said as soon as she
realized that the dress bared her knee. She could see that low back flattered
her figure and the yellow hue made her skin glow, but no matter how good she
looked otherwise, her mangled knee was the first thing anyone’s eyes would be
drawn to.

Darren sighed. He turned to the
closet and studied the remaining dresses. Embarrassment and anger burned in the
back of Sophie’s throat. Damn Henry Medina for putting her in this position!

Darren pulled out a cherry red
silk dress and held it up. It was strapless, tight as a glove until mid thigh,
where it flared out in a fall of black feathers. She’d never danced in it, but
she had attended several functions with Christian in the sexy gown. It pushed
her breasts up, giving her about a mile of cleavage. Sophie’s heart thumped at
the prospect. She shook her head.

He sighed. “What’s wrong with
this one?”

Sophie crumpled back onto the
bed, tugging the yellow satin over her disfigured knee. “The same thing that’s
wrong with all the others,” she whispered, eyes downcast. Still, she didn’t
miss Darren’s crossed arms or cocked eyebrow.

“And what’s that?”

“Me. I can’t do this, Dar. I was
crazy to agree to it. This event is going to be sophisticated, and I’m just...”
she motioned vaguely at the bright red gown he still held, “not.” Tears pricked
her eyes.

Darren lay the dress on the edge
of her bed and knelt in front of her. “Soph, you’re one of the best dancers the
world has ever seen, and now you’re a successful business owner. These people
should be thankful that you’re attending their boring event. You’re going to
put on a gorgeous dress, and take your gorgeous face to this ball and knock
them all on their asses.”

“I am?” she sniffled.

“You are.” He nodded his head
assuredly, ending any more discussion of Sophie’s shortcomings.  

She gave him a wan smile. “Okay,
but I really can’t wear any of this.”

He’d just opened his mouth to
answer when a loud rap at her apartment door startled them both.

“Are we expecting any more
company?” he asked.

“No.” She rose with a frown and
walked slowly toward the apartment door, Darren following behind her.

Her spine went stiff as she
pulled the door open and looked up into the striking face of Henry Medina.
“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, but she hadn’t been
expecting him at her doorstep so soon. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored
tuxedo, its cut accentuating his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the long
line of his well-muscled legs. His olive skin stood out lustrously against the
starched white of his shirt. Mother-of-pearl cufflinks glinted at his wrists,
and his shoes were polished to a high shine. There were bags under his eyes,
apparently Carl hadn’t been lying.

He was here to pick her up, and
she was still in the dress that bared her bad knee. She bit her lip to stave
off the tears that she felt welling up as Henry extended a garment bag toward
her. “I thought you might need something to wear.”

“I don’t need you to dress me,”
she snapped.

“Would you just try it on
please?”

She glanced down at the garment
bag, fully aware that none of her own dresses were going to work. “Fine, no
promises though.” She tugged the bag’s zipper down, revealing the shimmery
gleam of silver. She gasped, but Darren’s gasp was louder.

“I think that’s Oscar de la
Renta! You
have
to try it on,” Darren hissed.

She spun on her bare heel and
stalked into the bedroom in an attempt to shield her enthusiasm from Henry. But
when she unzipped the bag completely and gazed at the vision of a dress that he
had brought her she practically squealed.

She stepped out of the yellow
satin and slid the cool silk up her body, shivering at the musical tinkle of
the silver beads that made up the fringe. Zipped up, the dress fit her like a
glove, hugging her body in its soft embrace. A thin silver belt cinched the
waist beneath the curtain of silver beading that fell from the neckline. Layer
after layer of fringe fell from her mid-thigh down to her toes. Though it clung
to her breasts, hips, and backside, the scoop neck was quite modest, and the
skirt reached the floor.

As she looked at herself in the
mirror, she felt graceful, elegant and feminine in a way she hadn’t since
before the accident. She bit her lip and glided back out into the living room,
both men turning to her as she approached them. Darren’s mouth dropped open and
his green eyes popped wide. “Oh, Sophie! You look amazing!”

A muscle in Henry’s jaw tightened
and his black eyes gleamed, but he didn’t speak. She brushed her fingers
against the beaded fringe at her knee, setting it ringing softly. “I don’t
know. It’s beautiful, but...”

“You look stunning in that dress.
You have to wear it
somewhere
. Even if it is out with him.” Darren
jerked a thumb in Henry’s direction. Henry ignored the jibe, though she saw his
mouth tighten a little at the corners.

“Darren’s right,” he said,
flashing the blond man a quick, dark look. “You do look incredible. You should
let people see you in that dress.”

She actually felt pretty
incredible too. But anxiety was knotting in her stomach. “I don’t have shoes to
go—”

Henry extended a box. “I almost
forgot.” His lips twitched upward this time as he suppressed a smile.

She took the box hesitantly,
caught off guard by how prepared Henry was. “I’ll go try them on.”

Darren touched her arm. “Since my
work here is done, I’m going to go. Call me when you get home, okay?” He
brushed a kiss against her cheek. She nodded, shooting a quick glance at Henry.
Darren clearly didn’t want to spend any extended time in his company, and she
didn’t blame him. Gorgeous dress or no, just because she’d agreed to his scheme
didn’t mean she wasn’t still completely livid.

“Night, Dar. Thanks for your
help.”

He flapped a hand at her and
headed out the apartment door, completely ignoring Henry Medina.

“Can you give me a few minutes? I
just need to finish getting ready,” she said, turning to Henry.

“I’ll wait here,” he said, taking
a seat on Sophie’s couch and grabbing a magazine from her coffee table.

She went into the bathroom and
began rummaging through her make-up. It had been so long since she’d done
anything but a little eyeliner and lip gloss that she was momentarily
overwhelmed by the sheer prospect of having to get made up.

But once she’d taken a deep
breath it came back surprisingly easy. She’d been blessed with good skin, so
she skipped a heavy liquid foundation in favor of a lighter foundation mousse,
and she warmed the curve of her cheekbone with a little bronzer. A dramatic
smoky eye and a dark cherry lip lent a subtle sexiness to her otherwise natural
look.

She moved onto her hair,
fashioning it into a smooth French twist and clipping it with a sparkling
silver pin that matched her beaded silver earrings.  Satisfied that she’d
done all she could, she opened the shoe box Henry had brought.

She inhaled sharply. The heels
inside were gorgeous, maybe even moreso than the dress. A four and a half inch
heel with a peep toe, the shoe was covered with tiny, shimmering crystals. She
slipped them on, once again marveling that he seemed to know her exact size.

It was time to face the music. Or
the paparazzi, rather. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and
glided back into her living room. Henry glanced up from the magazine, his
hungry gaze attaching to her immediately. The look shot through her like a
bullet. She stilled, spine stiffening, as his eyes raked her from head to toe.
She felt her own hunger flare low in her belly. She remembered the feel of his
lips on her skin, the dark, commanding tone of his voice as he’d told her to
kneel in his bedroom. She shivered.

“We’d better get going.” Her
voice came out wispy, but he jumped to his feet. “The limo is waiting.” He
motioned her to precede him out the door. Sophie went, hoping he wouldn’t try
to touch her. She was hanging on by a thread—one brush of his hand could set
her off and Sophie didn’t know if she’d laugh, or cry, hit him, or throw
herself at him.

He didn’t touch her. Sophie
breathed a small sigh of relief, and disappointment, as they climbed into the
elevator in silence. This was going to be a long night.

Sophie tried not to twist her
hands into the lovely fabric of her dress. She stared out the window, willing
the traffic to move faster. But they were nearly at a standstill. Neither one
of them had spoken since they had left her apartment and the silence was
growing unwieldy. There was no way they could go out in public like this. No
one would believe they were a couple.

Perhaps, if she could get them
both feeling more relaxed, things would go more smoothly. “Do you go to this
type of thing often?”

“It’s part of the job.” His eyes
cut quickly to her and then away.

“Which is what, exactly? If we’re
supposed to be a couple, shouldn’t I know what Medina Properties does?”

Henry shifted in his seat,
finally looking at her. “We buy and sell land, mostly. Develop real estate.
It’s not very interesting and most of the people there won’t want to talk about
business anyway.”

She swallowed hard. “Ok. Do we
have a story?”

“I think it’s best we stick as
close to the truth as possible.”

“Minus the part where you pay me
for dance lessons and all five boroughs think I’m a prostitute?”

“Minus that.”

Sophie bit her lip. “Do you want
to give me anything to work with?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re supposed to be a couple
and I know nothing about you. Give me something. Lies, if it has to be. So long
as I have some story to go with when I walk into that party.”

“Fine. I grew up here in the
States. My father made a fortune before I was born, so always attended private
school. Exeter. Harvard. I started working for his company the minute I
graduated.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

She slumped back against the
creamy leather seat. Henry shifted suddenly beside her and held out a flat
jewelry box. “By the way, this goes with the dress.” He opened the box,
revealing a gleaming strand of lustrous pearls. They glimmered like small,
round mirrors. Sophie gasped, touching tentative fingertips to the cool
spheres. Henry drew it out and held up the opera length strand. “They were my
mother’s.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide as he
slipped them around her throat and her anger dissipated. He turned her slightly
away from him so he could fix the clasp. Why would he give her something to
wear that had belonged to his mother? He had been so cold and now this?

“She always said pearls proved to
her there was a God, because nothing so perfect and beautiful could be an
accident,” he said.

“She sounds like a lovely woman,”
she murmured, stroking the strand of pearls as it warmed against her skin. He
finished hooking the clasp and stroked the nape of her neck briefly.

“She was.” Sophie felt the brief
brush of his fingers against her nape and shivered. He turned her back toward
him. “They look lovely on you.”

“Thank you, Henry.” She meant it
for more than just the loan of the pearls. For the first time, she felt as if
he was really talking to her, not trying to hide behind evasive language. She
stared into his dark eyes and wondered what it might have been like if the
scandal had never happened. Would Henry have gotten through to her? Carl had
said he’d called the studio the day after their... encounter. What would he
have said if he’d gotten a hold of her?

She didn’t know if she’d be here
with him now.  A small part of her was a little glad her hand was being
forced. The rest of her was terrified.

The limo drew to a stop in front
of the Four Seasons Hotel. Sophie’s breath caught in her throat as the driver
came around to open the door. This was it. When they walked through that door,
she and Henry would officially be a ‘couple’ to all of New York.