Page 59 of The Singles Club
“Annette.”
“I knew an Annette once.” I rolled my eyes. “Total teacher’s pet and annoying.”
He smiled and leaned closer, so close that I could smell his cologne. It was light and intoxicating. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re jealous.”
I bit my lip and went back to stretching. “Seriously, tell me. How is learning a dance the magic cure to finding a successful relationship?”
“You’ll see when we’re done.” He smiled and his eyes locked with mine. “Trust me?”
Trust wasn’t something I gave easily, but somehow it was different with Justin. I believed he had the best intentions with me… whatever his plan was.
“Okay. I’ll trust you.” I stood up and started my arm stretches. “So how are two people who aren’t professionals going to learn this dance in just over two weeks?”
“Do you remember Max, the one who drove us for our pretend date?”
“Yes.”
“His grandmother danced on Broadway for years. I hired her as an instructor. She should be here soon.”
As I got up to do arm stretches, a woman walked into the room wearing a long-sleeved black leotard with thick black tights. Her dark curly hair was piled on top of her head, and she had Joan Crawford eyebrows—thick and sharp, as if they could slice right through you. Her lips were thin and small without one smile line. With her lean, muscular frame and barely any wrinkles, I couldn’t believe she was anyone’s grandmother.
Justin held out his hand. “Hi, you must be Katerina. Thank you for agreeing to do this.”
She limply shook his hand. “You should thank my grandson. I normally only work with serious dancers.” She looked over both of us, and those intense eyebrows narrowed. “And you are supposed to be Rogers and Astaire?” Her Greek accent was thick.
I snorted. “Hardly.”
Her mouth twitched. “I wasn’t being serious.”
My smile faded, and I stood straight and tall by Justin’s side.
She stepped in front of me, almost nose to nose like an army drill sergeant. “What experience do you have?”
I swallowed. “Five years of tap. Two years of jazz and ballet.”
“How old were you?”
“I started when I was seven and stopped my lessons just before I turned thirteen.”
“Hmm.” She obviously wasn’t impressed. She turned to Justin. “And you?”
He cleared his throat. “I had no formal lessons, but my father taught me to waltz, box step, and foxtrot.”
She crossed her arms. “Show me. Both of you.”
“Um, I don’t know how to waltz,” I confessed.
She gestured to Justin. “You don’t need to know. You follow his lead.”
I turned to Justin, and he held out his hand. “The right is palm to palm,” he whispered. My fingers clasped around his, and his smile was soft as he moved closer, slipping his other hand around my upper back. His touch was so warm, and my hypothalamus kicked in. So many drugs were pumping through me that I didn’t know which one was which anymore. All I knew was I very much liked the feeling of being this close to him… and yearned to be even closer.
“Place your left hand on my shoulder,” he said. My fingers glided over the fabric of his T-shirt, and I squeezed a bit, feeling the muscles flex under my fingertips.
“You, Ms. Five-Years-of-Dance.” Katerina tapped my right elbow. “Are you a noodle?”
I held my arm out straighter.
“The waltz is like liquid, a flow like a soft brook, but your body must be in control at all times. Understand?”
