Page 7 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I did get to see The Radio City Christmas Spectacular Starring the Rockettes though. It was a highlight of my time there. I guess you could say I gained some confidence going through all those auditions and taking classes. When I got back to Atlanta, I auditioned for the TV show, So You Think You Can Dance. Made it into the top twenty.”

His heart surged with pride, and he stopped eating. “That’s amazing!”

Gia blushed, averting her eyes and shaking her head. “It was pretty surreal. After New York and my time on TV, I thought I might go back to New York or try LA and go further with dance, you know, as a career. But then my aunt got sick, and I took care of her and maintained the studio in her last months. When she died, she left the studio to me in her will. I pretty much gave up on my professional dance dream.” Her head was cocked to the side as she looked at him thoughtfully. “You want to see it?”

“See what?” he answered, nerves settling into his gut, making the delicious egg salad less appetizing.

“My studio?” He watched her pull money out of a small purse and set it on the table.

“Please, Gia. Let me pay,” he pleaded. She had caught him off guard, his chivalry slipping.

“No, Hart. I told you, this is my way of saying, ‘thank you’ for last night.”

As they stood and gathered their things, he was aware of how independent she was. It was refreshing and daunting at the same time. He realized at that moment, she never really needed his help to begin with.

Chapter Five

They walked silently in-between several cars across the parking lot that had seen better days. Gia almost didn’t share with Hart about her time in New York and her stint on the TV dance show, his apparent shock evident in his handsome face and quiet demeanor. She wasn’t trying to show off or impress him. He was just very easy to talk to. She had asked him to meet at her favorite diner conveniently located near her business, not only to treat him to a thank-you lunch but to get his opinion on her current real estate. Even though they hadn’t spent much time together, she caught on quickly that he had been some sort of big-shot as a real estate broker at one time and hoped he might be able to give her some good advice.

“This is it,” she said proudly, pointing up to the red and white cursive Dance Atlanta logo on the awning. She still couldn’t get over the fact that this little piece of brick and mortar belonged to her. The outside was deceiving, the inside well-cared for and immaculately clean. She turned the key to the door and flicked on a bank of lights.

The main room was a large, open space with wall-to-wall mirrors. A worn ballet barre was on one side, and a small, upright piano sat in the corner near a tall bookshelf loaded with an old sound-system and several trophies.

Hart whistled through his teeth. “This is huge, Gia. I would have never known this place existed behind the brick wall out front. How long have you been here?”

Gia set her purse down on top of the piano. “Most of my life.” She couldn’t help but smile, a surge of warm love penetrating her being. Her Aunt Caroline had started the business back in the 1980s when leg-warmers and headbands were all the rage. When Gia was born a decade later, she was practically raised in the studio, which became her sanctuary during her teens after her mother died. Her aunt became her guardian in those years, mentoring her passion for dance and celebrating the milestones she achieved along the way. It had been two years since her Aunt’s passing; the business left to Gia in the will. She was determined to keep it afloat, but with the recent economic downturn, she was struggling.

Hart stood in the middle of the room. He clutched his suit jacket with one hand, the other on his hip, and looked around. “How many square feet do you have?” Gia thought he looked cute in his collared shirt and khakis. He was a real preppy Southern boy looking out of place in the unadorned space.

“Almost fifteen-hundred. I have a small bathroom and kitchenette in the back as well as some storage and an office. We make it work.”

Hart turned his gaze toward her and approached. She couldn’t help but admire his chiseled jawline and dark, smoky eyes. Even casually dressed, he was an incredibly handsome man. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Gia nodded. “My staff. Or what’s left of them.” She watched his brow furrow.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed and rested her arm on the piano. “You could probably tell that this area didn’t fare too well during the recession.”

His eyebrows raised as if in agreement. “Yes. I gathered that when I arrived in the parking lot.” He approached the opposite end of the piano, placing his jacket on top and mirrored her stance, resting his arm on the sturdy wood. “You said you’ve been here most of your life. Did you grow up in the surrounding neighborhood?”

Gia nodded. “Yes. I used to ride my bike here back in the day. This place belonged to my Aunt Caroline, and when I was old enough, I was one of her instructors, teaching basic ballet and tap to the little ones. She left it to me when she died a couple years ago.” Her eyes misted. “I was the only one in the family that ever had her passion for dance. I was the logical choice, I guess.” She didn’t want to go into her family history and left it at that.

“Wow. And you’ve kept it going all this time? That’s quite a feat, Gia.”

Her cheeks heated as she looked at him, the chemistry between them palpable. “It hasn’t been easy, that’s for sure. I only have two teachers left, and they work part-time. I’m pretty much the head honcho around here.”

“How do you manage your other work? You know, as Marilyn.” His face showed genuine concern.

“My Marilyn gigs help with the rising costs of the studio. I wish I could just be a dance instructor and call it a day, but…” She shrugged.

“But you’re a responsible adult with her own business. It’s impressive, Gia. You’re impressive.”

She forced air out of her nose, suppressing a nervous chuckle and looked at the floor. She didn’t realize he had crossed the space between them until his fingertips cupped her chin and she raised her head, looking at him with wide eyes, holding her breath.

“You impress me,” he reiterated in a whisper.

“You already said that,” she replied, watching him smile and lick his lips. She suddenly wished he would lean down and press his gorgeous mouth against hers, the very thought catching her off guard.

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