Page 8 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

“I guess I did say that. You also scare me, Gia.” He brought his hand down to his side and took a step back.

“I scare you? Why?”

It had been way too long since she had feelings for any man, let alone one as handsome and professional as Hartford Parker. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him. Most of the guys she had dated over the years were working stiffs—blue collar guys with no vision or passion for anything; content to work hard during the week and play hard on the weekends. Not that there was anything wrong with it. But Gia was a dreamer—always had been. The only time she honestly felt alive was through the power of dance. The unequivocal sensation that came over her when she moved across a floor was like flying. She was free—free from her worries. Free from her past—and her future. Her body was conditioned to be healthy, the discipline and elegance of her classical training evident in the way she moved. It was her mental conditioning she had to stay on top of, determined to be strong through the constant hard times that had become the norm in her life. If Hart knew how fragile she truly was, he would have good reason to be scared.

“You’re beautiful and mysterious. You’re also a hard-working, independent woman. It’s a rare combination in this day and age, Gia. Not a lot of guys I know could keep up with someone like you.” He shifted, putting his hands in his pockets, making his biceps flex.

“I’m not mysterious, Hart. What you see is what you get.”

He nodded slightly, his lips tugging at the corners of his mouth as if he were stifling a grin.

In order to change the subject, Gia walked briskly to the middle of the room, gesturing with her arms. “I want your honest opinion. Do you think I should bail like everyone else around here? Or do you think it’s worth it to try to keep the business afloat until the tide changes?”

“Until the tide changes? You mean until the area gets a facelift and businesses and families start moving back, living and working in the area again?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

Hart shook his head and ran his hand through his thick hair. “This is your business, Gia. It’s your decision. I don’t think it’s my place to tell you what you should do.”

“But do you have any contacts or a way to assess the area? You know, some kind of demographic survey or something to see how the area and the population has changed or if it’s getting any better. I know the crime rate has risen, and there are a lot of abandoned and foreclosed homes nearby. With your knowledge and expertise, maybe you could help a girl out?” God knows she didn’t want to scare him and come off as needy, but she was desperate to try to figure out her next steps.

“I suppose I could do some research for you, on one condition.”

A flicker of hope ignited in her chest as she watched him saunter toward her. “What?”

When he was merely a foot from her, he stopped, his expression soft. “Dance for me,” he whispered.

Gia exhaled, aware that her cheeks felt hot.

“Please. Dance for me? Show me what you’re passionate about.”

She looked up at him, and her breath hitched, knowing she was going to do it. She was going to dance for him. No other man had ever made such a request before. No other man ever really cared that much about her passion. The fact that he politely asked her to reveal her true-self ignited a flame in her belly.

“Okay.” She strode toward the door leading to the back of the studio before she changed her mind. “Give me a minute to change. If you could please turn on the stereo and cue the music to track three on the CD, I’d appreciate it.” Once she was through the doorway, she palmed the other side of the door and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she whispered.

Several minutes later, Gia stepped back into the large dance space and gracefully walked to the center of the room. She had changed into a black leotard and jazz pants; her bare feet and pink toenails exposed. Hart was standing next to the sound system, the red “on” light indicating he had the music ready to go. She inhaled deeply and tilted her chin upward with determination. As she exhaled, she offered him a slight nod to show she was ready for him to press play.

The Ed Sheeran song, Perfect echoed through the space. Gia closed her eyes and started to move slowly to the music, aware of every delicate motion. She was graceful with each expression in the choreography, her body well-controlled, her muscles flexing, bending, and moving with fluidity all their own—like a breeze billowing a skirt. Each movement was precise, coinciding with the sexy rhythm of the song. She had been working on this piece for weeks, and Hart was the very first to lay eyes on the finished product. What started out as small and concise movement gradually changed to large sweeping gestures as she used the entire space, her whole body involved in the expressive power of the dance.

Gia was wholly engaged in the two-minute piece, ending on the floor with her supple hands reaching toward Hart. Her chest rose and fell as she took in big gulps of air after the strenuous performance, her muscles taut and burning.

He walked quickly toward her and reached with outstretched hands, gripping hers sturdily while hoisting her to her feet. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth as if he were about to say something. Instead, he shook his head and pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly. She panted, wrapping her arms slowly around his waist, not sure what to make of the gesture, his sturdy frame warm and inviting. Finally, he pulled back and slid his hands into her hair before he leaned down and made a trail of kisses across her cheek. Closing her eyes, she rested on him and felt his lips linger against hers, his tongue slipping into the seam of her mouth. She welcomed the kiss that was full of passion and intensity. And she was flying all over again.

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