At least she hadn't wasted her four years at Juilliard.

Her lips curled in the appropriate half smile, Lynn kept her shoulders soft and her eyes sparkling. Yes, she loved the idea of fusing classical ballet with a contemporary story. Yes, this was truly an opportunity to be on the cutting edge of her profession and her art, a perfect comeback vehicle for a ballerina of her reputation.

Thinking of six solo duets, she squelched a sudden, vicious need for chocolate and sipped her Perrier under Dominic's watchful and guileless eyes. The brilliant and sought after choreographer was cataloguing every move she made.

"Each one will be a story arc of strength and characterization of ‘a modern woman'." Dominic used his hands in air quotes then gulped another swallow of his cognac. The tiny diamond on his pinky winked at her in the dim intimate light of the bar. "Lovers and enemies, friends, foes. I have the main steps outlined, but you know how it goes."

"Of course." Lynn kept smiling while relief threatened to melt her. The contracts had been signed; she was the prima for the Pas De Deux production. After nearly two years of recovery, she would be back onstage, and all the sacrifices wouldn't be for nothing.

"You do know Pavel Zolotov signed on."

She kept her smile firm even if every nerve inside in her body stiffened. "It will be good to see him."

"I'm counting on it." Shrewd grey eyes watched for even the smallest signal of disgust.

Lynn took another fortifying sip of water and wished like hell for chocolate. Zolotov had broken her heart as publicly as possible, using her naïveté to elevate his own exposure. And started her tradition of pre rehearsal one night stands.

"Darling, if it's a problem—"

She peeled her lips back in a wider smile. "That was what, seven, eight years ago?" She tried a charming, elegant shrug. "We're both professionals."

"We'll start off slow." Dominic drank his cognac with flair. "I figure—" He stopped mid word, raised his eyebrows at something over her left shoulder. "Helloooow there."

Curiosity beat down manners, but when Lynn turned she didn't see what he was looking at.

"Tall and dark and Puerto Rican walking into—of all the joints—this bar. A bodyguard, excuse me, ‘security specialist'." Dom's diamond sparkled with another set of air quotes. "Mateo something. I met him at a party when that opera diva was in town." He leaned closer to whisper. "When a man looks like that—" His hand fluttered dramatically over his chest. "Just like Whitney and a hot Latin Kevin Costner."

She snorted, couldn't help it. A glance up at the mirrored ceiling showed the Latin Kevin Costner hunched over a drink sitting in a booth just behind her.

"What was I saying?" With occasional glances over her shoulder, Dominic pushed awa ...

clear=all>]]> Thu, 02 Sep 2010 59:09:24 GMT http://www.ebook-eros.com/cgi-bin/item/parent-9780758238993 Thu, 02 Sep 2010 59:09:24 GMT
Chapter One
"Good morning, Mr. Gentry," Lydia said as Dane Gentry of the Gentry, Anderson & Dailey Law Firm strode through the door, a scowl marring his handsome face.
A grunt seemed to sum up what he thought of her chipper greeting. One thing Lydia had learned over the two years since coming to work for Dane, the man hated mornings. "Coffee's on your desk and here's your schedule for the day." She handed him the printout. If it were possible, his frown deepened as he looked her over.
"What time did you get here?"
She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and said, "Uh, five, Mr. Gentry. I had a few things to catch up on."
He rubbed his jaw. "Do I pay you overtime?"
Lydia was so confused by his question she just sat there, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Lydia, answer the question. It wasn't that hard."
"No, sir, you don't. I'm salary."
"Then it makes no sense to work overtime, now does it?"
"I suppose not, but I needed to finish up some research."
Dane shook his head. "You work too much."
Lydia was beginning to feel a spark of anger. She liked her job, but there were days when working for three lawyers really was a joke. "Are you complaining about my performance, Mr. Gentry?"
He frowned. "Of course not, but you put in way too many hours."
"Someone had to finish the research. I don't have a magic wand here ... sir," she said, allowing a hint of sarcasm to seep into her voice.
Her boss leaned across the desk, coming way too close for comfort, and whispered, "You have a very smart mouth, Lydia. One of these days it'll get you into trouble."
Lydia tamped down the urge to move her chair closer, to inhale his clean masculine scent. She'd always had a weakness for Dane. He was so tall and broad shouldered. His messy dark hair with the little curl at the collar always made her want to reach out and play with it. Deep brown eyes watched her with an intensity that had her feeling as if someone had jacked up the temperature. It was no wonder he had so many female clients. She thought of his statement and answered, "There are times when I find my quick wit to be rather helpful, Mr. Gentry."
"Dane," he gritted out. "Will you ever call me Dane?"
...

clear=all>]]> Thu, 02 Sep 2010 59:09:24 GMT http://www.ebook-eros.com/cgi-bin/item/parent-9780373605453 Thu, 02 Sep 2010 59:09:24 GMT

Lily had walked past the shoe shop a hundred times. On her way to work at the flower shop early every morning, wearing shabby jeans and baseball boots that were worn the same color as the pavement, she'd walk fast and barely glance at the shiny, chichi window display. She didn't need to see heart breaker heels and designer bags that would cost her a month's wages.
For the past six weeks, though, she'd found herself swiveling on her heel and turning to look at a particular display.
The window stretched high above her head, the plate glass polished so bright it reflected her image like a mirror. But Lily wasn't looking at herself. Her gaze was totally transfixed on the shoes. Glossy, cherry red, skyscraper high, patent leather fuck me shoes that made her heart beat faster just looking at them. They had deep curves and a dangerous heel and they stood center stage on a podium by themselves, proud, shockingly beautiful and insanely unaffordable. They made Lily's mouth water. She could almost taste the red of them.
Once, she'd approached the door, got close enough to feel the cool hum of air conditioned air on her face. And then she'd checked herself. Girls with ratty hair and dirt under their chipped varnish nails didn't enter shops like that. Not without a motorcycle helmet and a package under their arm. Not in a million years.
While she was at work, emptying buckets of stinking slime water and slicing the stems of stargazer lilies, Lily let her imagination wander. In those shoes, she'd be able to walk anywhere—up red carpets and through gilded palaces, across Hollywood Boulevard and down the Champs Élysées. She'd be a shameless scarlet bombshell, and take no shit from anyone. Her hips would swing and her lips would pout and men would fall at her feet.
And then her boss, Margie, yelled at her for daydreaming, and Lily snapped out of it and got on with the cold, dirty, green stained work of the day.
It was the first Saturday in May. The city was full of mist that crawled lazily up the streets and muffled the edges of the morning. Dragging herself reluctantly to work, Lily walked past the siren red shine of the shoes, and drifted to the window to gaze at her unreachable dreams through half an inch of bulletproof glass.
"You like them."
Lily nearly fell on her ass. A man had appeared, silently, in the shop doorway. He wore a black shirt and trousers the color of champagne. His face was taut and unlined, and his smile barely tweaked the corners of his mouth.
"I was just looking," Lily said, backing away.
...

clear=all>]]> Thu, 02 Sep 2010 59:09:24 GMT