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to.”
    A small smile curved her pink lips and he bit back a groan thinking of how badly he wanted to put that smile in a whole new context. “Okay,” she said softly, turning to continue their long journey down the stairs. “For Lacey. But you have to be on your best behavior.”
    “You have my word,” he said. And he meant it. Mostly.

Chapter Four
     
     
    Riley grabbed her water bottle and tried to catch her breath. Dance class had been brutal tonight. Around her the other dancers were bent at the waist, trying to pull precious oxygen into their lungs.
    This was what Riley loved about dance. Jazz. Modern. Ballet. Ballroom. She loved it all. It was hard. Pounding. Demanding. A brutal reminder of what her body could do when she pushed it to its limits. It made her feel alive.
    Alysse , her instructor, crossed the room and threw a towel to Riley. “You were on tonight, girl.”
    Riley grabbed her towel and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Alysse taught what was quickly becoming Riley’s favorite class: a mashup of jazz, hip-hop, and ballet that tested limits. “Thanks. I found my groove, I think.”
    Alysse grinned and flashed a glance over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “Listen, my dance company is having auditions next week. I’d like to see you there.”
    Riley waved away the suggestion. “Whatever, we both know I’m not the caliber dancer to go pro.” The invitation made her smile, though. Sometimes, as she danced, she imagined she could one day be the kind of dancer her mother had been…before the drugs.
    Alysse raised her brow. “Yes, you are. You’re the real thing, Riley.”
    Riley frowned. “You’re serious.”
    “As a heart attack.”
    “I’m almost twenty-six,” she said, because that was middle-aged in dancer years.
    “All the more reason not to wait.” She gave a small shrug. “Listen, I’m not about the hard sell. There are plenty of beautiful dancers out there who would be great fit. It’s an opportunity I wanted you to know about. A week from Saturday, five p.m., here in the studio. What you do with that information is up to you.”
    Riley nodded. “Okay. Thanks,” she said, but she knew she wouldn’t audition. She did, though, for a moment, indulge in the fantasy of being just another girl in her twenties being given the opportunity to dance. She envied them.
    Her phone beeped, and she dug in her bag to get it. Message from Charles Spencer. She smiled. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but Chaz was thinking about her a lot right now. Good. Maybe this was just the change they needed.
    She opened her phone and read the message. Don’t be mad, but I came by the studio and watched you dance.
    Her breath caught in her throat. He’d watched her? He’d never expressed an interest in her dancing before, and she’d thought he didn’t care. In fact, it always seemed like he was trying to get her to skip dance class to do something with him, and she’d wondered if her father hadn’t told him how much he disapproved of the activity.
    The phone beeped again.
    I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the way you move. Or as sexy.
    She pulled her lower lip into her mouth. He couldn’t possibly know what that meant to her. Thank you.
    You should be on stage. Your dance is an art, meant to be shared.
    Something in the pit of her stomach warmed, and the sensation radiated through her. Maybe there was more to Chaz than she’d realized. We both know how my father would feel about that, she typed. Besides, a career in dance isn’t very profitable but for the select few. She added the last because she knew Chaz was practical, and she didn’t want him thinking she was hung up on her father’s approval.
    Who cares what your father thinks? You’re amazing, and if he’s got half a brain he’ll support you in whatever you do.
    Riley blinked. Who was this man, and what had he done with the guy she’d been dating for two years?
    And why did the change make her so