Kiss Me, Dancer by Alicia Street & Roy Street

Young beautiful dancer is posing in studio

Casey Richardson stopped correcting the drooping hands and unpointed feet of her nine- and ten-year-old students doing ronde de jambes at the barre when a man barged into her sunny mirrored studio, interrupting her Saturday morning ballet class. A man who just happened to resemble a Greek god walking the earth in jeans and silky black tee. She ignored the flush of heat going through her at the sight of this hunk and said, “Excuse me, sir, but we have a class in session.” He shot Casey an impatient glance, stunning her with teal blue eyes. Grabbed little Josh by the arm and tugged him toward the lobby. She’d seen Josh’s parents at the last dance recital, and this guy definitely was not one of them. “Wait a second,” Casey said, trying to cut him off as he made his way from the studio. “What do you think you’re doing?” He stepped past her. The classroom of students fell silent. Casey turned to them. “Same drill. Ronde de jambes. Let’s go.” She nodded to Jiao at the piano. Her accompanist went into Chopin’s Waltz in C-Sharp Minor. Casey raced out to the lobby after the man (trying not to notice he had the most splendid back she’d ever seen). Timid Josh gave him no resistance but looked like he was about to cry. Casey wasn’t about to let some pervert make off with one of her precious flock. As the hunk reached for the door handle she slipped in front of him, her back to the door, her palms pressed like stop signs against his chest. She told herself she didn’t notice the hard curve of muscle beneath her hands. Or that his face looked even better up close. “Hold it or I’ll call the police. Who are you, and what do you want with Josh?”

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