Before I Do Amazon (18 page)

"I don't like to do things I'm not good at."

"That's how you get better. You keep doing the things you're not good at and then you get good."

"There's also such a thing as talent."

"Talent only makes up a very small percentage of a successful person. Desire, determination and perseverance are usually what separates the 'almost there' person from the one who makes it all the way to the top."

"I believe that, too," he admitted. "But I'm not trying to get to the top of the dance world; I'm just hoping not to step on your feet or look like a fool."

"You won't step on my feet or look like a fool. I won't let that happen."

"I'm very glad you're coming with me."

With Isabella as his partner, all eyes would naturally be drawn to her. As long as he didn't screw up completely, he should be able to dance well enough to get Juan Carlos to sign on the dotted line.

"I'm excited about the trip and a little scared."

"You're worried because of your father?"

She nodded. "I spoke to my mother last night. She filled me in on more details of their marriage, including the fact that my dad apparently went to jail when I was in high school for embezzling funds from his employer to fund his substance abuse problems."

"I'm sorry. Did you have any idea?"

"About his going to jail—that was a shock. The substance abuse problems I kind of figured were part of why my parents split up. I overheard some conversations between my mother and my aunt over the years that led me to believe he was a big drinker."

"How does your mother feel about you going to Argentina?"

"She hates the idea, but she understands that it's my decision to make. I still haven't decided if I will try to speak to my father. My mom did give me my aunt's phone number. I can use it or not."

"Would you really be able to go all the way to Argentina and not look him up?" Nick asked doubtfully. "Aren't you the woman who just lectured me about the importance of family?"

"I don't think it was a lecture."

"You know what I mean."

"Your father has always been in your life, Nick. As much as you hate his interference, he's there interfering. My father abandoned me. I haven't seen him since I was thirteen. He wouldn't recognize me if we passed on the street. It's different for me than for you. I don't know what condition my father is in, or if he has any interest in reconnecting. He certainly hasn't made any effort on his end. And maybe he doesn't deserve to see me, to know how I've grown up, what I've done with my life. Why should I put myself out there when he's never shown any interest in me?"

You're making a good argument for not looking him up. It might be better to leave it alone. You have to look at the ROI."

"The what?" she asked in confusion.

"Return on investment. You'd be investing your heart in this reunion. You have a lot to lose if it doesn't go well. Your father doesn't have anything to lose. He was an adult when he walked away from you. He made a conscious choice. You were a child. You didn't have a choice then, but you have one now."

"It might be the hardest decision I've ever had to make."

"Speaking of decisions…any other thoughts on taking the stage again?"

She gave a little sigh. "I told the Tylers I'd tell them on Monday. I'm giving myself a few days to think about it."

He pulled up in front of the hotel. As he got out of the car, he handed his keys to the valet and said, "I'll be about an hour."

"It must be nice to have so many people do your bidding," Isabella said lightly as they walked into the hotel.

"Actually, we offer valet parking to anyone who wants it," he returned.

"You know that's not what I meant. You live a big life. Mine is small in comparison."

"It's only small if you want it to be. If you don't, change it."

"You make it sound easy."

"It's definitely
not
easy. Nothing that's good is ever easy."

She laughed.

"What did I say?" he asked warily.

"You should remember what you just said when we start dancing."

"I set myself up for that, didn't I?"

"You did."

He opened the door for her. "After you."

* * *

She didn't know what had changed between the last tango lesson and this one, but Nick was the most relaxed she'd ever seen him.

"Did you have a lot to drink tonight?" she asked as they finished running through the first set of steps.

He laughed at the question. "I wouldn't have driven if I had drunk too much, so no."

"You're not as tense as you have been in the past."

"I'm starting to feel more confident. Let's try it with the music this time."

"All right." She turned on the music, then came back to him.

He pulled her into their starting position with the confidence he'd just mentioned, his hands holding hers with a firmness that told her he was ready to lead. They waited through a couple of beats, and then Max took the first step.

It was clear within minutes that he hadn't just improved a little but a lot. There were a few stumbles, and he swore under his breath after one screwed-up combination, but he didn't quit. He recovered and he kept going and when the music ended, she was breathless and happy.

"That's the first time we've made it all the way to the end," she said, impulsively putting her arms around him to give him a hug.

Nick returned the hug. When it should have ended, he held on. His blue eyes met hers. The emotions of the night, of the dance, swirled in each heated breath. The triumph in his gaze turned to desire. His lips tightened. His head slowly lowered.

The first touch of his lips against hers was a small spark that lit the explosiveness of the next kiss. He pulled her body up hard against his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his hard chest against her soft breasts, his legs moving between hers, until she could feel every glorious male inch of him.

She moved her hands up and down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his shirt. It wasn't enough, so she pulled frantically on the material until it came free of his belted slacks. His skin was hot to her impatient fingers. She felt like he was burning up, and so was she. There was a fever between them that had been brewing for weeks.

This was no small attraction. This was a deep-rooted need that came from her heart, maybe her soul, and it was exhilarating and terrifying.

She needed to stop kissing him, stop touching him, stop wanting him…

But she couldn't find the strength. One more kiss, one more touch, one more minute.

A door burst open. Someone exclaimed something in Spanish.

She lifted her head in a daze, Nick doing the same.

She saw a crew of workers scurrying back out the door.

"Cleaning crew," Nick muttered, gazing back down at her. "We should take this somewhere else."

"Or maybe not." She licked her lips. "I don't think we should do this now." She stepped out of his embrace. It was a lot easier to think when he wasn't touching her. "It's late. I should go home. I have classes all day tomorrow, and we have to go to Argentina in a few days."

"Yeah," he said, a grim note to his voice. "All right. I'll take you back to your apartment, if you're sure that's what you want."

She couldn't pretend that she hadn't heard the challenge in his voice. She licked her lips, feeling nervous and tense and not at all sure of what she wanted to happen next. Taking things further with Nick would no doubt be amazing. Maybe a few years ago, she wouldn't have thought that much about it. But she'd gotten more cautious since Carter, unwilling to invest more than the other person was investing, and with Nick she had no idea if he was willing to invest anything more than a few hours of fun.

"I think it's the best decision for now," she said.

"I thought you were the woman who lived in the moment, and I was the one who thought too much."

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me," she said lightly.

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me," he grumbled. "Because every time you kiss me, I stop thinking completely."

"I think you kissed me," she countered.

He smiled. "You want to argue about it?"

Arguing and fighting seemed the less dangerous choice. "Just pointing out the facts. Anyway…" She walked over to the stereo system and unplugged her player. When she glanced back at Nick, he was tucking his shirt back into his pants, reminding her of just how much she'd liked touching him and how much she wanted to see him without that shirt and without those pants. Another breath of frustration escaped her lips.

Nick met her gaze and amusement flashed through his eyes. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Damn him.

"So," she said, needing to change the subject. I think you're ready for Argentina, Nick."

"Tonight was a lot better, but I wouldn't say I'm ready. I still made a lot of mistakes."

"Not as many as last time, and you did better once you stopped worrying about being perfect and just danced. If you do that again for your business associate, he'll be satisfied."

"Satisfied, huh? That will make one of us."

And just like that they were back to the potent and inconvenient chemistry between them.

"What am I going to do about you, Isabella?"

"In a few days you'll say goodbye," she told him.

"Is that what you want to happen?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. She couldn't really imagine not seeing Nick again, not talking to him, or spending time with him, or kissing him again. "We live in different worlds. We both have a lot going on. I have some big decisions to make about my career, the studio, the direction I want my future to take. Those decisions all have the potential to change my life in a huge way. Part of me just wants to say no to everything because what I know, what I have, is good enough."

"And the other part of you?"

"Wants more. I want to risk it all, to be the woman I used to be—completely fearless."

"That's the woman you should be, Isabella. Your aunt told me you were born to fly, and that buying the studio would be like tying a ball and chain around your legs. That's why I made sure you got to that audition. I want to help you, but I don't want to be your ball and chain."

"Even if I were asking you to be?"

"Even then. You've forced me to look at my life differently the past few days. Maybe you should do the same."

"How are you looking at your life now?" she asked, wondering what he meant by his words.

"Like something that isn't as complete as I thought it was."

"So you want more, too."

"I always want more. Wanting more isn't my problem. Wanting the right things is a different story."

"So what happens next? What happens after you get your resort in Argentina?"

"I haven't thought beyond Argentina. It's been my driving goal for a decade."

"A goal you're going to reach in a few days," she reminded him.

"If I successfully dance the tango."

"You will. I won't let you fail. It's time to start thinking about what's next."

"You're right. Looks like we both have some decisions to make." He paused. "I'll take you home now, and in case you're wondering or worrying, I won't ask to come up, and you won't invite me in."

"I won't?" She couldn't help questioning his authoritative tone.

"No." He put his finger under her chin and tipped her gaze up to meet his. "The next time we kiss, we're not going to stop, Isabella. I think we both know that."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. She was tempted to kiss him right now and see what would happen…but the risk-taking part of her personality was still not quite ready to come out.

Chapter Fifteen

Isabella didn't see Nick on Thursday. Her day was filled with back-to-back classes and discussions with contractors. The studio repairs were on hold until Monday when Isabella would be forced to make a decision to either buy her aunt out or let the studio go to Karen Halley. The more she learned about the costs of running the studio, the more she realized that if she chose to take over the studio, her life would be more about management and business than about dancing.

She could hire a manager to take care of some of it, but it would still take up a lot of her time. She needed to factor that in to her decision.

She'd also received a script from the Tylers with a box of Godiva chocolates, her favorite, and a personal note from Donna expressing how much they wanted her to be part of the show. They planned on rewriting the featured role to emphasize her particular talents if she agreed to take it on.

She'd never had a producer go to so much trouble to get her in a show, and she couldn't deny that she was more than a little flattered and very, very tempted.

But at the moment, all those decisions were on hold until after Argentina.

On Friday afternoon, a limo picked her up a little after three o'clock in the afternoon and drove her to San Francisco International Airport. Nick was waiting for her in his luxurious private plane.

Her jaw dropped when she entered the plane. She'd never even flown first-class before, so a private plane was beyond her wildest dreams. The plush leather seats and tables made her feel like she was walking into someone's living room.

Nick was sitting at a table for four talking to Martin. They both had their computers open, and it was clear they were working. But as soon as Nick saw her, he stopped in mid-sentence and jumped to his feet, a smile spreading across his lips and a welcoming sparkle appearing in his eyes.

"Isabella," he said. "You made it."

"I'm here." She set down her tote bag on the nearest chair. "This is a gorgeous plane."

"Always the best for Nick," Martin cut in. "Nice to see you again, Isabella."

"You, too. I didn't realize you were coming as well." She was actually happy to see Martin, who would be a good chaperone for the fourteen-hour flight.

"Can I get you something to drink?" a steward asked her.

"I'm fine for now." She turned back to Nick. "Is anyone else coming?"

"No, it will just be the three of us," Nick replied. "Sit wherever you like. The seats at the back of the plane turn into beds, so hopefully you'll be able to sleep at some point."