Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) (18 page)

B
ret sat in front of the television in Kuwait, his marines around him. The familiar theme song blasted through the speakers.

“Come on, man, do we have to watch this crap? The fight is on,” a corporal yelled.

Bret’s eyes remained glued to the screen. “I’ll switch in a few. This is the only way I can see my wife.”

“Welcome to
Dancing under the Stars.
This season we will thrill with our best lineup ever, including a heavy metal drummer, an Olympic figure skater, and an Academy Award winning actor. But first, a showcase of our professionals,” the host said.

The ladies hit the stage. Not much had changed—
Vika, Nicole, Elizabeth, and Jenny were still there. There was a new girl also, some knockout with long, black hair. Bret was sure that Dima already had his eyes set on her, since his affair with Laura had already fizzled out.

Ray leaned over to Bret. “You realize you are an idiot for ree
nlisting right? You could be back on that stage in a year.”

“Not a chance man. I got what I wanted.”

Had he ever. His total prize money with endorsements had equaled $250,000. He had donated it all to Pierce’s family. They couldn’t believe it. Pierce’s wife Kimberly initially refused to accept the money. She eventually gave in and used the money to purchase a home and set up college funds for her children.

The only item Bret kept from the show was his truck. And he had made peace with that decision.

“That samba was choreographed by former
Dancing under the Stars
champion, Selena Lord.”

The camera panned to Selena, who sat in the audience. She looked beautiful. Dressed in a mint-colored wrap dress that showed off her tiny baby bump. She blew a kiss to the camera, and Bret knew that it was meant for him.

She had settled into her new life better than Bret had expected. They’d had a small wedding ceremony on the beach in Bolinas, with just their families, Pierce’s family, Jenny, Ray, Xavier, and Robyn in attendance. After a one-week honeymoon to Lana’i, they’d returned to Camp Pendleton. Selena had put her Hollywood Hills home on the market, and they’d purchased a home in Laguna Niguel. Now Selena taught at a local dance studio, even as she choreographed Xavier’s new tour and this new season of
Dancing under the Stars
.

A week before Bret had deployed they’d found out that Selena was pregnant. His deployment would only be five months, so he’d be back in time for the birth.

He rubbed his titanium wedding band. Though he wished he could be with her, he was happy to be serving alongside his men. Selena would be waiting for him when he returned and he was going to be a father.

He had everything he’d ever wanted.

Bret reached out and flipped the channel. “Enough samba for one day. Time for some UFC.”

The End

Read on for an excerpt from:

Waltz on the Wild Side

Dancing under the Stars: Book 2

Alana Albertson

Excerpt

“
Vika Brooks here for Tony Zave.” Vika buzzed in at the security gate as she rolled up in her brand new custom made Salsa Red Jaguar F-Type convertible with black leather interior, a present from her husband Benny after she placed in second place at nationals.

So far the new season had been awful.
Vika still couldn’t believe she had to dance the opening that Selena choreographed. If one more person made a comment about Selena’s pregnancy glow, Vika would scream. And Benny was spending a tad too much time mentoring, Elizabeth. Not that Vika was jealous or anything. But none of that mattered—because Vika was dancing with Tony Zave! Tony was the drummer of Möxie Cörps, her favorite band growing up. She even saw them at the Moscow Music and Peace festival when she was eight.

Tony
Zave was now a reality TV star and the network was forcing him to do
Dancing under the Stars
in exchange for allowing him to produce his own reality show,
Metal God
, where he would find a lead singer to front his new band. Vika was ecstatic to dance with him. Benny had made all of her dreams come true. It was amazing what a dirty old man would do to keep his gorgeous young wife happy.

Tony didn’t even know that he was about to dance with her. In fact, one website even leaked that he would be paired with Jenny. Couldn’t believe he didn’t drop out after learning that.

The cameras were following Vika so they could capture Tony’s reaction. And where better to film her than in front of his palace. She saw it once on an episode of MTV’s Cribs. This dude even had a Starbucks in his house! And Vika loved macchiatos.

She spent all day getting ready. Her toes were freshly painted because she did research online and found out that Tony had a s
erious foot fetish. They might as well look nice since he would be staring at them all day. She called her hairdresser, and he came over in the morning to add some pink extensions to her platinum blonde locks and curled her hair to get the perfect bombshell look that all of Tony’s women had. Like beautiful sports cars, Tony always upgraded his women; he once was married to Hillary Lancaster, his ‘85 model, the star of television shows
Montrose Square, Houston,
and
A.B. Hudson
, then he wed Penelope Andrews, his ’96 model, the former
Babewatch
beauty and Playboy pinup. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to drive Vika’s engine. She was off-limits.

The cameramen signaled for her to begin her ascent to Tony’s house. She gunned the Jag and whipped up the half-mile driveway.

A vast array of motorcycles and cars were parked outside the house. Wow! He had the Thomas Carlini-designed Hummer H2, with hand-painted artwork along the body of the vehicle. Benny and Vika loved his art—not that anyone wanted to believe there was more to her than a chiseled body and cover girl face. Heaven forbid!

The cameraman beckoned for her to enter. She strategically pieced out some wisps to frame her face,
then adjusted her implants. Ready.

A maid greeted her at the door and she was led into Tony’s abode.
Vika was surprised—for all the gaudy castle crap on the exterior, Tony’s inside walls were decorated with class. The maid ushered her over to the Starbucks.

“Mr.
Zave will be with you in a few moments.”

Yes, ma’am.
Vika almost saluted. Kind of formal for a metal head’s maid.

She ordered herself a tall, iced,
skim, caramel macchiato, layered not stirred, then sat down on a black leather couch in the middle of the room. The windows across from her looked out on a swimming pool waterfall and a serene koi pond complete with a white swan. So cool. Vika loved swans. Reminded her of her favorite ballet, Swan Lake. Her baba took her to see it when the Bolshoi came to Odessa. She felt Zen.

“No freaking way!”

Vika nearly spilled the macchiato on her pants when Tony screamed behind her.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be my partner,” he said, lea
ping right over the back of the couch and onto the cushion next to her. “TMZ said this morning that I was dancing with Jenny Ming. This is awesome!”

Vika
laughed. “Nice to meet with you, Tony.”

He grinned like a schoolboy. “Seriously, I was praying that I would get you. We’re totally
gonna win.”

She stopped and stared at Tony’s shirt. His white tee had an i
llustration of a ballroom dancing couple and a screwdriver. The shirt read, “Screw Dancing, Let’s Screw!”

“Nice shirt,” she said.

“What, don’t like it?” He licked his luscious lips.

“I didn’t say that.”

He let his eyes slide down her body then up again. “I’ll take it off later if you’re a good girl.”

Sounded good to
Vika. This Greek God of a man was 6’5” inches of perfection. At forty, he was sexier now than he was in his twenties. His tousled brown mane was lightly highlighted and framed his perfect bone structure. Her eyes dropped to his crotch and Vika couldn’t help herself as she fondly remembered the home porno movie that he and his ex-wife Penelope made. Benny and Vika had watched it in a hotel room once, after a competition. Ten inches, baby. Lucky Penelope. Benny had like four inches and he rarely got hard, at least not without first popping Viagra. Maybe Tony and Vika could make their own video. Hmmm, the cameras were on now. . .

Focus,
Vika, focus.
“Antoshka, it’s good to see you’re in dancing spirit.”

“Ann-toe-
sh-ka?”

“It’s Russian nickname for Anthony. Like “Tony” in English.”

“I like it.” He smirked and pulled her to her feet. “Vika. I want to show you how committed I am to this show.” He put his hands on her hips and did some hip-hop maneuver, probably left over from his brief musical foray into rap/rock. Then he stopped and just let his hands sit on her hips. “You are so smoking hot, baby.”

Oh, good God, this was her puberty fantasy coming true!
Benny, Benny, Benny
…. Yeah, that would calm a girl’s libido in a heartbeat. “Thanks, Antoshka. So, we must get started. I hear Dolla and Jenny will practice eight hours a day. We must beat them. Dolla wants to win. You know that he’s the former dancer and he recently ran marathon in New York. He’s committed.”

“Yeah, that dude’s crazy. I love
Dolla. We party in the Hamptons together. But there’s no way they can win if I am dancing with you.” Tony winked at her. She got hot in places the camera couldn’t see.

“So,” she reluctantly wiggled out of his hands, “where are we going to practice? The producers told me that you don’t want to practice at studio?”

“Naw, Vika. I want to stay at home so I can be near my babies.”

Babies? No one mentioned anything to her about having his babies around. She assumed they’d be living with their mother. The kids would probably be running around disrupting their r
ehearsals.

“But don’t worry, babe. I’ve got us covered.” Tony’s eyes gli
stened. “Vika, I built a dance studio!”

“You
built
one? In here?”

“Yeah. It’s sick. I’m
gonna try really hard. I don’t want to let you down.”

Love the dedication.

Behind his big brown eyes, Tony looked just like a little boy trying to find his way. He was a Libra, Vika knew, which meant he simply existed for being in love. And Vika was an Aries, so they were astrological opposites, everything she had he lacked and vice versa. Perfect match—if it weren’t for Benny, of course. Hillary, a Leo, was so selfish and focused on her career and wouldn’t give him the family he desired. And Penelope, a Cancer, completely ignored him after she gave birth to their sons.  Anyone could play a diva on TV or put on a red bathing suit and run slowly on a beach—but it took a lot of dedication and hard work to be a two-times United States Rising Star Professional Latin-American Dancesport Champion.

“Okay.
Antoshka,” she twirled Tony around so he was facing her and made sure her good side was toward the camera, “we’re gonna start today with rumba. Our first dance is actually mambo, but rumba is basis for all Latin dances. Rumba is dance of love. It was created in Cuba, back when women wore veils and they couldn’t talk to men so their only communication was through dance.” She seductively swayed her hips back and forth.

Tony laughed. “That’s crazy. That would suck not to be able to talk to a chick and instead have to do a dance. I’m so glad that I didn’t live in Cuba then.” He picked up the couch arm cover and held it across his face. “Though I do dig veils. She’s still a my
stery, you know? I was at the Seventh Veil last night.” He started wiggling like some kind of belly dancer, waving his “veil” around.

Uh huh . .
. . Vika could see this would be a long day. The guy couldn’t pay attention. At least she knew what the Seventh Veil was. It was a strip club that Möxie Cörps had made famous in its 1989 hit, “Chicks, Chicks, Chicks.” Tony hadn’t seen a thing yet. Vika could turn him on more fully clothed than those tramps could wearing only crystal encrusted thongs. Believe her, she knew. Vika used to be one of those girls.

Time to focus. “
Antoshka, here, put down veil.” She pulled it out of his hands. “Now listen. You have to pretend that you love me. That you want me, lust for me, dream of me. That every time you think you have me, I leave.”

“I can totally relate to that, dude. Let’s do this.” He threw her over his back and carried her into the new dance studio. The ca
meraman nearly tripped over the couch racing after them with the camera.

Vika
patted Tony’s butt as they turned the corner. “Good boy.”

He flipped her down on one of the sofas that he had put in the “studio.” This studio was unlike any that
Vika had ever seen. It had a hardwood floor as one would expect, but it was jet-black maple—hardly a ballroom standard. And there were crazy crimson pentagrams on the ceiling, with black velvet curtains ensconcing the windows. He had also put in a BOSE sound system.

After she fastened her heels, she slowly stood up and made sure Tony was looking at her. It was time for teacher to take charge of her student. She gracefully slipped her navy Juicy Couture sweat suit off her body, pausing as she peeled it off her tight bottom. T
ony was mesmerized. Underneath, she was wearing nude fishnets, black skin-tight cotton boy shorts—with her cheeks slightly hanging out ever so tastefully—and a fitted, black, ribbed Möxie Cörps tank top with hot pink writing, her cleavage spilling over the top. The cameraman lay on the ground to get a better shot.

Vika
was getting paid for this? It was too easy.

“You know,”
Tony said, “I was thinking we could dance to ‘Take My Breath Away’ from
Top Gun
. I can add a new drum track and make it wicked. I love that movie. I can dress like Maverick.”

Vika
paused. “
Top Gun
?” Lame. Tony was stuck in the eighties. “It’s good idea, Antoshka,” she lied. “But if we do that, producers will make us go to military base for one of their stupid clips.” Last season, she had to go to a rodeo so that her celebrity could better understand the paso doble. Vika stepped in horse shit. Twice.

“That would be awesome
!,” Tony said. “I’ve done a ton of shows on bases. I have nothing but respect for the men and women in our military.”

How sweet. Who would’ve guessed he’d be so patriotic? “Sure, okay. That’s great idea.” She pointed to the floor in front of her. “On your feet, warrior. It’s time to move those toes.”

She started the arduous task of training his feet. Tony was tall and gangly, but he had rhythm, which helped. And despite her original fear that he’d be hard to keep focused, he was a really hard worker. Luckily, it was easier for the male celebrities on the show because the girl dancers could just dance around the men while they stood there.

Liking his early promise, she decided to get to the goods. “All right. We’re
gonna start with walks. In rumba, we walk on two, three, four, and we hold one. Like this.” She played Michael Jackson’s song ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You’ on repeat and started doing rumba walks around the floor. “Keep your legs straight, your shoulders still, and don’t worry about your hips right now.”

Tony clod-hopped around the floor.
Then again
… she put her hands on his shoulders and pressed them down.

“Point your toes, ankles together.
Davai, Antoshka
.” Dolla probably already had it perfect. “Keep your feet on ground.”

“I’m trying,
Vika.” His hips were jetting side to side and his feet kept flicking off the floor.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “
Antoshka. You look like duck. Smile, keep your back straight, chest open.”

They worked on the same thing for the next hour. The camera guy dozed off on the couch.

After she restarted “Just Can’t Stop Loving You” for the umpteenth time, Tony stopped cold. “Vika? Can we take a break?”