Lovers' Dance (8 page)

“Oh, poppet,” he murmured softly when he read about her parents’ untimely death. “Jesus, Nathan, she was only six when her parents died.”

“I read the file. I know all about her, and did you fucking call her poppet?”

Matt ignored him, as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He picked up the file, reading it and walked out of the kitchen. A clink of glasses came from behind him. Then an irate, “Twenty-six-years-old? You’ll be thirty-seven next month. That’s a whole decade, Matt. When you were kissing girls at twelve; she was probably still in nappies. You’re mad, mad.”

“Shut up,” Matt murmured, completely engrossed in the file as he made his way to the study. There were newspaper clippings about the accident which had claimed her parents’ lives. They were on their way out of London, a family trip to the Lake District up north, when a drunk truck driver had swerved into their lane, colliding head-on with their car. It was a miracle she had survived.

“I won’t allow this, Matt. How do you expect your family to react—”

“If you don’t shut up this instant and let me read this, I will escort you off my property,” Matt said tersely, while sitting behind his desk. There were two pages detailing her schools attended, childhood activities, part-time jobs, three on her extended family in New York. Matt raised an eyebrow. Aunt Cleo? What sort of name was that? There were photographic copies of her British passport, her American passport, her social security number.

“I can’t believe she’s British. She didn’t tell me that.”

“Well, from what you said, you didn’t do much talking,” Nathan chastised as he pulled out a chair across the desk and sank into it, the bottle of Scotch and two glasses in front of him.

“She attended the School of American Ballet. They’re quite well known,” Matt mused to himself.

“Matthew, it doesn’t matter if she attended…Look, get to the bit when she turns eighteen. Look at her net worth then. It’s page eight.”

“What does that matter?” Matt groused, flicking over a few pages. He wanted to go over in fine detail every bit of info about her, not fast forward. “She inherited almost two million pounds? Well, that’s good.”

“Look at her net worth now, page ten.”

Matt tore his gaze from the sheets of paper on his desk to level Nathan with a venomous scowl. “I don’t care what she’s worth on paper.”

Nathan’s mouth fell open, he filled his glass, tossed it back, then began to berate Matt. “Are you hearing yourself? She’s in debt, owns a dance studio in Greenwich which she put most of her money into and has a mortgage on those premises. At least she owns her house outright, a pokey little terrace—”

“You arrogant arsehole. She’s twenty-six-years-old and has her own house and business. She may be in debt, but she’s sounding pretty damned smart to me.”

Nathan poured himself another drink, tossed this one back too, then took a deep calming breath, before saying evenly, “Go to page twelve. Have a gander at that for me.”

Matt didn’t appreciate Nathan’s overreaction. He flicked a couple more pages, saying to Nathan as he did, “Mate, I never asked you to do this. You’re the one that took it upon yourself to find her and run a background check.” He paused, then queried sharply, “Who did you hire to get this info? By God, if you had some shady outfit looking into her, I swear I’ll wring your bloody neck.”

Nathan snorted in disgust over Matt’s misplaced lack of trust in him. “I used the company we always use. Everything is confidential and destroyed upon request. Read page twelve for me. Once you’ve done that, we’ll talk. I mean, I don’t have a problem that she’s black.”

Matt looked at his friend coldly. “Yes, you do, and the fuck I care if you do. Now shut up.” He turned his attention to page twelve. When he finished reading it, he rested his hands over the file, fingers laced together tightly. That was the only tell-tale sign of his sudden nervousness.

“I’m assuming you have more information on this Kincaid character. Page twelve gave me nothing more than innuendo and light suspicion. Bloody hell, Nathan, how many times have my family’s sub-companies been levied with untrue charges? I can’t even count.”

Nathan poured his third glass. This time, he poured one for Matt and slid it over to him. “I’m still looking into this Kincaid, but, Matt, please stay away from her—this girl-

“Woman.” Matt corrected tersely.

Nathan waved a hand in the air. “Fine, girl, woman, whatever. She’s got trouble written all over her. Trust me.”

Matt leaned back in his chair, his interlaced fingers now resting on his chest as he appraised his closest friend dispassionately. “Trust you? You went behind my back and ran a background check on a woman I had decided not to contact. I could’ve found her myself if I wanted to. You barge into my house with your Scotch and this file, order me to read it, and now you’re warning me to stay away from her? I love you like my own brother but, fuck you, Nathan. Did I not support you when your family were dead set against you seeing Bella?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?” Matt asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Because she’s white like us?”

“I don’t know, it just is. Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I want you to remember who you are and, bloody hell, Matt. Everyone expects you to marry Louisa. You need to forget Madison DuMont.”

Matt was tense and furious at Nathan, but he knew deep down his friend was trying to protect him. He unclasped his fingers and ran his hand wildly through his hair before groaning in frustration. “I can’t stop thinking about her. How preposterous is that? A woman I’ve known for less than twenty-four hours and she’s all I think about. Every single day. Don’t you think I’ve tried to forget about her? She’s not like us, and I don’t mean her race. We’re from different backgrounds, different social groups.” He sighed loudly. “But I can’t get her out of my head.”

Nathan topped up his glass, fidgeting with the edge of Matt’s desk. He wouldn’t meet his friend’s gaze as he asked in a solemn voice, “You like
like
her?”

“I told you I can’t stop thinking about her. What do you think?” Matt asked through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t have done this, Nathan.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help myself.” Nathan took a civilized sip from his glass. “Are you sure you like her, or do you simply want to shag her and move on? Because shagging her is fine. Get it out of your system. She’s a looker, I’ll give you that. I mean you should see her dance on that website of theirs. I’d shag her brains out if Bella wasn’t—”

“What? A website? There’s no mention of it in the file. Why didn’t you say something before?” Matt was turning on his laptop. His increasing anger at Nathan’s offensive words pushed aside at the thought of seeing her again, even if it was on a website. He did mention tartly though, “Don’t ever speak about her in such a manner in my presence again. Shag her brains out? Do you want me to hurt you?”

Nathan snorted something under his breath. Matt ignored it.

“Give me the name of her website,” Matt ordered.

“I can’t remember,” Nathan replied innocently.

Matt directed a hard look at his friend, who shrugged nonchalantly.

“Fine. I’ll Google her dance studio.” He put the name in the search engine, then showed Nathan two expressive fingers. “You twat.”

It was at the top of the search results. He double-clicked and his gut clenched sharply. The home page gave the basic info about their dance company. Matt clicked the galleries icon, a soft smile gracing his lips as he scrolled through the pictures. There weren’t as many as he’d like of her. Most were of students, costumes, ballet shoes, their premises. Nathan got up to stand behind him. “Hit that icon right there. The website needs work. They probably couldn’t afford to have it professionally done. Some of the links are—”

“Will you shut up,” Matt hissed as he clicked on the icon Nathan had pointed out. It brought up a list of past productions. He clicked on the most recent, then sat in awe as he watched his dark beauty dance to a classical piece from the Nutcracker. His eyes followed her movements over the screen, barely paying attention to the other dancers.

“My God, she’s amazing,” he whispered. “Nathan, look at her. That’s incredible.”

“I’ve seen it already, Matt.”

“Yes, but still—”

“You should see the video of them dancing to modern music,” Nathan interrupted, closely observing his friend’s demeanour. “The dross these young people listen to, no appreciation for real music. Come out of that link and go to the street dancing one. You’ll see why I said I wouldn’t mind shagging her, too.”

Matt’s head snapped around. Nathan put a little space between them in case Matt took a swing at him. He looked angry enough to do it. Nathan chuckled. He’d never seen his friend act possessive over anyone. Nathan’s humour disappeared almost instantaneously. If Matt was reacting strongly now…maybe he shouldn’t have located her. Maybe his interference was a mistake.

Matt clicked the link, the beat of a song he’d never heard pumping out of the laptop. His eyes widened as he watched the movements of the dancers on the screen. He watched her, and his body instinctively reacted to her dancing. She was limber, hips shaking in a manner that made him want to… He cleared his throat, there was something lodged in it. Who knew a person could choke on lust? Matt shifted in his seat, hunching over slightly to hide the growing bulge in his khaki pants. He cleared his throat again before clicking on the website’s blog page. Better not to watch her dancing like that; later, when he was alone. Yes, later.

“It says here there’s an upcoming snap dance? What’s snap dance?” Matt queried, feeling old. “Is this a new craze or something?”

“I thought so, too, but, if you scroll down to past blogs and click the link—wait, click that one—no, the one before it. Snap dance in Euston.”

Matt clicked the link. A video of the busy station popped up. He looked over his shoulder at Nathan. “It’s a video of inside Euston station.”

“Wait for it. Watch the crowds, see how the camera’s focusing on the entrance to the Underground.”

Matt turned his attention back to the screen. He didn’t have to wait long. A masked group of ladies in ballet costumes came running out, startling the surrounding crowds who started gaping at them in curiosity. They began to dance in the middle of the station, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. It went on for about ten minutes before security began to appear. The surrounding people were clapping loudly as the tutu-wearing women dispersed, darting through the crowds as they made their escape. A policeman gave chase to one, but she leaped over someone’s suitcase and nimbly evaded capture. The picture faded out with the words: ‘Bringing dance to the people.’

“How delightfully interesting.” Matt decided he was intrigued by this woman he’d saved. “It says here there’s an upcoming snap dance this Friday. What an unusual name to call it—”

“I thought so myself,” Nathan agreed as he moved back to his seat. “I know what you’re thinking, Matt.”

“What am I thinking?” Matt asked lightly, scrolling through the website. He made a mental note of their opening hours. It would come in useful in the future.

“You’re planning on seeing her again.”

“So what if I am? I don’t see how that concerns you, especially since you’re the one responsible for this mountain of information I’m looking at.”

Nathan’s face twisted into a scowl. “I wouldn’t have looked for her if I had known she was—”

“Was what, Nathan?” Matt asked in that same relaxed tone.

Nathan wasn’t fooled for a second. He noticed the flash of temper in Matt’s eyes and amended his answer. “So young.”

“She’s twenty-six, not sixteen,” Matt shot back. And his sweet virgin, he added mentally. He flicked through the file again, finding that picture of her. He was going to make her his. Madison DuMont was his, she just didn’t know it yet.

“Matt,” Nathan warned. “I know that look on your face.”

Matt smiled. “Don’t worry, Nathan. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Huh.” Nathan snorted, shaking his head. “Just to be clear, you’re going to shag her, buy her something nice and ridiculously expensive, then get on with your life. Right? You’re not going to deviate from the usual modus operandi.”

Matt laughed, nodding to his friend. “Yes, Nathan, I’m going to shag her and buy her something nice before continuing on with my unbearably boring life.”

“Make sure she signs a non-disclosure clause, too,” he added. “Heaven forbid this gets out. Matthew Bradley suffering from a dose of jungle fever.”

Matt lowered his brows in distaste. “Did you actually just say that?”

Nathan nodded. “That’s nothing in comparison to what the press will write if they find out. Remember the headlines nine years ago when the media found out about you and that Norwegian model? That was the reason your solicitors convinced you to draw up the clause.”

“They won’t find out,” Matt said, gaze drawn to the picture of her. “Stop worrying.”

Nathan shook his head and stood up. “I’m leaving. Bella’s parents invited us over for supper. Her father has been dropping hints about a possible engagement, future grandkids.” Nathan sighed out loud, fixing a tired blue-eyed stare on his closest friend. “We’re getting old, mate.”

Matt laughed. “Yes, we are. Thankfully, I don’t look it. You should marry Bella, she’s good for you.”