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Nick laughed again. “This is the first rehearsal. Just relax, we have plenty of time to make this beautiful. Right now, you have to be comfortable with the dance.”
Roxanne groaned. “How long did it take you to learn the waltz?”
He wasn’t going to tell her it took him maybe ten minutes to figure out the steps and the rhythm. He’d been five years old at the time and had no idea that dance would play a major role in his future life. “No one is judging me. I know what I’m doing.”
“How long?” she pressed.
“Fifteen minutes, tops,” he said with a grin. He moved to her other foot and slowly massaged the tight muscles. “But I make my living as a dancer.”
“I think I’m going to be making my living from a hospital bed.”
“Before you head to the hospital, we’ll do some more stretching exercises, then you’re going home. Ice your feet and calves, then take a nice, hot bath. If you have a Jacuzzi tub, spend some time in it. Then have a glass of wine and eat a lot of protein. Tomorrow we’re really going to get into it.”
“What were we doing today?” She stared at him incredulously.
“This was just the start, learning the steps, getting into the feel. Tomorrow you’ll see Wardrobe for your first fitting and then back here for another four hours of practice.”
She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I’m going home and curling up on the floor.” She stood and stumbled. “Ow. Ow. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, my skin hurts and my eyelashes hurt.”
Nick smiled at her performance as she limped across the floor barefoot. “Walk it off,” he said.
She glared at him. “Twenty hours a week in rehearsal, I’m going to be skin and bones when this over.”
“You’re going to be skin and bones with muscles you didn’t even know you had.” And considering how good she looked now, the extra muscle tone would make her look even sleeker and sexier.
She groaned again.
He’d had a lot of dance partners, and Roxanne was the most inexperienced he’d ever had. He was going to enjoy the challenge of whipping her into shape. And he was enjoying her. And he was thinking of ways to enjoy her more. Even though he shouldn’t be. She made him laugh.
She grabbed her tote and purse from her locker. She looked down at her feet. “My ankles are swollen. My pinky toe doesn’t look right. Is it broken?” She pushed her foot toward him.
“It looks a little pinched from being in those shoes you brought. You might want to look for a wider size.”
She grumbled. “Tomorrow I’m bringing my slippers.”
She slung her tote and purse over her shoulder and headed out the double doors to the parking lot. Nick followed her. From the way she was hobbling, he felt he needed to get her safely to her car.
The parking lot was mostly empty. She limped toward her white Prius and Nick frowned at the huge black Escalade with tinted windows parked next to it.
As she approached her car, the doors to the Escalade opened and a man and woman stepped out.
Roxanne groaned. “No. Not now.” She stopped and Nick stood next to her, every muscle tense in response to her moan.
The woman approached. She was tall and slim and dressed for success in a ruby-red pants suit and black blouse. She wore dark glasses, but even from a distance, Nick could see Roxanne was related to her. The man was also tall, with dark curly hair threaded with gray. He was a little more casual in designer jeans and a white button-down shirt.
“Darling,” the woman said as she air-kissed Roxanne.
Roxanne stepped back, avoiding her mother’s outstretched arms. “Mother.”
“You look...a bit disheveled, dear.”
Roxanne glanced around. “What are you doing here?”
From the resemblance, he knew this man was Roxanne’s father. He stood back slightly. He removed his dark glasses and studied Roxanne.
Her mother laughed. “Darling, you’ve become so cynical.”
“I wonder why.” Roxanne’s tone was dry and tart.
Roxanne mother smiled at Nick. “Hello, I’m Hannah Deveraux, Roxanne’s mother and this is Eli, her father. And you’re Nick Torres. I know all about you.” Hannah smiled pleasantly, but Nick knew he was facing a barracuda. A big hungry barracuda.
“What do you want?” Roxanne’s voice was strained.
“We haven’t spoken much the last few years, but we wanted to congratulate you for being chosen for Celebrity Dance. Such a coup. So much better than playing a corpse.”
Hannah’s voice was smooth and gracious on the surface, but Nick felt an underlying subtext meant for Roxanne alone.
Hannah turned her dark eyes on Nick. “And you, Nicky, you are so lucky to have Roxanne on your show. She’s always wanted to learn how to dance, but her feet never cooperated.”
“I prefer Nicholas.” Nick ground his teeth together at the passive-aggressive performance by Roxanne’s parents. “And Roxanne is going to be great.”
Hannah glanced at her daughter’s bare feet. “Where are your shoes, sweetie? You shouldn’t be walking around barefoot.”
“I have to go,” Roxanne said, taking a step toward her car. “Nice to see you. Bye.”
“But we need to talk,” Hannah sidestepped to cut off Roxanne’s attempt to escape. “We can put you back on top, sweetie. You’d be on every A-list in town.”
“I don’t want to be there.”
Her mother frowned. “Then why are you doing Celebrity Dance?”
Roxanne said nothing, staring her mother down.
Hannah broke the stare down first. “Did you look at the script I sent you? Your father and I own the rights to it. Starring in it could be an opportunity to mend fences. Clear the air.”
“No, I haven’t read it. Nor do I intend to read it.” Roxanne skirted her parents, unlocked her car with the remote in her hand and was in her car before her parents could object.
Nick stood back, half admiring as Roxanne deftly maneuvered her Prius out of its parking space.
Hannah’s mouth tightened. “You must pardon my daughter’s rudeness.”
Nick’s eyebrows rose. “She wasn’t rude to me at all.”
“I hoped she would talk with us,” Hannah said with a sad little sigh. “She’s so very stubborn. We’ve only ever wanted the best for our daughter. I don’t understand what her problem is. We’ve done everything for her.” She gave Nick a coy, sideways look that contained an invitation to unburden himself in some way.
Nick edged back. He needed to get out of here. Confession wasn’t going to be good for their souls and he had a sense they were trying to enlist him.
“I have to get back.” He took another step away from them.
“We need you to help us,” Hannah continued. “Will you talk to Roxanne for us? Tell her we love her and only have her best interests at heart.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but that isn’t my job. We’re coworkers and that’s all. So you have a nice day.”
When he glanced back, Hannah and Eli stood in the middle of the parking lot. Hannah’s gestures were sharp and angry. Eli’s gestures matched hers. Nick wondered what they were arguing about. After a few minutes they climbed back into the black Escalade and peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires and burning rubber.
Once they were gone, Nick pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Mike’s number. “We need to talk. I’ll be at the office in thirty minutes.” He disconnected and walked toward the locker room to get his stuff.
* * *
Nick opened the door to Mike’s office. His wife, Nancy, sat on the sofa, her legs crossed, hands fluttering as she laughed at whatever Mike had said.
Mike looked up. He sat at his desk, one hand poised over a stack of papers. “How did the first rehearsal go?”
“She stepped on my feet eight hundred times. She tripped over her own feet at least four times. She’s a challenge.”
“You love a challenge,” Nancy said.
“You’re right, I do. And she is that.” Nick perched on the corner of Mike’s desk.
“Last year, you took over an overweight, over-the-hill actress...”
“Ouch,” Nick said.
“Those were Mia’s words, not mine... And you made her a dance champion and resurrected her career. She’s going to be in the next Joss Whedon film playing a superhero.”
“Roxanne,” Nancy added, “is young, fit and easy to look at. She’s got a lot of personality.”
And she was a delight to hold, Nick thought. Her skin was soft and her subtle perfume filled him with desire. “Her lack of grace is not going to be the problem.”
“What’s going to be the problem?” Mike asked curiously.
“Her parents,” Nick said with a sigh. “They were waiting in the parking lot after rehearsal. And I think things could have gotten incredibly nasty.” The kind of nasty that could end up in the gossip rags. True or not, the information crippled anyone involved.
Mike rubbed his temple. “I’m glad Roxanne is not contractually obligated to them in any way. That could just be ugly.”
“They’re her family,” Nick said. His own family was so different. They supported each other.
“Family means nothing in this town. It’s what’s written down on paper that counts.”
Nick shook his head. “I still think they are going to be a problem.”
“I don’t think much is going to stop them from being a problem,” Nancy added.
“You’ve been friends with Roxanne for several years now. What does she say about her parents?”
“Nothing,” Nancy replied. “She never talks about them and I don’t ask.”
“Roxanne is a nice woman and I like her.” He liked her a lot. “Her parents might prove a big enough distraction to keep her from doing her best.” Roxanne had an honesty about her that appealed to him. She had no illusions about who she was.
Nancy frowned. “Roxanne is too classy to get dragged into a tawdry controversy with her parents. And I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Mike looked thoughtful. “Controversy can be great publicity, but it’s not something I want for my show. I don’t want this season to be overshadowed by a mudslinging war between Roxanne and her parents. It’s unfair to the other contestants who are actually trying to revive their careers. Plus it creates all kinds of tension on the set.”
“Do you honestly think that will happen?” Nick asked, although he knew the answer.
“You know how the paparazzi and gossip rags love that kind of stuff,” Mike replied.
* * *
Roxanne pulled into her driveway to find Portia’s car parked on the street.
“What are you doing here?” Roxanne asked after walking into her home.
Portia stood in the kitchen making a chicken-salad sandwich. She wore her zoo uniform with the faint hint of hay clinging to her. She held a knife and waved it through the air. “Mom and Dad sent me.”
Roxanne stopped and stared at her sister. “Speak of the devils, I just ran into them. They were waiting for me outside the rehearsal studio.”
Portia patted the top piece of bread into place, cut it and took a bite. She chewed her food for a half minute, swallowed and took a sip of iced tea. “Well, they want to bury the hatchet, extend an olive branch, so to speak. Whatever they can do to bring you back into the fold. I’m supposed to be their ambassador.”
Roxanne opened the refrigerator and grabbed a soda. “Why?”
“They’re bleeding clients like mad. Mom and Dad are giving them all the runaround while they’re trying to sort out their finances. Having the IRS hanging over them every second is messing with their ability to run their business, and even though none of the clients know the details of their tax troubles, Mom and Dad’s erratic behavior about the whole situation is not breeding confidence in their ability to handle their clients’ affairs because they can’t seem to handle their own. And this script they want you to read, they own the rights and it’s actually pretty good.”
“So why don’t they get another actress—a bigger actress? Tons of actresses would kill for a great starring role.” Even as the words left her mouth, Roxanne knew the answer.
Portia gave her an exasperated look. “Public relations. Image rebuilding. Think about it. They have a great script. And with the prodigal daughter partnering with them on it—you know how far that would go to rebuild their image. If you trust them, others would, too.”
Roxanne knew. The industry was full of sheep. Where one went, often more followed.
Portia sat at the table across from Roxanne. “I just spent the morning brainstorming with them and their plan of attack is to bring you back into the warm embrace of our harmonious family and take advantage of your new fame on Celebrity Dance. If they can get you back for this film and show that you have every confidence in them, they would be able to rebuild their client base.”
“Ow,” Roxanne said. “Whose idea was that?”
“Tristan’s.”
“Oh, baby brother.”
“He desperately wants to be on Broadway, especially since his character is being written out of that medical drama he’s on, and the lead in the revival of Timbuktu is coming up for audition. Even I know he’s perfect for the role.”
Roxanne said in a jaundiced tone, “He’s going to have to give up drinking, partying and chasing women. That type of behavior is only excused when you reach the top.”
Portia nodded as she bit into her sandwich and gave a little sigh. She ate in silence for a few minutes. “Mom and Dad are frantic.”
“They’re seeing their little empire crumble around them.”
Roxanne didn’t want to be drawn back into her parents’ domain. Until she’d turned sixteen, she’d been under their controlling thumb and spent a lot of days resenting them.
The garage door opened and their grandmother walked into the kitchen carrying a load of grocery bags. “Hello, girls.”
