Being packed on to a private plane with over a dozen dancers and ten other celebrities—plus the show’s two hosts—Juan Carlos Perez, a former teen TV star, and Reggie Kong, a stylist to the stars—reminded Stone of crowding into small spaces with his family. Everyone joked and teased each other with an easy camaraderie, and groups split off for private conversations. Gina and Natasha huddled into their seats next to each other with eye masks and ear plugs to get some sleep, so Stone sat with Alan Thomas—a gold-medal winning Paralympian in Track and Field—and Jackson. He’d gone out for drinks with them the previous week. Alan was staying in Stone’s hotel, and Jackson lived nearby.
Make new friends who weren’t Gina: check.
People were making videos on their phones and snapping selfies left and right, but no one was mic’d. A team of producers and stage managers would meet them in New York.
“It’s like being on the school bus without the teacher,” Jackson said, glancing around the plane.
Stone made a sound of agreement in his throat. He wasn’t allowed to talk about his schooling, per his contract with Living Wild. “Have either of you ever been to New York?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I lived there for a little while to try my hand at Broadway.” Jackson shrugged. “Ended up bartending in the Village and singing at shitty clubs on the Lower East Side. The winters sucked, so I moved to LA and started booking TV spots right away.”
Stone smirked. “I’m sure the winters aren’t that bad.”
The other two guys laughed. “Probably not to you,” Jackson agreed.
Lauren wandered over to them. “Hey, boys.” She leaned over the back of Stone’s seat and twined her fingers in his hair. Stone bit back a sigh, wishing he’d thought to twist it up into a bun.
“Do you two know each other already?” Jackson asked, pointing to Lauren and Alan. “You’re both Olympians.”
Alan shook his head. “Winter and Summer. Big difference.”
“And technically they’re separate events, with separate committees.” Lauren sent a pointed glance at Alan’s prosthetic leg, visible below his cargo shorts.
Stone’s blood boiled at her insinuation, but Alan only shrugged and said, “For now.”
“Well, we’re all on equal ground in the ballroom,” Jackson said, changing the subject.
Lauren scoffed. “That’s what you think. Only one of us here has spent her whole life learning to dance on ice skates. This show is going to be a breeze.”
Jackson flashed her a sharp grin. “It’s not just about the dancing, sweetheart.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Lauren shot back. “It’s a fucking popularity contest, and I’m already a household name.”
“Because you’re a gold medalist, right?” Jackson tapped his chin, then pointed to Alan. “No, wait. That’s him.”
With a snarl, Lauren stalked off to the other end of the plane.
“She’s got a rep for being nasty,” Alan said in a low voice once she was out of earshot. “Watch out for her.”
“Bring it,” Jackson said. Then he nodded at Stone. “Maybe you’re the one who’d better watch out. That girl’s got her eye on you.”
Stone sighed. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Jackson shrugged. “Just saying. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. Her partner, though . . .” He twisted in his seat and waved to Kevin, who was taking pictures with Rick Carruthers. “That boy can get it.”
Stone put Lauren out of his mind and slept for a few hours before they landed at the airport. Everyone donned baseball caps and dark sunglasses, which Stone would have found funny if he hadn’t been so exhausted. A party bus waited to drive them to the Morning Mix studios in Midtown Manhattan. Since Morning Mix and The Dance Off were owned by the same network, the lively morning news show always got the scoop on the cast announcement.
The next two hours were a rush of activity. The drive into Manhattan offered a brief glimpse of the Empire State Building from the car windows, glinting in the dawn. Then they were hustled into the studio building for a whirlwind turn through hair and makeup, before receiving barked instructions on how they should enter the set.
Stone waited backstage with Gina, who managed to look fresh as a daisy despite the early hour. His eyes were gritty with lack of sleep, and his back hurt from being jammed into a plane seat for six hours.
Her hand touched his lower back and rubbed in small circles. She hadn’t done anything like that since the club. “You ready for this?”
“No. Not at all.”
Her brows dipped in concern. “What do you mean?”
He struggled to put it into words. “I’m not good with interviews. Promise you’ll do all the talking?”
“I—okay.” She smiled and patted his arm. “I’ll handle the questions. You’ve got the strong, silent type thing down pat.”
Of course he did. It was his role, and he’d learned to play it well, even when it rankled.
The Dance Off’s hosts, Juan Carlos and Reggie, went out first to chat with the Morning Mix hosts about the upcoming season. Finally, they called out the couples one by one.
“We go in order of fame,” Gina whispered to him. “Least to most. We’re somewhere in the middle, I think, because you’re on a cable show.”
Keiko Simon, a swimsuit cover model, and her partner Joel Clarke, went first. They were followed by Rose Jeffers and Matteo Rossi. Rose’s only claim to fame had been as one of the stars of The Lab, a hit TV show in the nineties about teenage mad scientists. Stone’s younger brother Winter had loved the show.
Alan went third with his partner Rhianne Davis. Stone would have thought a gold medal-winning athlete would have been more famous than a cable TV survivalist, but who could make sense of these things?
Next out was Farrah Zane, the teenage star of a hit kids’ TV movie, and her partner Danny Johnson.
“She’s supposed to be really good,” Gina said in a low voice. “We’ll have to watch out for her.”
Stone didn’t like the idea of being rivals with a nineteen-year-old girl, but he didn’t reply. They were going out next.
Gina tucked her hand into his elbow and fixed a big smile on her face. The stage manager waved frantically at them, and they strode out onto the set.
The live audience packed onto a set of bleachers cheered, and Gina waved at the crowd while Stone walked them to their seats, situated stadium style on three levels. Since Stone was so tall, they were given seats in the back. He helped Gina up onto the platform since she was in monstrously high heels, and took his spot next to her.
They were followed by Norberto “Beto” Velasquez, Argentinian millionaire and the most recent “star” of Your Future Fiancé, and his partner Jess Davenport.
The other celebs followed with their dance partners—Jackson and Lori, Dwayne and Natasha, Twyla and her pro partner Roman Shvernik, Rick and Mila Ivanova, and Kevin and Lauren.
Stone would have picked Twyla Rhodes or Rick Carruthers as the most famous, but he was biased.
The rest of the morning passed in a manic blur. The hosts asked him all of two questions, and he supposed he answered them. Gina did most of the talking, smiling through the whole experience. This would be her fifth time doing the media circus for a new season. She’d be used to it. More than that, she shined. It hit him suddenly that she loved this stuff. Being in the spotlight, feeding off the cheers of the crowd—she’d said as much the other night while talking to Kevin. She wanted more of this. This was her life.
Meanwhile, Stone was itching to get away. The live audience, the glaring lights, and being packed onto a stage with the rest of the cast made him claustrophobic and distracted. They couldn’t have been on set for more than five minutes, but it felt like hours. Finally, the hosts cut to a commercial break.
Gina let out a deep breath and grinned. “Isn’t this exciting?” She must have seen the answer on his face because her smile dimmed and she touched his shoulder. “Stone, are you okay?”
Aware that there were microphones everywhere, he just gave her a tight smile and nodded, patting her hand. “Tired.”
He could see by the concern in her eyes that she didn’t believe him, but she let it drop. The commercial break ended, the hosts asked questions of the other dancers, and at the next break they were all rushed off set.
“Is that it?” Stone asked, relieved he’d gotten through it without embarrassing himself.
Lori overheard him and chuckled. “No way. We still have to get through the interviews. Put your game face back on.”
She was right. The couples were separated and seated in small rooms, where a parade of reporters passed through asking them the same inane questions over and over. Again, Gina did most of the talking, mostly about how excited she was for the new season, and for the audience to see Stone dance. They were seated close enough that she could nudge him when he should answer, and he managed to pay close enough attention that he didn’t think he sounded too much like an idiot.
Donna popped in a couple times between interviews. “Make it good, Gina,” she said, her smile sharp as a blade.
“Always.” Gina replied with a tight smile of her own that made Stone want to massage the tension from her neck.
And then, miracle of miracles, they were done. A PA entered the room to unhook their mics, handed them fresh bottles of water, and bid them good day.
When they were alone in the room, Gina kicked her legs out and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Thank god that’s over,” she mumbled. “I love it and wouldn’t change a thing, but damn if it isn’t draining.”
“You handled it well.” Through every stupid interview, she’d responded with resilience and enthusiasm.
She shrugged and got to her feet. “Part of the job. Come on, we have the rest of the day to ourselves. I want to show you my city.”
“I hear you have to walk a lot in New York.” He glanced down at the sexy sandals that made her legs look a million miles long.
She followed his gaze and laughed. “I’m going to change into sneakers.”
“And we need our disguises, too, I guess.” At her puzzled frown, he grinned. “Sunglasses and hats.”
She linked her arm with his. “Look at you. You’re already a pro at this ‘being famous’ thing.”
“Heaven forbid.” Stone gave a mock shudder to make her laugh, just because he liked the sound.
He was in too deep, but too tired to care. It was easier to like her, easier to enjoy her company and focus on pleasing her.
When she smiled, he forgot why he was fighting so hard.
* * *
Outside, the weather was cool and sunny, the perfect spring day. The air was as clear as it got in Manhattan, but it had nothing on Alaska. Gina was spoiled for life.
They were still deep in Times Square territory, though, which meant hordes of tourists and people trying to make money off tourists—hawkers for Broadway shows, street salesmen with tables taking up valuable sidewalk space, and creepy costume characters who’d pose for pictures at five bucks a pop.
“Where are we going?” Stone asked.
“Let’s take the train to Central Park,” she said. “You’re too conspicuous, and the people walking around here have their eyes peeled for celebrities.” They’d lost his hat somewhere in the Morning Mix building, and had to buy a baseball hat for him in one of the many souvenir shops. Still, the sunglasses and hat did nothing to disguise him. He was massive, with a blonde-streaked ponytail and full beard. It was like trying to hide a time-traveling Viking in a kindergarten class.
He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
They were close to Bryant Park, which would be populated with more business people than tourists, so Gina hustled them over to the subway station there and led the way underground.
In the station, Gina bought a Metrocard from one of the machines, and swiped them both in. The B train waited at the platform, and she shoved Stone onto it before the doors closed.
“Hold on,” she warned. He had good balance, but she didn’t want to see him bust his ass on the train. It was full, and at the next stop they moved further in to make room for the people coming and going.
Stone removed his glasses and shoved them into his back pocket. “Too dark in here,” he muttered. He sent a restrained glare around them and hunched his shoulders inward, as if trying to take up less space. “And crowded.”
The stop at 59th Street/Columbus Circle arrived faster than Gina anticipated. She headed for the doors, elbowing the people in her way until the crowd spit her onto the platform. She moved a few feet away to get out of the flow of people.
“The park is right upstairs,” she said.
No answer.
When she turned around, Stone wasn’t there. She whipped off her sunglasses and stood on tiptoe, searching for him over the heads of everyone else on the platform.
Shit. He was still on the train.
She rushed back to the doors, yelling his name, and was caught between the currents of people exiting and entering the train. His head snapped up, they made eye contact, and he started to edge his way through the crowd.
The guy was built like a fucking linebacker, but he was so worried about hurting people with his size that he wouldn’t knock them aside. Before Gina could get back on, the doors slid closed right between them.
“No!” Gina pounded a fist on the glass. She raised her voice and rushed to give him instructions as the train prepared to move. “Get off at the next stop and wait for me there!”
He nodded as the train sped up and pulled out of the station.
“That sucks,” the woman standing next to her said. “You should call him, just to make sure.”
“Yeah, I . . . thanks.” Gina stood by the newsstand and tried to catch her breath.
Shit. She’d just lost her celebrity dance partner on the train, a guy who had never been to New York City before and who didn’t own a phone.
She’d teased him about it, but it hadn’t been a problem because he was always either at his hotel or at the rehearsal studio with her. Now, it seemed dangerous. How did you walk around without a phone? In New York City of all places?
Her own phone buzzed in her pocket with an incoming text. For a brief, elated second, she thought it might be Stone. A glance at the screen showed it was her mother, Benita, wanting to know when Gina would be coming up to the Bronx to visit and inviting “Rock” for dinner. Of course her family had watched the show that morning.
Gina’s heart leaped when the telltale rush of air swept along her side of the platform, along with the rumble of an approaching train. Excellent, another B. She’d be at the next station in under two minutes. She rushed to stand by the doors when the train came to a stop. Inside, she squashed herself into a corner by the empty conductor’s booth and fanned her face while a slightly garbled announcement blasted from the overhead speaker.
More people filed on. Gina tapped her foot. The train started to move. Finally.
Assuming Stone had followed her instructions, they’d be reunited in . . .
The train sailed past 72nd Street.
“What?” She glanced around. No one else seemed surprised. “What’s happening? Isn’t this a local?”
A middle-aged guy in a suit gave her a disdainful look. “If you’d been paying attention, you would have heard them announce this train is going express to—”
“To 125th Street.” Stomach sinking, Gina sagged against the metal door and weighed her options.
There were none, for the time being. New York City transit was notoriously unpredictable, and yeah, sometimes local trains went express for no reason, and vice versa. She was stuck, watching all the local stops go by, each one reminding her how far away she was getting from Stone.
Her freak out meter was at maximum by the time the train stopped at 125th Street. She dashed out of the train, up the stairs into the station, and down another flight of stairs to the downtown platform.
A downtown express was pulling in. She hesitated. 72nd Street wasn’t an express stop. But when an automated voice announced delays on the downtown local track, that decided it. She hopped on and headed back to 59th Street, and this time found a seat.
She spent the entire train ride worrying that Stone wouldn’t be there when she arrived. What was she going to do if he wasn’t there? Did he even know what hotel they were all staying at? How would they find him?
Tears threatened, burning her eyes and forming a lump in the back of her throat. She bit her lip against them. She wouldn’t cry on the train. The last time she’d done that, she’d been seventeen and stupid, crying because a boy had broken her heart.
Memories of that time reinforced all her goals and rules. Shoot for the top, and don’t let any man get in the way.
Still, this was her fault. She should’ve told Stone where they were getting off, or held on to him to make sure he was following her off the train. She would have, if she weren’t actively trying to keep her distance.
By the time the train pulled back into the station at 59th Street, Gina’s nerves were vibrating with anxiety. She bolted onto the platform, ran upstairs and over to the uptown platform once again, and stood wringing her hands and breathing hard while she waited for a local.
When it arrived a minute later, she paid close attention. This time, there were no announcements. The train picked up speed, heading for 72nd, and Gina’s heart nearly burst out of her chest.
In the seconds that passed between stations, her traitorous, anxiety-ridden brain supplied all sorts of improbable images of what she’d find. An empty platform. Stone dead in the tracks. A huge crowd she had to fight her way through, screaming his name at the top of her lungs.
When the train stopped at 72nd Street, she waited at the doors, chewing her lipstick off. Every second seemed to drag, until finally the doors slid open.
Gina stumbled out, looking up and down the platform with wild movements. She couldn’t see anything yet, couldn’t see him. People were leaving the train, and she searched for Stone towering over them, but he wasn’t there. She’d just inhaled a shaky breath to call his name when the crowd passed, and she saw him.
Stone was sitting on a bench, ankle propped on his knee, reading one of the free newspapers distributed daily in the subway.
When she let out the breath she was holding, he looked up. His eyes lit, and a smile curved his lips.
“There you are.” He folded the newspaper, but before he could get up, she rushed him. Her knees wobbled as she dropped onto his lap and threw her arms around his neck.
“You’re here,” she whispered into his hair, inhaling the scent of him that had become so familiar and comforting to her.
“Of course I am.” His voice held a note of surprise. His arms encircled her, and for the first time in . . . she didn’t know how long it had been . . . but for the first time since she’d lost him, she felt okay.
She refused to examine the feeling further.
“You told me to get off here and wait for you. So, that’s what I did.”
He’d listened. She didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t. “I’m so sorry, Stone.”
“Gina.” He eased her back and tilted his chin down so he could meet her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s all right.”
She let out a shuddering breath, the stress of the day taking its toll. Her words spilled out in a jumbled mess. “I lost you, and I’m supposed to be responsible for you, and you don’t even have a phone, and—”
“Hey.” He cupped her face and leaned in. “You didn’t lose me. I should have been paying attention. And you’re not responsible for me—I’m a grown man, and I’ve been lost in worse places than this.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Besides, I think I was sitting here all of twenty minutes.”
Gina blinked, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered at his touch. “That was it? It felt like hours.”
“I’m sorry I made you worry.”
“I’m sorry I made you wait.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. It was an accident. I knew you’d come back for me.” He shifted and held up the newspaper. “Do you have a pen? I’ve been doing this crossword puzzle in my head and it’s getting confusing.”
She laughed full out and hugged him, relishing in the way he hugged her back.
“I’m not letting go of you again,” she mumbled into his shoulder.
“I think I’m okay with that.” His voice was soft, and she strained to catch his words. Time to break the tension.
“My mother invited you to dinner.”
He exhaled, and she felt it throughout her entire body.
“Really? Because I would do just about anything for a home-cooked steak.”
She snickered. “I think that can be arranged. She might call you Rock, though.”
“For a steak, she can call me anything she wants.”