BROADWAY
Sara
I’m dreading the appearance of the blonde bitch Ian married, but she’s nowhere in sight as I change into my dancing shoes and stretch out next to my new colleagues on the stage. We’re all waiting to be told what to do.
Everyone is shuffling around, commenting on how excited they are to have landed their respective roles. The sound of doors shutting causes me to raise my eyes to the far end of the auditorium. A tall, dark-haired man in a business suit is walking down the auditorium room steps.
My Suit is here?
I can’t help but stand a little straighter, in an effort to hide the way my heart just went crazy in my chest.
Ian is here…
On his way forward, the directors greet him.
I arch my brows, confused.
“From the top,” Ian calls as he glances up at us, taking a seat that one of the directors vacates for him.
I blink and shoot him a what are you doing? look, but run to take my place at the front of the dancers.
We take it from the top and perform the variation we practiced during audition. When the music stops, Ian whispers to one of the directors. “Take five,” that director calls.
I climb down from the platform and approach while Ian comes to his feet in one fluid motion, the gleam of pride in his eyes making my thighs feel watery.
“Why are they following your orders?” I whisper-ask, coming to stand next to him.
He casually tugs on my ponytail. “I had to make some arrangements to be sure Cordelia was out of the picture—for good. Out of my life, and yours.”
“What?” I swallow, trying to register what he’s saying. I’m about to ask him to clarify, because this cannot mean what I’m thinking it means.
My delicious Workaholic has enough work on his plate with his own documentary and film production company. He couldn’t possibly have bought a Broadway one to boot. Could he have?
I’m shocked—shocked enough that my question comes out as a mere breath. “What did your ex want in exchange for selling you her production company?”
“Not much,” Ian says calmly, laughing silently at my complete astonishment. “She wanted me to let her keep my name.”
“You can’t!” I cry.
He raises one brow, tugging my ponytail one more time before letting it fall behind me.
I can’t help my stupid reaction. I’m so completely taken by this guy. Body, heart, soul. Even my mind he hijacks all the time. It’s inconvenient and impractical. But I’m in love. For the first time in my life. I love everything about this guy, even his name. His name that I one day want to be mine.
“I mean… imagine if you ever married again,” I try to explain to him. “There can’t be two Mrs. Fords, three including your Gran, walking around New York.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” He tsks softly.
A realization dawns on me. My new boss is… Ian? My Yummy Motherfucker?
“You said, Dancer, that you wouldn’t mind who your boss was, whether it was someone you hated or someone you cared for.”
I dip my head forward slowly in agreement, realization that Ian did this for me nearly shattering my brain. I’m mind-blown. I can’t believe someone would do something so huge in order to help me achieve my dreams. Both of them. The one about having a shot on Broadway, and the one of having a relationship with my Dirty Workaholic. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“What for?” I ask.
Ian scrapes his chin as he thinks about it, tilting his head to one side as he regards me. “I suppose a girl I know would say it’s for recovering my… faith in the universe.”
“A girl you know.” A smile begins tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“The girl I’m deeply into.”
My heart somersaults. “How deep?”
“As deep as love goes.” He seizes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my face back. “The girl I’m in love with.”
My toes curl in my dancing shoes as his burning eyes hold me. My hand curls over his as he continues holding me by the chin. “She loves you, too.”
“She said as much before. But we were both not quite on all five, and I can’t get enough of hearing it anyway.” His low voice rasps over my skin, and the slight twitch of his lips makes me breathless.
I nod frantically up and down. “Hmm. She does. Since she gave you her panties in a little wad in your pocket. She’s so easy.”
“No, she’s not.” His lips curve to shape an utterly sexy smile. “But she’s mine.”
I confirm his words with another jerky nod, and suddenly I can’t breathe beneath the intensity in his eyes.
“I’m free, Sara.”
“You’re free?”
“I’m free.”
I exhale, my whole body shuddering happily. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do now?”
“Take you out to dinner. Then take you home and keep you.”
One second he’s a few feet away. The next he’s lifting my face, kissing me slow, and so, so deep, like today is the end of the world. Or, maybe, the first day of a new one. Hands on my face, tongue invading, tasting. I’m a willing party to this celebration.
“I’m going to get you,” I promise in his ear before I slap a kiss on him. “Don’t you worry about that.” I smile as he sets me to my feet and I head back to the platform, watching Ian discuss the show with the directors before he goes to the door.
He motions that he’s leaving, and I blow him a kiss and get back to work.
This is the opportunity of my life, and I’ve got one gorgeous Suit to impress next time he stops by to watch me.
* * *
“Thinking way, way into your future, Ford. Kids. How many?” I ask later that night as we discuss everything, from practice, to the company, to our possible future together.
Thankfully he doesn’t seem to have trouble picturing such a distant future. Or maybe it’s not that distant, after all. “Two. A boy and a girl.” He shoots me a look that asks, “You?”
“Two as well. Two girls,” I contradict, beaming. I’m so, so glad that he’s free.
“You know, you’re not really free,” I murmur against his mouth, unable to stop kissing him. “Because you’re mine, Ford.”
“That’s right, Dancer.”
We’re not in bed, because he got his piano in. We set it in the living room, and he played “Hall of Fame” for me. I listened, leaning over and watching his fingers. I smiled happily when he was done. Ian scooped me up and shifted me onto the top of the piano, wedging himself between my thighs. I kissed him, and I’m still kissing him now.
Ian
I’m free. Free and in control of my life. Things with Sara are good. Hell, better than good. I’m a different man. Her roommate is getting married, and I’ve convinced my kitten to move in with me. I’ve already given her the extra key. I’m moving fast—but I know what I want. I’m not going to start pussyfooting about it now.
Now Sara is accompanying her roommate to look at wedding dresses, and she asked me to pick her up outside the store where they’ll be getting measurements. I take a cab to the corner and as I step out and feel the ice-cold New York winter wind hit me, I push my hands into my pockets and start for the store. Feels like the world is right for a change.
I’m fucking high from how good I feel when I spot my woman’s dark hair as she embraces a blond guy just at the corner of our meeting place. An icy claw rakes through my chest.
Sara looks up and spots me, and I don’t break my stride, her smile swiftly morphing into a frown as she takes a look at me.
“Hey,” I say, my eyes on the guy.
“Hey,” Sara says cautiously.
I want to punch something. No. I want to punch him.
“This is Jensen. Jensen, this is Ian.”
“Ahh,” Jensen says. “The boyfriend.” He smiles.
“And you are?” I ask, a little tightly.
“I’m her friend. Her gay friend. I wouldn’t have offered that detail if you didn’t look ready to pull my skin out with your teeth. I’d rather make it to my date tonight. Alive.”
“Sorry.” I’m instantly apologetic.
He eyes me.
“You won’t ever meet someone as loyal as Sara. You think she just lets any guy in the way she’s let you?” He shakes his head. “First time, man.”
I rake my hand across my jaw. “Thanks, thanks for telling me.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m glad you’re together. She looks happy.”
I watch her. She’s irritated as I head over, putting my hand on the small of her back to lead her down the block to a restaurant where I made reservations for lunch.
“What was that?” Hell, she’s not just irritated. She’s pissed.
“I’m sorry.” I roll my eyes.
“What did you think, Ford? That I was out cheating ’cause I can’t get enough dick?” She glares, pushing at me and making me laugh over how pissed she is. “Seriously, even after the first time I met you, I couldn’t bear for any other guy to touch me because it wasn’t you. They paled in comparison to you.”
My smile fades, and I clench my jaw as I run my eyes over her features. I touch her, bringing her toward me by the shoulders even as she fights me a little. “I haven’t been with anyone since that night either,” I promise.
Her eyes glisten, and she finally willingly lets me reel her back to me. “So you care. You’ve cared since then.”
I cock one eyebrow. “You thought I didn’t?”
“If you cared, you’d trust me. Jesus.” She glares again, but there’s a smile on her lips as she curls against my chest to shield herself from the cold.
“It’s because I care that I’m paranoid as fuck. You think you’re the only one who feels vulnerable?”
She seems surprised.
I raise her hand to my lips and brush a kiss along her knuckles, giving them a little bite that I know she’ll appreciate. “I’ll learn to trust. You’ll teach me how to trust again.”
“Talking about things helps. And not putting any walls between us. Ever. Letting our feelings free.”
I scoop her up by the ass, buzzing my nose over hers as I drop kisses on her sweet face, gruffly whispering, “I love you. It seems impossible that as the days go by, I love you more and more.”
“It’s not impossible because I’m in the same boat. Same love boat.” She rolls her eyes as I drop her back to her feet. “Okay, bad joke.”
Saying the L word as frequently as I do to Sara sometimes feels like a death sentence. But you’d never meet a happier dead man.
* * *
That night, I can’t sleep. Sara breathes evenly beside me, her body coated with sweat from the pounding I just gave her.
Fuck, she makes the most delicious sounds as she sleeps. Sounds I feel jealous over, protective over. Because they’re sexual sounds. The little kitten is having a sex dream. And I want those sounds to come alive only for me.
I rub my hand down her spine, pulling her closer. She stirs in my arms, a sultry smile on her face as we lock gazes.
I run my eyes along her lips, drinking in the way she always wakes up and smiles at me when she finds me watching her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice is raw with sleep and definitely confused.
“I like the way you look, sweetheart. Can’t I look at what’s mine?” I stroke my hands down to her butt.
She nibbles her lip, looking like she might kiss me, her eyes gleaming in amusement.
“Are you thinking of sex, Ian?” she taunts me in a roughened whisper, stroking her fingers along my arm.
My body tightens. Hell, I’m at an odd, bewildered place where I’ll do anything she tells me. Jump in exchange for more touching. Do anything for more of Sara’s loving.
I groan. “Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Her devilish eyes glitter.
“Maybe I’m waiting for someone to wake me up from this hell of a wet dream I’ve landed on.”
“And if I’m not a dream?” she taunts quietly.
I drink in her pale neck, a simple gold necklace at her throat, her hair loose—damn, I love it loose ’cause I can grab it, smell it, wrap my fingers in it.
She’s breathing fast, looks wound up and ready to be loved, and a heat rises in me as if I were exclusively made to accommodate her.
We share a look.
“Then I keep you, kitten.” I bend down and grab her closer, squeezing her ass in my palms, our tongues twined.
That’s all I want. Everything.
I catch and draw her to me and when a gasp leaves her lips, I bend my head and take it, take that gasp, that mouth, the moan that follows, the girl who’s got me.
* * *
That Saturday, it’s Sara’s big opening night. I’ve got the roses, twenty dozen of them, already waiting back home. I brought a dozen more to the theater and sit in the center front row, watching her dance her heart out in front of a crowd of thousands. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
She nails it. Triple threat who can act, sing, and dance. Hell, in two hours she brings down the house. Gets a standing ovation. I’m the first one to stand, clapping like I’ve never clapped before.
My chest swells. My dick jerks. My whole body involved with my goddamn heart. It’s like a helium balloon in my chest. I’m so full I could pop.
Up on the stage, Sara strides forward, grabbing her team’s hands as they bow, the widest, fucking most edible smile dancing on her lips. All those practices. Every excruciating effort. Even the days soaking her muscles in a cold bath. Every hurdle has been worth it. Every challenge has been conquered. Every test passed.
I’ve seen the brightest and most talented stars on Broadway. I’ve even seen them in Hollywood. But nothing can hold a flame to Sara, who burns more brightly than anything I’ve ever seen.
When the curtains close for real now, I snatch the roses and a bottle of champagne and stride backstage.
I know what to expect. Photo ops for the paper. Hell, I can already see the reviews she’ll get. A new star is born on Broadway!
Sara’s in her dressing room when I rap on the door and push it open. She swivels around in her chair and our eyes meet. She’s on her feet as I cross the room and she throws herself into my arms. I set the flowers and champagne aside and pull her in tighter.
I squeeze her, then toss her into the air, catching her by the waist only to plant a firm kiss on her mouth, both of us laughing.
“I’m proud of you, kitten. You slayed it tonight.”
“I know! I know! God, did you hear the crowd?”
“Baby, I was one of them.”
She squeaks and leaps up and down, and then quickly wipes the corners of her eyes and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing herself closer. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it. Thank you, Ian.” She grabs my face and presses her lips to mine, and they taste of her tears and I can’t get enough of her. I’ll never get enough of her.