His eyes warmed and the grin spread wider. “Exactly. I’m telling you right now, though, if it looks Liberace-inspired, I’m not wearing it.”
His smiles made me feel good. I placed my hand on his shoulder and told him, “If it’s Liberace-inspired, I won’t blame you.”
Ty clicked a remote in his pocket, and the music began to play. We started the routine, and I began to count steps aloud to try and help him move along fast enough to keep up with the music. By the time the chorus rolled around, we were a step behind. He cursed. “This f**king footwork is killing me.”
“It’s okay,” I told him comfortingly. “You’re doing awesome. And look on the bright side. Next week will be an entirely different challenge, but at least it won’t be footwork again.”
“Bright side.” He snorted, hit the button to turn off the music, and then looked over at me. “So what are you wearing tonight?”
I gave him a little frown. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”
“The network’s having a kickoff party. I was told all the regulars were invited and the celebrities. Didn’t you get an invite?”
Embarrassment swept through me. I stepped backward, pulling out of his arms. “I guess not. I’m not really a regular, you know. I’m just a fill in for Svetlana.” And what a way to remind me. Ouch. This one was going to leave a mark for a long, long time. I tried not to let it bother me, even though I couldn’t help but get depressed.
A kickoff party for the show, and I hadn’t even been invited. Man. That was cold. It did teach me something important, though—that I didn’t count to the network.
“Aw, hell. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Zara. I thought everyone was invited.”
I forced a bright smile to my face. “Hey, it’s okay. Not your fault. I’ll just stay here and practice.”
“Hell, no.” Ty set his jaw. “You’re going to go as my date.”
Well, if there was one thing I was learning about Ty, it was that he was loyal…and constantly full of surprises. “You want me to go as your date? Really?”
“Really.”
I had a funny little flutter in my stomach. Anxiousness? Something else? “They’re letting people bring dates to the party?”
He gave me a wicked look, and put his hand on my waist again, drawing me in for more dancing. “I’m not going to ask.”
Oh no. That was not good. Being a party crasher wasn’t smart if I wanted to be hired permanently by the network. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Ty.”
“They want me on their show? They’ll let me bring a date.” His hand clasped mine firmly. “Now. Shall we try this again?”
A few hours later, we were still a step behind the music, but making progress. We’d left practice early to prepare for the shindig, and I’d showered and toyed with my hair nervously for the past hour. I hadn’t packed anything super fancy, but I did have a little black dress. Years of last-minute tweaking on costumes had made me handy with a needle and thread and last minute alterations. I managed to tear the back and sleeves off and changed it to a slip-dress with an open back and no sleeves. I had hair ribbons (what good ice skater didn’t carry a batch of hair ribbons?) and used a few of those to add a splash of pink to my neck as a decorative choker. It wasn’t super dressy, but it’d do. I had a pair of black sling-backs that I always packed and slipped those on, focusing my attention on my hair and makeup. If I did them well enough, no one would notice that my dress was a little on the casual side.
I fixed my hair into loose waves that spread over my shoulders and back. It was so dark brown that it was almost black, and it was layered so that it hung in sexy waves when I decided to let it out of my uptight bun. I lined my eyes and put on smoky eye shadow and mascara, and I curled my lashes to make my eyes bigger. Satisfied, I finished the look with a slick of nude lip gloss. The woman that stared back at me in the mirror was still tiny, but she had a hint of sultriness to her. My eyes—and naked back—looked sexy. At least no one would think I was fourteen tonight.
Ready, I left my room and headed into the living room of the cottage where Ty was waiting for me. I was surprised to see him in a gray suit—and a little dismayed. “How formal is this party?”
“Does it matter? It’s too late to change anyhow.” He gave me an up and down look, as if appraising my outfit.
I gave a small twirl in my modified dress. “Will I pass muster?”
“Absolutely.” Ty rubbed his mouth, studying me, and then shook his head.
“What?”
“Was just wondering how come this girl doesn’t show up to rehearsals every day. She’s f**king hot.”
I batted him on the shoulder. “I’m the same girl, doofus.”
“Yes, but this one has, like, hair and stuff.” He touched it in wonder.
“You’re one to talk,” I said, reaching out and rubbing his shaved scalp. “And if you saw this hair at five in the morning, I’d like to see what you could do with it.”
He gave one of my locks a tug, and then rubbed it between his fingers. “If I saw this hair at five in the morning, it’d be because it was spread all over my pillow.”
I sucked in a breath at the mental image. Ty leaning over me, me under him, my hair spread in a halo on the pillow. Just like that, I felt my ni**les stiffen. Okay, wow. Thanks for the visual. Now I was all turned on.
He winked at me, as if to nullify any flirty implications. “Come on, Zara. Time to go party.” And he offered me his arm.
I took it, smoothing my hand over his jacket sleeve. He looked hot tonight, too. The jacket hung just loosely enough to emphasize his big, meaty shoulders, but it cut in to hug his trim waist. He didn’t wear a tie—no surprise there, because I doubted his thick neck would squeeze into one. Instead, his collar was open at the throat, showing darkly tanned skin against the pale blue of his shirt. He was freshly shaven and smelled fantastic.
I sniffed him. “Wow. Why doesn’t this great-smelling guy show up to practice?”
“Oh, he can if you want him to.” And Ty winked at me again.
I snorted. “Let’s just go already. I’m freaked enough as it is.”
“Don’t be nervous,” he told me, and his expression was grim, firm. “You have every right to be there, just as much as anyone else.”