“So cute, all puffed up and mad.”
His gasp was loud.
“You know,” I began because I was on a roll. “When you do apas de quatre—those nearly make my eyes bleed. It’s lucky you light up the stage or I would pass out.”
“Dilettante,” he accused.
“Oh, come on.”
“How dare you!” he yelled.
I was laughing as I got up from the barstool and walked into the kitchen. He just as quickly fled, and in moments, we’d switched sides.
“So you’re going to Copenhagen, and then you’ll be home until next season?” I wanted to make sure I heard him right, but the angry flashing in his eyes was making me crazy. I had no idea how I’d ever missed how incredibly sexy he was. I’d always noted his beauty, his eyes and skin, his gorgeous carved features, but the carnality of him, the sex appeal, the sultry sound of his voice and how effortlessly graceful he was hadn’t become imprinted on my mind until he’d been naked with me in bed. It was like I’d been asleep and now I was wide awake. I saw all of him now, and he was dazzling.
“I don’t know now,” he answered, bringing me out of my trance. “I might make more plans to get away from the man who thinks ballet is boring!”
“Not all of them,” I allowed. “But you gotta admit, all the dancing swans—the corps, I mean—that goes on a little long.”
Another gasp of outrage, and I laughed as I darted to the same end of the counter I’d come around. I was hoping he’d be fooled and run right into me. I should have known better. His reflexes were better than mine.
“You usually have your schedule booked early. How come not this year?”
“It’s a good question,” he apprised me in a patronizing tone that just made me want to grab him and hold him down and kiss him breathless. He was all offended, and I just wanted to ravish him. “I could say yes to Lu this year because I didn’t do what I normally do and accept offers from the hundreds I receive.”
“And why is that?” I asked as I stalked him around the kitchen island.
“I will admit to being hesitant this year about leaving.”
“How come?” I pressed.
“Because I’m madly in love with a man who has no perceivable appreciation of the classics!”
“Madly?” I baited him because I liked living dangerously. “Madlyin love?”
He ignored me. “I suppose you hateDon Quixotetoo,” he growled at me.
“No, I like that one. It’s very emotional.”
“That’s a good answer,” he said, deflating a bit.
“I like you madly in love,” I announced, bolting to the right. He easily evaded me even as we went three times around the island with him changing direction twice. “And may I say, you’re in excellent shape.”
“Duh,” he quipped, eyes narrowing. “Ballet dancer.”
“You know we have to go to synagogue tomorrow night,” I reminded him.
“I’m aware,” he said, keeping his eyes on me, his look wary.
“Or we could go Saturday morning like normal.”
“Friday night is better because we can have dinner after and sleep in on Saturday.”
“Thatisbetter,” I agreed, grinning at him.
Cel cleared his throat. “I decided I’m going to convert.”
This was news. “Why? You know as well as I do that progressive Jewish communities welcome interfaith couples. Besides, you already attend services with my mother, so what does it matter? Our synagogue welcomes everyone.”