Showmance Read online

  Rose was already taking off her coat and hanging it up on a rack by the door. “Hush. You’ll leave the poor man traumatised,” she told him playfully. I loved the easy way she had with people, so naturally friendly and warm. She couldn’t see me staring at her since she was looking at Graham. It was a good thing, too, because if she had, she might have realised that if anyone had a show crush, it was me.

  Graham went to prepare his workstation then and Rose approached me, silently helping me out of my coat. I was quiet, enjoying her closeness as she ran her hand over the sleeve of my woollen jumper.

  “This is nice,” she murmured, and my eyes instinctively wandered to the cream silk blouse she wore. It was the first time I’d seen her out of her regulation dance clothes. She must’ve changed before coming to meet me.

  “Yours is nice also,” I said, a frog in my throat.

  What the fuck? Yours is nice also? Why did putting “also” at the end of a sentence automatically make a person sound stiff? Living on an island for the last eight years had seriously fucked with my game.

  Rose smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Well, aren’t we both full of compliments today.”

  Her hands were still smoothing down the sleeve of my jumper, and my eyes grew hooded as I watched their descent. When was the last time a woman had touched me skin to skin? My ex-girlfriend, Lizzy, felt like a lifetime ago. We’d both been lonely and had filled a void in each other’s lives. In the end, it was she who’d pushed me away, telling me I needed to deal with my issues, that she wasn’t the one for me.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Rose asked gently.

  I swallowed and nodded before turning to sit in the chair Graham gestured to. It’d been a while since I’d thought of Lizzy, and it still hurt to remember how alone I’d felt when she told me I needed to go, that I was just filling time with her, and simply “settling” wasn’t what either one of us deserved.

  When I looked at Rose through the mirror, she lifted a brow, her eyes wide with concern, like she thought she’d done something wrong. I returned her look with one of my own, one that said everything was fine. She seemed content with that and went to sit on a bench, flicking through a magazine while Graham set to work on my hair.

  After a while Rose lost interest in what she was reading and simply sat back to watch me. I met her gaze through the mirror once more, my eyes travelling over her form. Her dark brown hair was twisted along one shoulder, her blouse tight over her full chest but flaring out at her hips. Her dark jeans outlined her shapely thighs, and my mind began to wander as I imagined how she might look stripped bare.

  There were so many details to a woman that the imagination just couldn’t do justice. I wanted to know if she had freckles anywhere other than the sparse few that dusted her cheeks. Would she feel soft underneath me? How would she smell with my scent all over her? How would she taste? Would she be tight and wet if we fucked?

  Jesus.

  The direction of my thoughts must have showed on my face, because Rose tensed up, folding her arms over her chest as she focused on the floor for a time. I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or if my attention was simply unwanted. I hated the lack of certainty, wished I was better at reading women and their subtle cues.

  When Graham was done with me, he pulled the coverall off and held a mirror up to the back of my head so that I could see.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “It’s great. You’ve outdone yourself,” said Rose before I could answer. In truth, I had no opinion other than it didn’t look like someone had gone to work on me with a hacksaw. Right then I only really valued my looks in relation to how they affected Rose. I wanted her to be attracted to me. No, I needed her to be, needed her to look into my eyes and tell me to fuck her until she couldn’t stand straight.

  I stood and walked over to the counter to pay Graham, while Rose went to gather our coats. When we were standing outside, she stuck her thumb out for a taxi to take us back to the studio, saying it was too cold to walk this time. I caught sight of a few men standing on the other side of the street, watching us, and it struck me as odd. They looked like press, but they couldn’t be. Nobody cared about me anymore. I was certain that most people had completely forgotten who I was since I’d been out of the public eye for so long.

  “Did you see those men?” Rose asked once we were seated in the taxi, and I swore inwardly. I hadn’t been the only one to notice them.

  “Aye,” I said, exhaling a gruff breath.

  “I think they were photographing you from outside when you were getting your hair done. I didn’t want to say anything at first because I thought it might freak you out.”

  “Let them take pictures. They’ll get bored eventually.”

  “Hmm, well, maybe you should think about hiring a PR rep, just in case. People still remember you, Damon. I know you probably thought you could just come back and fly under the radar, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out that way.”

  I nodded, posture stiff. “I’ll look into it.”

  Rose’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know this is the last thing you wanted.” She paused, studying me for a moment before lifting her hand and running her fingers through the freshly cut strands of my hair. “This style really suits you, you know. I like it,” she murmured, and I relished her touch. The more contact I had with her, the more I seemed to crave it.

  When she moved to withdraw her hand, I reacted purely on instinct. Reaching up, I pressed her fingers to my scalp, the warmth of them seeping into me like a soothing balm. Time slowed down. I heard her exhale a tiny breath as our eyes locked. In reality it only lasted a moment, but it felt like longer. When I let go, her hand fell into her lap and I muttered an apology.

  “Sorry. Didn’t realise how much I missed being touched.”

  Rose nodded like she understood, staring at the glass screen in front of her. “It’s okay. It must be lonely living so far away from people.” She went quiet then, like she was considering whether or not to say more. Then she asked, “Do you have anyone waiting for you back in Skye? I know your grandmother passed, but was there a woman?”

  Her question piqued my curiosity. Did she care if there was a woman? A deep, possessive feeling struck me, because I liked the idea of her caring.

  “There was someone for a few years, but she ended it. She thought I was settling for her, that because our part of the island was less populated than others, she was my only option.” She also thought I needed vast amounts of therapy to deal with my trust issues, but I wasn’t quite ready to tell Rose about those yet.

  “And were you settling?” she asked quietly.

  I glanced out the window. It was starting to rain. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t love her, and Lizzy was a woman who deserved to be loved.”

  When I looked back at Rose, she seemed fascinated by what I was saying. Blinking, she sat back and began brushing nonexistent lint off her jeans. “You’re not like other men,” she said, still focusing on her jeans.

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “You’re very honest. I haven’t had a lot of experience with honest men lately.”

  The idea of some prick being dishonest with Rose made me want to break something. She was beautiful and talented, sexy as fuck. How could any man not feel like the luckiest bastard in the world to be with her?

  The taxi stopped, and I leaned forward to pay the driver before Rose got the chance. She was going out of her way to help me, and I didn’t plan on letting her spend a penny while we were in each other’s company. God knew I had more than enough to go around. Perhaps it was seeing how obsessed my dad had been with spending that made me the opposite. He couldn’t go a day without splashing the cash. It was like an addiction. I, on the other hand, had been wearing the same boots for the last five years.

  Was the fear of spending money a real phobia? I just didn’t see the point in having ten things when one would do.

  Iggy’s studio was all locked up when we got the
re, everybody gone home for the evening. Luckily, Rose had a key. I followed her up the stairs, where she began turning on lights and fiddling around with the thermostat.

  “I know we’re going to be roasting once we start dancing, but I’m just so cold right now. I feel like I want to press my entire body up against a radiator.” She chuckled and removed her coat and scarf.

  I wished she’d press her entire body up against me and we could warm each other, I thought to myself.

  “January is one of the coldest months,” I said.

  Jesus Christ. I was coming out with some truly awful lines tonight. Like always, Rose didn’t tease me for my awkwardness; she just smiled and went to hook her iPod up to the sound system. I took off my coat, glancing around. I peered at myself in the wall of mirrors that stretched from floor to ceiling. Back home my cottage had one mirror in the bathroom and that was it. I probably looked at myself once in an entire day. Some days not at all. Staring at my reflection now was like having a tattoo on your shoulder that you forgot was there. It was like, huh, so that’s what my face looks like.

  I ran a hand through my new haircut. It felt different, like I was touching somebody else’s hair. Rose came and stood beside me, placing a hand on her hip.

  “Not too shabby, eh?” she said, her eyes meeting mine through the mirror.

  I tensed up as though I’d been caught doing something unseemly. “It’s hair.”

  “You never told Graham if you liked it. You do realise that’s the ultimate insult for a barber, right?”

  I frowned. She shook her head and laughed. “I’m messing with you. To be honest, I think you made his day just by walking into his shop. Come on, let’s get started.”

  I followed her over to the middle of the dance floor as she went on, “I’m going to teach you a basic foxtrot. There’s a scene or two where you’re going to need to ballroom dance with Alicia, and this is a good place to start.”

  Leaving me standing there, she went to turn on some music, and a minute later “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra came on. Rose returned to stand in front of me, holding her arms out as though about to dance with an invisible partner.

  “Okay, so watch my feet. It’s really easy. You do two slow steps forward, one quick step to the side and then back.”

  I studied her feet like my life depended on it. She said it was simple, but there was still a good chance I’d fuck up.

  “Damon,” she said, drawing my attention to her. “You’re biting your lip. Stop it. You won’t learn if you’re too tense.”

  I nodded and released my lip. I didn’t even realise I was biting it, but now I tasted blood on my tongue. Rose let out a slow breath and demonstrated the steps for me again.

  “All right, I think I have it.”

  She eyed me sceptically. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye.”

  “Come here, then.”

  I stepped closer to her and she took my hands, placing one on her back just below her armpit and the other she laced her fingers through. Her blouse was cool and silky under my touch. I thought I saw a tiny tremble go through her, and my cock reacted. I silently urged it to fuck off. I didn’t need Rose noticing my stiffy and thinking I was some kind of sexual deviant.

  “Don’t worry about trying to lead,” she said. “I’ll do that until you get the hang of it.”

  “Two steps forward and one to the side.”

  “And then back,” she smiled.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Laughing, she shook her head, her smile widening. “You’d swear we were about to bungee jump off a skyscraper.”

  I grimaced, because she was right. I was acting daft. “I don’t want to fuck up.”

  “You won’t. Relax.”

  It turned out she was right. Well, almost. I stepped on her toes a couple of times, apologising profusely, because I knew it had to have hurt even though she pretended it didn’t. I had big clumsy fucking clown feet. Finally, on the fifth try, I managed to pull it off.

  “I told you that you could do this,” she said triumphantly. “Look at you, you’re even starting to lead and you don’t even realise it.” We danced our way across the room until Rose’s back hit the wall. My chest bumped hers, a small oomph of breath escaping her as my mouth crashed against the top of her head. I could feel her tits this close. Fuck, they were full and soft, and I knew they’d feel incredible bare. Her hair was silky and smelled like flowers. I wanted to bunch it in my hand, pull her head to the side, and taste her neck.

  “Shit, sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” she replied, unfazed. We broke apart, and I willed my cock to fuck off once more as I followed her back to the middle of the room.

  “Now I’m going to teach you how to change direction so that doesn’t happen. This is a corner step.” She took my hands again, placing them back where they had been. I inhaled deeply, eyes on the delicate curve of her collarbone until her voice demanded my attention. “Imagine we’re on a crowded dance floor. We don’t want to go bumping into other couples, so we need to corner step to avoid them. When I take a step back with my right foot, you take a step forward with your left, and then we do a little turn like this,” she said, moving our bodies before continuing, “until we’re facing a new direction. See.”

  I completed the steps without thinking. I just followed the movement of her body, not over-concentrating like before. I’d never been a great dancer, but with Rose it felt natural. All I had to do was lose myself in her voice, and my body responded. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that I wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk, but shit, at least my horn-dog urges were good for something.

  “Look at you, you’re doing it,” she enthused.

  My gaze warmed on her and we continued dancing until one song bled to another and another. Before I knew it, we’d been practicing for an hour, but it felt like we’d only just begun. Rose didn’t even realise that I was enjoying being near her on a level that had nothing to do with learning how to dance. And it wasn’t just sexual. I liked being around her, having the feel of her body beneath my fingers. She made my head feel clear and untroubled. When a vibration sounded, interrupting us, she let go of my hand and went to pull her phone from her bag.

  “Hey, Iggy, what’s up?” she answered, her voice a little breathless. I knew it must’ve been from all the dancing, but it made me think of sex again. I wanted to make her breathless in so many different ways. She tugged at the end of her top, and my eyes followed the movement.

  “Yeah, uh-huh, okay. Sounds good. See you tomorrow,” she said cheerily before hanging up. I watched as she placed her phone back in her bag and turned to face me. “Apparently, Alicia’s organising for everyone to have drinks tomorrow night to celebrate the first week of rehearsals. It’s a little early to be celebrating anything, if you ask me, but it could be fun. Do you want to go? I’m sure Alicia will ask you when you see her tomorrow either way.”

  “Are you going?” I asked, stepping closer so there was less than a foot of space between us.

  “Yep, it’ll be good to blow off some steam.”

  “Then I’ll go, but…I don’t really know anyone.”

  She began putting on her coat and handed me mine. “Well, maybe you could use this as an opportunity to get acquainted with the rest of the cast. Alcohol is a fantastic social lubricant, you know.”

  I grimaced. “I’m a horrible drunk.”

  Rose grinned. “Oh, really? Do you start spouting insults and telling everyone what you really think of them?”

  “Something like that.”

  It was a lie, but fuck if I was telling her the truth. Ale turned me into a randy bastard, and I was certain that if I got drunk around Rose, I’d try doing all the things I’d so far only been picturing in my head. Best to only have one or two pints tomorrow, then.

  “I get really giddy when I’m drunk, laughing at stuff that isn’t even funny. You’ll see. It’s irritating as hell.”

  I bet it was more cut
e than irritating, but I let her think I believed her all the same. Rose locked up and we left the studio, sharing a taxi home since we lived so close to one another. It had been a real stroke of luck, actually. Jacob had rented out the house for me, and though it was way bigger than what I was used to or needed, I liked that it meant Rose was within reach.

  We got to her place first, and she grabbed her bag, then opened the door. Before she got out, she turned back to me. “You did great tonight, really. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and smiled warmly.

  “See you tomorrow, Rose,” I replied, and made a concerted effort to return her smile. It was awkward and stilted, but her eyes still lit up. She must’ve thought I was a right grumpy old bastard with the way I went around frowning all the time. The trouble was that a smile made you vulnerable. It showed a person you liked them, gave them a strange power over you. Or maybe I was just a freak to think it did. After a moment Rose shook her head.

  “Not a single bloody clue,” she muttered to herself, getting out and closing the door behind her. Twisting in my seat, I watched her climb the steps to her flat and wondered what she meant.

  Eight.

  *Rose*

  Damon was really starting to learn how to dance. I had to admit, despite my confidence, there had been a small part of me that wondered if he would. It was the morning after our lesson, and though I was supposed to be concentrating on work, my mind kept wandering to the night before. I’d definitely felt something more than friendship when his warm palm flattened out on my back while we danced. And when his fingers interlocked with mine, I couldn’t help fixating on how big and masculine they were.

  God.

  It was happening again.

  I was developing feelings for an actor, and it had to stop now before it got out of hand. I was the first person to admit I had a problem, that I fell for people too quickly. It was the sort of thing that had doomed my mother to a life half lived, and I wasn’t going to let myself go down the same path.

  Damon, of course, was different. He wasn’t like the other actors I’d fallen for. He was introverted, unsure of himself, and completely oblivious as to just how earth-shatteringly handsome he was. The men I’d liked in the past had been vain, egotistical, and knew exactly the effect their looks had on women.