He was paired with her three weeks ago, and she really beat him up for being such a crappy imitation of Fred Astaire.”
Drew chuckled. “She can be a real warrior. I can’t say as I blame Frank. Tell him next time he should break out the serious hardware and bring a wheelchair.”
“In truth, I don’t blame him either. Sometimes Myriam—”
“Mel!” someone yelled from behind her.
Her head swiveled in the direction of the voice— familiar and so welcome.
Neil Jensen, her old dance partner rushed up to her, pulling her into an embrace and whirling her around.
Mel clung to his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek with a grin so wide, her face hurt. Being in Neil’s arms was like coming home. A piece of her scattered jigsaw puzzle of a life instantly fell back into place, tucking into a corner, right where it should be. “What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless and giddy as she ran a hand over his thick head of blond hair, giving it a hard scrub of her fist.
Neil kissed her hard on the lips and grinned back. “I came to save you from yourself, Mel’s Bell’s. Your dad called me and told me to grease my white horse to save the damsel in distress, and here I am.”
Mel buried her face in his neck with a sigh of relief and a giggle of complete joy. “I’m so glad to see you! You have no idea how glad.”
Without fair warning, a tear stung her eye. Neil represented so many happy memories. Their friendship was one she’d treasured since they were paired together way back at Miss Gina’s School for Dance when they were ten. They’d worked together, won several titles together, for almost nine years until the lights of Broadway and Stan had lured her away.
Neil’s brown eyes, soft like dark chocolate satin, were sympathetic. He pressed a finger to her cheek to thwart her escaping tear.
“I know all about it, lead foot. I watch TV, and your dad told me what little I didn’t know. I tried getting in touch with you, but finding you was like trying to find the Holy Grail.”
Mel clung to his neck. “I know. It’s …” She shot a sidelong glance at Drew, who hovered but kept his eyes averted. “We’ll talk later. You will be here later, right?” Worry saturated her words. Suddenly, Neil’s presence was like a lifeline to a world she had lost her way in, and she wasn’t ready to let go of it.
Neil nodded. “The show’s on hiatus until January. I have more time than a prisoner in solitary on my hands. I’m all yours for as long as you need me.”
Mel wasn’t sure if she saw Drew’s eyes roll or if it was just a trick of the now-dimmed lighting for the free dance.
Either way, it was rude not to introduce them. “Neil Jensen? This is Drew McPhee. I teach his son, Nate, at Westmeyer— my new job, which I’ll explain later. His Aunt Myriam’s a senior here in the Village. Neil’s my old dance partner from way back in the day when I was competing. He’s a choreographer on Celebrity Ballroom now. You know, the show that takes celebrities and turns them into ballroom dancers?” She shook her head with a chuckle. How stupid of her to think Drew would watch anything but American Choppers and the Playboy Channel. “Forget it. You wouldn’t know what I mean.”
Neil extended his hand and Drew took it, giving it a hard shake that made Mel frown in confusion. But Neil’s good nature, always a buffer, took over, and he either ignored Drew’s brash attempt at showing off his manhood or didn’t care. “Nice to meet you, Drew. Your son has the best ballroom teacher in all of Jersey,” he said on a smile then turned his captivating grin on Mel. “Speaking of ballroom— wanna show them how this is done?” he thumbed over his broad shoulder at the crowd of dancers, holding out his right hand to her. “Good meeting you, Drew,” Neil said with another smile, throwing his hand out to Mel.
As it was, and always would be, placing her hand in Neil’s was a homecoming— a swell of familiar
Drew chuckled. “She can be a real warrior. I can’t say as I blame Frank. Tell him next time he should break out the serious hardware and bring a wheelchair.”
“In truth, I don’t blame him either. Sometimes Myriam—”
“Mel!” someone yelled from behind her.
Her head swiveled in the direction of the voice— familiar and so welcome.
Neil Jensen, her old dance partner rushed up to her, pulling her into an embrace and whirling her around.
Mel clung to his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek with a grin so wide, her face hurt. Being in Neil’s arms was like coming home. A piece of her scattered jigsaw puzzle of a life instantly fell back into place, tucking into a corner, right where it should be. “What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless and giddy as she ran a hand over his thick head of blond hair, giving it a hard scrub of her fist.
Neil kissed her hard on the lips and grinned back. “I came to save you from yourself, Mel’s Bell’s. Your dad called me and told me to grease my white horse to save the damsel in distress, and here I am.”
Mel buried her face in his neck with a sigh of relief and a giggle of complete joy. “I’m so glad to see you! You have no idea how glad.”
Without fair warning, a tear stung her eye. Neil represented so many happy memories. Their friendship was one she’d treasured since they were paired together way back at Miss Gina’s School for Dance when they were ten. They’d worked together, won several titles together, for almost nine years until the lights of Broadway and Stan had lured her away.
Neil’s brown eyes, soft like dark chocolate satin, were sympathetic. He pressed a finger to her cheek to thwart her escaping tear.
“I know all about it, lead foot. I watch TV, and your dad told me what little I didn’t know. I tried getting in touch with you, but finding you was like trying to find the Holy Grail.”
Mel clung to his neck. “I know. It’s …” She shot a sidelong glance at Drew, who hovered but kept his eyes averted. “We’ll talk later. You will be here later, right?” Worry saturated her words. Suddenly, Neil’s presence was like a lifeline to a world she had lost her way in, and she wasn’t ready to let go of it.
Neil nodded. “The show’s on hiatus until January. I have more time than a prisoner in solitary on my hands. I’m all yours for as long as you need me.”
Mel wasn’t sure if she saw Drew’s eyes roll or if it was just a trick of the now-dimmed lighting for the free dance.
Either way, it was rude not to introduce them. “Neil Jensen? This is Drew McPhee. I teach his son, Nate, at Westmeyer— my new job, which I’ll explain later. His Aunt Myriam’s a senior here in the Village. Neil’s my old dance partner from way back in the day when I was competing. He’s a choreographer on Celebrity Ballroom now. You know, the show that takes celebrities and turns them into ballroom dancers?” She shook her head with a chuckle. How stupid of her to think Drew would watch anything but American Choppers and the Playboy Channel. “Forget it. You wouldn’t know what I mean.”
Neil extended his hand and Drew took it, giving it a hard shake that made Mel frown in confusion. But Neil’s good nature, always a buffer, took over, and he either ignored Drew’s brash attempt at showing off his manhood or didn’t care. “Nice to meet you, Drew. Your son has the best ballroom teacher in all of Jersey,” he said on a smile then turned his captivating grin on Mel. “Speaking of ballroom— wanna show them how this is done?” he thumbed over his broad shoulder at the crowd of dancers, holding out his right hand to her. “Good meeting you, Drew,” Neil said with another smile, throwing his hand out to Mel.
As it was, and always would be, placing her hand in Neil’s was a homecoming— a swell of familiar
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