David nodded from the front row of the mostly empty theater as they rehearsed. Performers were allowed to invite friends and family to watch, but on a sunny day like today few people had shown up. She recognized the fiancé of a member of the chorus and the mother of the Pirate King, but not the man now leaning against the wall at the back of the theater. Squinting through the bright stage lights, she was just able to make out his face.
Jay.
A thrill of excitement shot down her spine. Never in a million years would she have expected to see him here, especially when he’d told her he planned to spend the day at the office. Her heart pounded even harder than it had the day Antoine Vaillancourt, star of her high school drama club, had accepted her invitation to come for a free large fries at Big Joe’s Burgers, where she’d worked as a cashier during her sophomore year.
She twirled her parasol, belting out the words to the song with such enthusiasm that the performers next to her shot her curious glances. Heart racing, her smile stretching her cheeks to the max, she spun faster, kicked higher, jumped farther, threw out her arms, and accidentally slapped the woman beside her on the back of her head.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t stop,” David shouted.
Zara joined the rest of the chorus as they played ball with a red balloon. She felt hyperaware of Jay watching, and curiously self-conscious. The balloon drifted toward her and she batted it away so hard, it hit Julia—a lackluster Kate—in the face, throwing her off the beat.
“Stop the music.” David jumped up from his seat. “Julia, you’ll have to start over.”
“It’s not my fault,” Julia snapped. “Zara attacked the balloon like she was trying to score an Olympic gold in beach volleyball.”
“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Zara’s cheeks heated. “It was just overinflated.”
“You’re going to have to deal with the unexpected every time we perform,” David said. “The show must go on. You can’t get distracted.” He checked his watch. “I think we’re done for the day. Let’s all get out and enjoy the sunshine.”
Zara left with the rest of the cast to change her clothes and have a quick word with the prop master about balloon alternatives for the picnic scene. By the time she was done, the playhouse had cleared out. She found Jay waiting for her beside the stage.
“I can’t believe you came.” She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.
His arms tightened around her. “You said you would have invited me if I’d been free. I didn’t want to miss the chance to see you, so I asked Elias to handle the meeting with Lucia.”
“I never imagined you’d be interested after I threw you out of my apartment.” She released him when he gave an indignant huff.
“You didn’t throw me out. I left of my own volition.”
“It was a metaphorical throw.” She sat on the edge of the stage, and he eased himself up beside her.
“That’s the problem with lawyers,” he said. “You’re too good with words. Simple guys like me don’t have a chance.”
“You’re hardly simple. A little uptight, perhaps. Definitely a workaholic. Inflexible. Controlling. Maybe a bit broody—”
“I’ll stop you right there before my ego gets too big to contain.” His lips twitched at the corners. With his shirt open and his suit jacket folded neatly in his lap, he looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him during the day.
“What did you think of the rehearsal?”
“It was very entertaining,” he said. “I wish I could dance like that. I have two left feet and no sense of rhythm. Avi doesn’t know what he’s in for when I show up for his groom squad dance rehearsals. I’m probably unteachable.”
Zara jumped up on the stage and held out her hand. “I’ll show you a few moves.”
Jay hesitated, searching the empty theater. He was always so concerned about his image and reputation, and yet when they were alone together, he was a different man.
“Everyone is gone,” she assured him, pulling up the “Dhinka Chika” remix on her phone. “It’s just us. You can screw up as badly as you want and no one will see you.”
Jay jumped up on the stage and carefully placed his folded jacket over a Styrofoam rock.
“Hands in your pockets and move them from side to side.” She demonstrated the move, swaying in time to the music.
Jay gave her a horrified look. “I might be morally corrupted if I spend too much time with you.”
“After last night, I’m pretty sure it would be the other way around.” She rocked her hips back and forth. “Keep your hands in your pockets and do this, or are you not familiar with the pelvic thrust?”
“I think you know the answer to that question,” he said, his voice smug.
Watching him now, it was hard to believe this was the same man she’d met on the paintball field. Beneath the walls and the shadows, he had an almost playful sense of humor.
“I am at once delighted and horrified to know that you excel at that move.” She danced beside him, keeping him to the beat.
“ ‘Horrified’ is not a word commonly associated with my bedroom skills,” he said dryly.
“Jay Dayal.” Her hands found her rolling hips. “Are you cracking jokes?”
“Not about things that matter.”
He was suddenly serious and Zara’s skin prickled in warning. She liked what they had. A little sex. A little fun. Maybe even a little friendship. Why mess it up with “things that matter”?
“At least now I know how to motivate you to stay on the beat.” She held her hands in front of her, palms forward, fingers slightly curved, wrists rotating back and forth. “Keep thrusting and add this movement.”
“I am shocked by your filthy mind.”
She slapped a hand to her chest. “In my innocence I cannot imagine what you find offensive about turning two doorknobs at once, but I suspect you’ll prove a master of this move, too.”
Jay proved adept at turning doorknobs while doing a pelvic thrust so she motioned for him to stop. “I have one more for you. It’s very easy. You don’t need to move your feet. Just your hands.”
“Am I turning on or off light switches?” He lifted an inquisitive brow. “Jackhammering concrete? Painting a fence or waxing a car?”
“I’m opening your belt.”
He jerked back when she reached for his buckle. “I don’t think—”