Shannon held her close, then pulled back slightly to see her face better. “Oh my goodness, but you’re beautiful.”
“Stop. You are beautiful, too.” Smiling over her shoulder at Traci, she said, “And for what it’s worth, over the last couple of years I’ve had the chance to see a lot of pretty things and people. But, I promise, nothing holds a candle to you two.”
Pulling away from the both of them, Shannon smiled so big that her teeth were getting cold. “Having you two here? Knowing that I have sisters after growing up as an only child? It’s a miracle. Definitely the answer to a lot of prayers.”
Some of the warmth that had filled Traci’s gaze cooled. “Prayers and a good DNA test, huh?”
Shannon nodded. “Absolutely.”
Stepping away, she took another long look at her sisters. Both had dark brown eyes and brown hair like her. She tried to see if there was anything more that they shared. She couldn’t see anything, though.
No, they were essentially strangers. Strangers that she had so many hopes for. Doubts filled her again as the three of them dropped their hands and simply stared at each other.
Taking her in. Taking in their new home, their new town. Their new life. Did they have doubts?
Worse, were they already regretting their decisions to give up so much for a bond they weren’t even sure they would ever actually have?
“So, this is it,” Traci said.
Kimber looked up at the three-story building and smiled. “It’s just like I imagined.”
They were standing on the street in the snow.
“Welcome home,” she said, finally remembering what was important and what wasn’t. “Come on in and get out of the cold.”
Popping the trunk, Traci went over and grabbed a pair of duffle bags. “Lead the way, Shannon. I can’t wait to see it all.”
After Kimber grabbed her designer suitcase, Shannon steeled her shoulders and led the way in. It was time to move forward. To begin again.
CHAPTER 1
“Dancing in heels should count as a superpower.”
—Molly W.
January, Two Months Later
When the set of bells chimed on the front door to Dance with Me, her finally finished dance studio, Shannon felt a burst of satisfaction. Her very first private client had arrived, and right on time, too.
After taking a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she smoothed her dress down on her thighs and strode forward to meet the man who was standing in the small lobby. “Hi, I’m Shannon Murphy,” she said as she held out her hand. “Are you Dylan Lange?”
The man who looked like he could have played quarterback for the Broncos stared at her for a good long moment before clasping her hand in his. “Yeah, I am. It’s nice to meet you.”
His palm was gargantuan. She was sure two of her hands could neatly fit inside it. Yet, he clasped her hand in a way that was both firm and gentle. That was no small feat, she reckoned. Most men either shook her hand so lightly it felt like she was holding onto a limp trout or with so much pressure it felt more like a vice than a hello.
Thinking that this simple handshake was a sign of good things to come, she smiled up at him. “It’s real nice to meet you, too.”
“Thanks for fitting me into your schedule on such late notice. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’m always happy to help someone learn to dance—especially when I hear that they’re in a bind.”
When he smiled at her, faint lines formed around his blue eyes. He really did have nice eyes. And, yes, she could admit it, she liked how the rest of him looked, too. He had dark-blond hair, a light tan, and those blue eyes . . . And his teeth? Perfectly straight and pure white. Immediately she switched her comparison from pro football lineman to Coppertone model.
As what she was doing hit her, she felt her cheeks heat. She knew better than to start fantasizing about her clients. She liked to keep things professional and organized. For her, it was a needed element since she spent much of her time in such close proximity with her students. Things could get out of hand fast if she allowed anything to become personal while fox-trotting or waltzing in her ballroom.
When she noticed that he was looking around the lobby and the large room off to the side, she knew it was time to get to business.
Walking toward the antique desk she’d bought for a song, and Traci and Kimber had helped her refurbish, she gestured to the pair of chairs next to it. “Dylan, come on in. We’ll have a seat, get all the paperwork done and discuss your goals.” Motioning to the neat line of antique silver hooks that lined the wall, she added, “There’s a place for you to hang up your coat, too.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged out of his black wool peacoat and hung it on a hook. Looking more awkward, he shoved his hands into his pockets instead of sitting down. “It’s pretty cold out, huh?”
“It sure is. There’s no way around it—January is for the birds.”
And, now she had succeeded in sounding like an old woman. What was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip.
Clearing her throat, she gestured to the chairs again. “Please sit down.”
When he did at last, she pushed forward one of the packets of information she’d worked so hard on. She loved how the contents were comprehensive but not too overwhelming. She’d learned over the years that it was a mistake to pass on too much information to a student too quickly. “So, here’s all the information about the classes and fees. We went over all of this on the phone.”
He scanned the page. “Okay . . .”
“Here is a basic health form. If you could fill it out now, it would be helpful.”
“I’m a cop. I’m in good shape.”
Oh yes, he certainly was. Still a little embarrassed that she’d been ogling him, Shannon handed him a pen. “This is just in case you have a heart condition or something I need to know about.”
“Is that really a concern?”
“It can be.” Remembering Mr. Gerome back in Spartan and how he seemed to be last person to realize that he wasn’t too steady on his feet, she swallowed. “It’s just a precaution. I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand that you take this dancing stuff pretty seriously.” He smirked.
Ouch. She wasn’t a big fan of his attitude.
She smiled tightly. “I know it seems unlikely, but some of our sessions might be more active than you realize.” When he raised a brow, she shrugged. “All I really need from you is a signature saying that you are aware of the health risks associated with being here.”