Come, Dance With Me - the protagonists meet for the first time when Sasha interviews Andrei for her television show.
The studio lights came on.
He stalked across the stage and sprawled in the empty chair, tossing the camera
a smile destined to send all the women in England swooning to their knees. One
flash of his perfect teeth, the glint of his dark, sexy eyes and the applause
of the live audience grew to deafening proportions. Crossing his long, lean, leather-clad legs,
he swivelled in his chair to greet the presenter.
He blinked. The blinding
studio lights made a halo around her hair and, as her face came slowly into
full focus, Andrei forgot his determination to be disobliging. She was smiling,
her pink lips stretched wide, her thick lashed eyes set wide apart, skin glowing,
hair writhing in vibrant snakes about the prettiest face he had ever seen. Her eyes met his and it was as if a hot
knife had been thrust into his chest, where his heart used to be.
He swallowed, leaned into
her welcome and she took his hand. Her
palms were warm, slightly moist but pleasantly so. She continued speaking, her
lips moving; he glimpsed the pink tip of her tongue and his attention lingered
on her mouth, waiting to see it again, wondering how soft her lips were, how
they would taste.
At first, he heard only the
music of her voice, the sense of her speech falling on his ears in a confused
jumble. He answered wildly, hoping that somehow his instincts would take over
and see him through. As her voice continued, his eyes left her wonderful face
to trickle down her luxuriant neck, resting for a moment on her full, red clad
breasts before travelling to her slim waist, and journeying along her lengthy,
slender legs.
‘When did you first learn to
dance, Mr Kovalevsky?’
He jerked his head, fumbling
for his senses, blinking into lights that were no more dazzling than his
hostess. He moistened his lips, cleared
his throat, wrenching his attention back to the matter in hand. Andrei tugged
at his tie, pulling himself together but his voice when it came was hoarse as
if he needed a drink.
‘Oh, I was a boy. M-my
mother is a great lover of the dance and she showed me …just the rudimentary
steps. Later, I took lessons and …it all took off from there really.’
‘Then the world owes your
mother a lot, Mr Kovalevsky. We all loved you in last season’s Celebrity Dance.
I’ve followed your career for a long time and I for one was gutted when you
only came second. Tell me, just how important is it for you to win? How
determined are you to lift that Celebrity Dance trophy?’
She was warming to the interview now. He raised his
head and looked into her bright eyes. It was like staring at the sun;
uncomfortable, dangerous but somehow compelling. He blinked and swallowed, a muscle in his jaw
tensing as he ran a hand through his hair, sending a ripple of delight through
the largely female audience.
‘Oh, you can rest assured,
Miss Johnson, I don’t care how long it takes but I will not rest until I have
won it.’
Tune in tomorrow for excerpt number two. Don't forget to leave a comment on any of these Valentine posts for a chance to win a signed paperback of Come, Dance With Me.
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