Before I Do Amazon (4 page)

"It will be even better for you to have your own day," Julie replied. "But that does mean you're all going to have to buy another bridesmaid's dress when Matt and I tie the knot."

Isabella grinned. With two weddings done and Liz's upcoming nuptials, she already had three bridesmaid's dresses in her closet. Thankfully, her friends had pretty good taste so she'd be able to wear some of them again.

"I can't believe I'm going to be someone's wife," Liz murmured, with a bewildered shake of her head. "I thought I'd be the last of us to get married."

"Michael has had his eye on you since high school," Julie reminded Liz. "And you were just as enamored with him. You both just had to get over being competitors so you could be lovers."

"Very true," Liz agreed.

Isabella shook her head as Liz and Julie exchanged happy glances. "While I love seeing both of you in love, I think I'm going to have to start hanging out with the single women in our group before I start feeling like a complete loser."

"You're not a loser, you're just picky," Julie said.

"And I have a better idea for you," Liz put in. "Give Nicholas Hunter a chance to be more than a student."

"I don't think that's a wise idea. That man has heartbreaker written all over him."

"Since when have you been afraid to throw yourself in the air and hope someone will catch you?" Liz challenged. "You've always been the one willing to jump first, ask questions later."

"Is it because of what happened with Carter?" Julie ventured warily, as if unsure how Isabella would react to the mention of her last boyfriend and their painful breakup.

"I don't know. Maybe. But I'm not really focused on having a relationship right now. I have more important things to worry about than finding a man. I need to figure out how to buy my aunt's studio without borrowing money from my friends."

"Maybe some targeted fundraisers would bring in some cash," Julie suggested, her expertise in non-profit fundraising making her the perfect person to suggest that option

"Or an outreach to dance patrons," Liz put in, using her P.R. skills. "There must be some wealthy people who would like to support a studio of dancers. You have to figure out what to offer them in return."

"Okay, let's keep going," she said, happy to have two smart women to help her figure things out.

* * *

Isabella walked into her studio after lunch with a few new ideas spinning around her head, thanks to Liz and Julie. While most of the fundraisers seemed like long shots, they might bring in enough cash to at least make a down payment. Perhaps her aunt would let her pay the rest over time. Feeling more optimistic, she put her bag into the drawer behind the counter and checked the computer for any urgent emails.

"Isabella, thank God you're here," Ricardo said bursting through the hallway door with panic in his eyes. "Why didn't you answer my texts?"

"My phone was off. I just got back. What's wrong?"

"A water pipe burst in the ceiling. By the time we got the main valve shut off, both studios were flooded."

"Tell me you're kidding," she breathed.

"I wish I were. This is an old building. Your aunt has been holding things together with duct tape and a prayer the last ten years. You know that."

She knew money had always been tight but not that there were problems with the building itself. "It will be fine. We'll clean up, dry things off." She started to move past him so she could see the damage, but he blocked her way.

"It's not going to be that easy. The hardwood floors are damaged. They'll need to be completely redone. Jenny is in the back office calling all of our students. We'll have to cancel for at least a week or two, possibly more."

"Maybe it won't take that long."

"It's going to take time just to find contractors to do the work. I called Rhea. She'll be here in thirty minutes."

Great. Her aunt would no doubt see this latest disaster as a reason to sell out quickly as possible, although maybe the buyer would have second thoughts if he saw the damage. She hated to think that way, but she was trying to find a silver lining. "Let me take a look."

She walked down the hallway and into the main studio, staring in horror at the dripping walls and deep puddles of water that two of her staff members were trying to mop up with towels. It was worse than she'd expected.

"It's not just the floors we have to worry about; it's also the plumbing," Ricardo added. "Obviously, the pipes will have to be replaced. The showers, toilets, and sinks won't be usable until we have water again. It's not going to be an easy fix."

"We'll find a way," she said, feeling a little desperate to believe her own words.

"I don't know, Isabella. Maybe it's time for both of us to move on. Your aunt is already halfway out the door. And your injury is completely healed now. You could go back to dancing. Your career was just taking off when you got hurt."

"It's been too long. I can't go back. That part of my life is over."

"It doesn't have to be."

"I don't want to talk about the past; I need to concentrate on the present. We have insurance. That should pay for something. We'll get bids to repair everything. We'll find a way to make it work." She raised her chin in the air and gave him a determined look. "Don't quit on me, Ricardo. I need you here."

"I have bills to pay, too."

"I'm confident that I can turn things around."

He shrugged. "I won't make any decisions for a week. Longer than that, I can't promise."

"I'll take whatever I can get." She paused, her mind whirring with how to deal with the most immediate problems. While repairs were urgent, they also needed to keep the income flowing in. "Maybe we can move some of our private lessons to the homes of our students."

"Good idea. You don't have any privates until next week, do you?"

"Actually, I have one tonight—Nicholas Hunter."

"Nicholas Hunter, right," Ricardo muttered. "He lives in a mansion in Pacific Heights."

"How do you know that?"

"I looked him up last night. I was curious about him. He has a big portfolio."

"I'm not interested in his portfolio. He's just a student."

"A student with a lot of money. Maybe he'd like to make a donation to help with the repairs."

"He's taken one class. I can't ask him for money."

"Well, you're going to have to ask someone for money."

"I'd prefer that be a bank or the insurance company."

"You could mention our problems to Mr. Hunter. He might have some ideas. His father Thomas Hunter runs a venture capital firm."

"You looked up his father, too?"

"He was mentioned in the same article."

"Well, I doubt a venture capitalist would have any interest in a dance studio."

"Probably not," Ricardo agreed. "But we're desperate, and they can only say no. Just think about it."

"I'm going to think about everything, but let's take it one step at a time. Once we know what the insurance company will pay for, we'll have a better idea what kind of cash we're going to need."

"What about our classes? Are we just going to cancel?"

"We'll find another site. Maybe we can share space with another studio. Call Impulse Dance; they might be willing to share."

"All right."

"I'll make some calls tomorrow, too. It's going to work out, Ricardo. I'm not going to lose the studio."

"Well, if anyone can make a miracle happen, it's probably you."

Chapter Four

"She's late." Nicholas paced restlessly around the living room while Martin sat on the couch sipping a glass of wine and looking through the contracts they'd just finished signing.

"She'll be here," Martin said. "You should be happy that you didn't have to go down to the studio."

He would have actually preferred to continue his dance lessons at the studio, but that wasn't going to happen. Some plumbing crisis had apparently shut down the school, and Isabella had told him they could do it at his house or wait a few days. Since he didn't have a few days to wait, he had agreed to have her come to his house. Now, he wished he'd come up with another plan.

It wasn't that he didn't have plenty of room for a tango lesson in his two-story, five-bedroom, four-bath house, and his home was certainly private, but letting Isabella into his personal space made him uneasy. He'd already spent way too much time thinking about their conversation the night before.

She'd shared personal information with him, and he'd found himself liking her a lot. What he hadn't liked was the way she'd looked at him, like she could see into his head. He prided himself on his poker face, on not giving anything away, but she'd gotten to him with her sexy smile and those gorgeous eyes and the lips he couldn't stop thinking about tasting. He needed to keep their dance lessons professional and as short as possible.

"What's with you?" Martin asked, giving him a speculative glance. "She's not that late. It's three minutes after seven."

"Late is late. And my problem is you." He knew he sounded completely unreasonable, but he wanted to yell at someone, and Martin was unfortunately the only one around.

"Me?" Martin raised an eyebrow. "What did I do?"

"You let Juan add that amendment to the contract. You should have talked him out of it. What the hell kind of negotiator are you?"

"A damned good one, but I had no choice. It was the tango or nothing, and I didn't think you wanted nothing." Martin paused. "And if you want to blame someone, look in the mirror. You brought this on yourself by not opening up to Juan. He doesn't feel like he knows who you are."

"Well, he's not going to find out who I am by watching me dance the tango. I suck at it."

"You'll get better. I've never seen you fail to achieve a goal once you set your mind to it. You need to stop fighting the fact that you have to do this and just do it."

He frowned at Martin's good advice. "Easy for you to say. You're not going to have to take the stage."

"What are you going to do about a partner, Nick?"

"I don't know yet. Right now I'm just concentrating on my part."

"Juan did say he could provide you with a partner, so you don't have to take someone with you, but it might make you feel more comfortable to dance with someone you know."

"I doubt anything will make me feel comfortable."

The doorbell rang, and his pulse immediately jumped. He should be happy Isabella had arrived. The sooner they got started, the sooner this would be over, but he felt a strange sense of wariness as he opened the door.

Isabella wore a clingy red dress and high heels that showed off her great legs and beautiful body. Her brown hair was loose and fell around her shoulders in flowing silky waves. The smile in her dark brown eyes sent a rush of desire through his body. This was just a dance lesson he reminded himself. Nothing to get excited about.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "I hit some unexpected construction a few blocks from here."

"They're fixing a sinkhole," he replied.

"Apparently, I share plumbing problems with the city," she said lightly. "May I come in?"

"Of course," he said, stepping aside.

As she entered the house, she paused in the marble-floored foyer, an expression of awe filling her eyes. Her gaze swept the room, obviously taking note of the sweeping staircase, the crystal chandelier and the arched doorways leading into rooms on either side of the entry. "This is beautiful," she murmured. "Have you lived here long?"

"Only a year. I can't take credit for the décor. It was professionally decorated."

"The designer did an excellent job from what I've seen so far."

"I'll give you a tour later. Why don't you come into the living room?" He ushered her through the arched doorway on the left. Martin got up from the sofa and came forward with an interested smile on his face.

"This is Martin Hennessy, my vice president of operations—Isabella Martinez, my extremely talented dance teacher."

"It's nice to meet you," Isabella said, shaking Martin's hand.

"Likewise," Martin returned. "So do you think Nick has any hope of learning the tango in the next week?"

"Absolutely," she replied.

"That sounds confident. Can I get a preview?"

"Absolutely not," Nick cut in.

"Why not? I can give you a critique."

"I have Isabella for that. I don't need anyone else. I'll see you on Monday. Have a good weekend."

"You, too." Martin grabbed his jacket off the arm of the couch. "Good luck, Isabella. I think you're going to need it."

Nick glanced at Isabella as Martin left them alone. "Are you really as confident as you sound?"

"Yes. It's just a dance, Nick. I'm not trying to teach you how to do brain surgery in a week. I think we can come up with a passable tango over the next few days."

Her words brought a reluctant smile to his lips. "Am I your worst student?"

"Not even close. That would be Jeremy Walters."

"What's wrong with Jeremy?"

"He likes to trip whoever is next to him. But then, he's ten."

"So I'm not as bad as a ten-year-old."

"No. You just need to relax and stop fighting yourself."

"Easier said than done. Do you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm fine." She looked around the room. "I'm happy with the hardwood floors, but do you mind if I move some furniture around?"

"Not at all." He spent the next ten minutes pushing the couches against the wall and opening up some floor space.

"Now, the music," Isabella said. "I'm guessing you have some type of speaker system built in that I can plug my music into?"

He took the player out of her hand and popped it into the dock on the shelf. Within seconds, the room was filled with a sensual beat.

"So, do we start where we left off?" he asked.

"Actually, I just want you to listen to the music for a few moments. Don't think about it. Don't visualize steps in your head. Just let yourself feel it." She put her hand on his chest. "In here. In your heart."

He could feel the warmth of her hand through the thin dress shirt he wore, and it took a great deal of willpower not to cover her hand with his and hold her there for as long as he could. But Isabella was already moving away.