She drew in a deep breath. ‘I have to go. I have a class in a little under an hour.’
Darius frowned. Okay, so his emotions had been so—so confused these past five days that he had made a conscious decision not to call Miranda again until he knew what was going on in his head, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her constantly since Sunday. That he hadn’t relived and enjoyed, over and over again, the memories of the two of them making love together. Or that he hadn’t puzzled over exactly why that was. And what it meant...
Because he had done all of those things.
And he had also known when he’d got out of bed this morning, after another restless night’s sleep thinking about her, that this couldn’t go on any longer, that he needed to see her again, to kiss her, to make love to her. He had fully intended to see Miranda later today.
Walking into his mother’s home and finding Miranda calmly drinking tea from one of his mother’s twee china cups had been the last thing he had expected!
He gazed down at her hungrily now through narrowed lids and he knew exactly why he had so badly needed to see and be with her again.
‘I would love to stand here and talk to you all morning,’ she now told Darius with ill-concealed insincerity as she gave an impatient glance down at her wristwatch, ‘but I really do have a class in just under an hour. And you’re obviously here to visit your mother,’ she reminded him.
‘You and I need to talk.’
‘Some other time,’ she dismissed distractedly, her smile bright and meaningless as she turned to go down the rest of the steps and along the path towards the metal gate leading out onto the street.
Darius watched in frustration the gentle sway of Miranda’s hips as she let herself out of the gate before turning and walking the short distance to where her car was parked further down the street. She unlocked the door and got in behind the wheel before turning on the engine and driving away.
All without so much as giving him even the briefest backward glance, and the contained expression on Miranda’s face as she drove away told him that she had already dismissed him.
His first instinct was to follow her right now, and demand that she finish their conversation. He also intuited that Miranda didn’t want to talk to him.
Well, to hell with that!
The two of them needed to talk. Not least about the conversation she had overheard at the hospital a week ago between himself and Xander.
* * *
‘So this is your little dance studio...’
Andy had been in the middle of her limbering down routine, following her late morning class, but she turned sharply now to look across the studio to where Tia Bellamy posed elegantly in the doorway.
Tia looked as beautiful as ever, in a fitted black dress, and four-inch-heeled strappy sandals—instantly making Andy aware of how dishevelled and sweaty she was in her leotard, the dampness of her hair confined in a topknot, the flatness of her ballet shoes also making her several inches shorter than Tia.
Deliberately so?
Probably, Andy conceded heavily as she picked up a towel and draped it about the dampness of her neck and shoulders, before answering the other woman. ‘Yes, this is my dance studio.’
Blue eyes swept over the mirrored room contemptuously, that gaze no less condescending as it returned to Andy. ‘I suppose it’s one way to make a living.’
‘I suppose it is,’ Andy echoed wryly; the gloves definitely appeared to be off today. Not such a surprise, when there was no male audience for Tia to play to! ‘What can I do for you, Tia?’ she enquired briskly as she tidied the benches along one wall, picking up a stray towel here and there ready for the laundry. ‘I take it this isn’t a social call?’
‘Hardly, when you and I were never friends to begin with.’ Tia made no attempt to hide her disdain.
Andy gave her a considering look. ‘Why was that? What was it about me that you disliked from the moment we were first introduced?’
‘Don’t be naive, Andy,’ the older woman replied sharply.
‘I’m not.’ Andy’s expression was genuinely perplexed as she gave a shake of her head. ‘I truly have no idea what I ever did to you to make you dislike me so much.’
Blue eyes narrowed viciously. ‘You existed!’
Andy’s breath caught at the back of her throat at the sound of the other woman’s vitriol. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Of course you don’t.’ Tia continued to glare at her. ‘You were such a little innocent it never even occurred to you that I was older than you, more senior than you in the ballet company, and that it should have been me who was chosen to dance the lead in Giselle and Swan Lake, rather than being chosen as your understudy.’
‘It wasn’t—I wasn’t responsible for making those choices.’ Andy gave a dazed shake of her head.
Tia snorted scornfully. ‘Oh, everyone talked for months about how wonderful you were—the ballet company, other dancers, the public. You were tipped to be the next Fonteyn.’ Her top lip curled. ‘What a pity you ultimately weren’t able to live up to all that potential!’
‘That wasn’t my fault.’
‘Isn’t that the age-old cry of every failure that ever lived?’ Tia strolled further into the studio, the coldness of her gaze sweeping disparagingly over all that Andy had worked so hard to achieve and build these past years.
Andy remembered what Darius’s response had been the night she had called herself a failure. ‘I didn’t fail, Tia, I just made a career change because of my circumstances.’
Tia gave a smile much like a cat that had lapped up a bowl of cream. ‘And what circumstances would those be, Andy?’
Andy let out an impatient sigh. ‘Look, Tia, I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing here...what possible reason you could have for deliberately seeking me out in this way.’ Because, there was no denying it, the other woman had come here deliberately. ‘But I think it obvious from our brief conversation that we have nothing left to say to each other.’
‘You may have nothing to say to me, but I still have plenty of things to say to you,’ Tia bit out coldly. ‘The main one being that I want you to refuse Catherine Latimer’s invitation to dance at the gala next month.’
Andy blinked. ‘How could you possibly even know about that?’
‘How?’ Tia bit out disgustedly. ‘Because the stupid woman telephoned me yesterday with the idea, if you agree to perform at all, of asking the two of us to dance together at the finale after dancing individually. I am a prima ballerina.’ Blue eyes flashed. ‘I do not dance with performers who are inferior.’
‘It’s a charity gala, Tia.’
‘That doesn’t mean it should be performed by people who are charity cases themselves!’
Andy flinched at the other woman’s deliberate cruelty.
Admittedly, she hadn’t had a chance to finish her conversation with Catherine Latimer this morning, because of Darius’s unexpected arrival, but she had to agree that Catherine’s idea, of Tia and Andy dancing on stage together at the end of the gala performance next month, was ludicrous. Even the hours they would necessarily have to spend together rehearsing would be impossible, let alone the two of them actually dancing on stage together in public.
‘I’ll speak to her.’
‘You