"Roberts, Nora - Stanislaski 08 - Dance of Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

again. "And I don'tЧ"
"Do you still see the designer?" Nick interrupted her coolly.
"The designer has a name," she said sharply. "Donald Keyser. You make him sound
like a label on a dress."
"Do I?" Nick gave her a guileless smile. "But you don't answer my question."
"No, I don't." Ruth lifted the glass of Perrier and sipped calmly, though a
flash of temper leaped into her eyes.
"Ruth, are you still seeing him?"
"That's none of your business." She made her voice light, but the steel was
beneath it.
"You are a member of the company." Though his eyes blazed into hers, he
enunciated each word carefully. "I am the director."
"Have you also taken over the role of Father Confessor?" Ruth tossed back. "Must
your dancers check out their lovers with you?"
"Be careful how you provoke me," he warned.
"I don't have to justify my social life to you, Nick," she shot back without a
pause. "I go to class, I'm on time for rehearsals. I work hard."
"Did I ask you to justify anything?"
"Not really. But I'm tired of you playing the role of stern uncle with me." A
frown line ran down between her brows as she stepped closer to him. "I have an
uncle already, and I don't need you to look over my shoulder."
"Don't you?'' He plucked a loose pin from her hair and twirled it idly between
his thumb and forefinger while his eyes pierced into hers.
His casual tone fanned her fury. "No!" She tossed her head. "Stop treating me
like a child."
Nick gripped her shoulders, surprising her with the quick violence. She was
drawn hard against him, molded to the body she knew so well. But this was
different. There were no music or steps or storyline. She could feel his
angerЧand something more, something just as volatile. She knew he was capable of
sudden bursts of rage, and she knew how to deal with them, but nowЕ
Her body was responding, astonishing her. Their hearts beat against each other.
She could feel his fingertips digging into her flesh, but there was no pain. The
hands she had brought up to shove him away with were now balled loosely into
fists and held motionlessly aloft.
He dropped his eyes to her lips. A sharp pang of longing struck herЧsharper,
sweeter than anything she had ever experienced. It left her dazed and aching.
Slowly, knowing only that what she wanted was a breath away, Ruth leaned
forward, letting her lids sink down in preparation for his kiss. His breath
whispered on her lips, and hers parted. She said his name once, wonderingly.
Then, with a jerk and a muttered Russian oath, Nikolai pushed her away. "You
should know better," he said, biting off the words, "than to deliberately make
me angry."
"Was that what you were feeling?" she asked, stung by his rejection.
"Don't push it." Nick tossed off the American slang with a movement of his
shoulders. Temper lingered in his eyes. "Stick with your designer," he murmured
at length in a quieter tone as he turned back to the piano. "Since he seems to
suit you so well."
He sat again and began to play, dismissing her with silence.