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

Chapter 2
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She must have imagined it. Ruth relived the surge of concentrated desire she had
experienced in Nick's arms. No, I'm wrong, she told herself again. I've been in
his arms countless times and never, never felt anything like that. And, Ruth
reminded herself as she showered off the grime of the day, I was in his arms a
half-dozen times after, when we went back to rehearsal.
There had been something, she admitted grudgingly as she recalled the crackling
tension in the air when they had gone over a passage time and time again. But it
had been annoyance, aggravation.
Ruth let the water flow and stream over her, plastering her hair to her naked
back. She tried, now that she was alone, to figure out her reaction to Nick's
sudden embrace.
Her response had been nakedly physical and shockingly urgent. On the other hand,
she could recall the warm pleasure of Donald's kissesЧthe soft, easily resisted
temptation. Donald used quiet words and gentle persuasion. He used all the
traditional trappings of seduction: flowers, candlelight, intimate dinners. He
made her feelЧRuth grasped for a word. Pleasant. She rolled her eyes, knowing no
man would be flattered with that description. Yet she had never experienced more
than pleasant with Donald or any other man she had known. And then, in one brief
moment, a man she had worked with for years, a man who could infuriate her with
a word or move her to tears with a dance, had caused an eruption inside her.
There had been nothing pleasant about it.
He never kissed me, she mused, losing herself for a moment in the remembering.
Or even held me, reallyЧnot as a lover would, butЕ
It was an accident, she told herself and switched off the shower with a jerk of
her wrist. A fluke. Just a chain reaction from the passion of the dance and the
anger of the argument.
Standing naked and wet, Ruth reached for a towel to dry herself. She began with
her hair. Her body was small and delicately built, thin by all but a dancer's
standards. She knew it intimately, as only a dancer could. Her limbs were long
and slender and supple.
It had been her classical dancer's buildЧand the fateful events of her lifeЧthat
had brought her to Lindsay years before.
Lindsay, Ruth smiled, remembering vividly her fiery dancing in Don Quixote, a
ballet Lindsay had starred in before she and Ruth had met. Ruth's smile became
wry as she recalled her first face-to-face meeting with the older dancer. It had
been years later, in Lindsay's small ballet school. Ruth had been both awed and
terrified. She had stated boldly that one day she, too, would dance in Don
Quixote!
And she had, Ruth remembered, wrapping a towel around her slim body. And Uncle
Seth and Lindsay had come, even though Lindsay had been nearly eight months
pregnant at the time. Lindsay had cried, and Nick had joked and teased her.
With a sigh, Ruth dropped the towel in a careless heap and reached for her robe.
Only Lindsay would have guessed that all was not quite right. Ruth belted the
thin fuchsia robe and picked up a comb. She had spoken of Donald, she
remembered, playing back their last phone conversation. She had told them about
the fabulous little chest she had found in the Village. They had chatted about