Christmas Eve, and yet here he was, ready to dance. Ready to train. Eager for it even. But so much more eager to see Paige, who looked positively gorgeous this morning, in close-fitting dance pants and a crop top that revealed an inch or so of toned skin. But when she saw him and he opened his mouth, he realized that he wasn’t sure what to say—or how to say it. Not when he had a feeling that getting it just right was crucially important right now, especially given the wary look in Paige’s eyes. “Yesterday…at the rink...” “You danced really, really well,” she cut in. “And now that we know exactly what you’re capable of, we’ve really got to get cracking so that you can blow your director and co-star away when you show up on set in January.” He knew he still had a great deal to learn, but that didn’t mean they needed to ignore the kiss they’d shared, did it? Last night, after he’d left her to dance alone in the studio, he’d felt bereft without their usual takeout and movie.
