She waved her hand in a circular motion. “Meaning…” Yeah, squirm away, big guy.
“Meaning you have a kick-ass body, Stella, and you know it.” The smirk playing havoc with his mouth turned into a full-blown grin. “You weren’t expecting me to say that, were you?”
The ballet shoes dropped from her fingertips as she jammed her hands on her hips. “Do you torture me for some sick pleasure, or are you just naturally like that?”
He reached out and tugged on a strand of hair that had slipped from her ponytail. “So suspicious. Maybe I just like to put some color in those cheeks of yours.”
She swatted his hand away. “There are other ways of putting color in a woman’s cheeks,” she said, because, holy hell, her mouth had a mind of its own.
His brow knitted. “Is that an invitation? Because I thought you didn’t date parents of students.”
If she were a smart woman, and sometimes she seriously doubted the amount of brains in her head, she’d not issue an invitation to Brandon West. Because he’d take it without a backward glance. She held up a finger. “First of all, I don’t teach your child. And second of all, how did you know I have that rule?”
Brandon took a step closer to her. “I could hear every word of your conversation with that guy.”
“Or you were just eavesdropping.”
“I don’t eavesdrop.”
Stella couldn’t help the laugh that popped out of her. “So you don’t listen to other people’s conversations or do anything else you’re not supposed to? Because I find that hard to believe.”
“What’re you implying, Stella?” he asked as he took another step closer. “That I’m a rule breaker? A bad boy? I thought women liked bad boys.”
Yeah, but he was hardly a boy. No, Brandon West was all man. All hard, lean muscle that boys only dreamed of having. And why did he have to stand so close? Did he mean to invade her personal space? And why did she let him?
The familiar building of panic and sweat that always followed a claustrophobic moment started with a slow simmer in the pit of her stomach. The man towered over her, staring down at her out of eyes so dark that all she could see was her own reflection. Which meant he was too close. So close the heat from his skin brushed over hers like a puff of breath.
She took an instinctive step back, needing her space, needing room to breathe because Brandon sucked all the air from the room. But the inch of space she put between the two of them wasn’t enough because he was larger than life.
He grabbed her wrist, wrapping his thick fingers around her arm. “What’s wrong?”
A sweat broke out along her forehead when he touched her. She pulled her hand from his hold.
He held his hands up. “Sorry.”
She shook her head and tried to explain, but the words were caught in her throat. “It’s not you. It’s…”
Damn it! Her entire adult life, she’d worked so hard to overcome her anxiety. Had pushed through and told herself she was stronger than her panic attacks, that they wouldn’t define her. But something about Brandon brought all of that to the surface. Because when she saw him, she saw every beautiful man who’d charmed the pants off her mom, literally. Then Gloria had snatched Stella from whatever friends she’d managed to make and uproot her world over and over. Only, the thing was, Stella knew, in her heart, that Brandon wasn’t anything like that. He was a good man, but Stella’s fears wouldn’t allow her to see that far.
She turned from him, not wanting the man who’d starred in all her fantasies to see the anxiety on her face. The horror in her eyes for losing it so easily. He hadn’t even put his hands on her, and her body had threatened to explode. Her eyes dropped closed to hold back the tears that had pooled.
“Stella,” he said in a low voice.
She shook her head and pulled in a deep breath, willing her hammering heart to slow the eff down. “It’s not you,” she said again, because, apparently, she was incapable of saying anything else. Because, if nothing more, she needed Brandon to know he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“You said that already,” he told her.
“I don’t like people getting too close to me,” she explained.
He came around so he was facing her. “I can see that.” His brow knitted with concern. “But you weren’t like that with your student,” he pointed out. “So is it just men? Or me?”
“You asked me that once before,” she reminded him.
He nodded his agreement. “Yeah, I did. But you didn’t really answer me.” He paused and let the statement hang between them. “Did you?”
So what if she hadn’t? Why was he so curious?
Um.…maybe he was just wants to help?
“You never did tell me why you came by,” she mentioned, instead of letting him in. Better to keep him away so she didn’t make the same mistake her mother always made.
He stared at her as though he wanted to argue, which he probably did. He wasn’t the type of guy to let a subject just drop. No, it would come up again. But he wouldn’t pressure her; she knew that.
“I thought about your offer to help Matt,” he told her.
“Oh?” she asked now that her heart had slowed down. “I thought ballet was for girls.”
“Are you still interested?”
“Are you going to tell me I was right all along?”
One corner of his mouth kicked up, sending her heart into her throat. The man had a melt-your-bones smile and knew just when and how to use it.
“If I do that, will you agree to work with him?”
She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’d work with him anyway. I just wanted you to admit defeat.”
His half-smile grew. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a sick mind?”
“You just remember my no-dating-of-the-parents rule.” She waved a finger at him. “Don’t be trying anything funny.”
“If I try anything, Stella, it won’t be funny and you definitely wouldn’t laugh.”
She didn’t doubt that for a second. And that’s what scared her.
Six
Brandon drove away from the studio gripping the steering wheel and adjusting himself in his Dockers because damn that woman. Stella Davenport had no idea what an inferno of sexiness she really was. And the worst part? She didn’t try to be sexy. She just…was.