Free Kiss Me, Dancer by Alicia Street, Roy Street

into a company. I started training too late. But I danced in a few MTV videos, had a couple walk-ons in a sitcom, got chosen for a hosiery commercial — just my legs.”
    “Not surprised. About your legs, I mean. Yours are great.”
    “Thanks.” She shifted nervously in the seat. “Not exactly my goal, but it paid the rent for a while.”
    They came to the two-story brick building that sat on the corner of a side street leading to the main part of town. One wall still had an old Leland’s Hardware sign embedded in it.
    “Would you mind pulling into the driveway? The back door goes directly to my apartment.”
    The tires crunched across the gravel drive. Her porch light cast a humid haze over the small parking area behind her building.
    “Thanks for getting me home,” Casey said, and got out of the car.
    Drew did as well. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
    The rain had stopped, and a choir of crickets filled the night. A breeze steeped in ions and salt air from the Long Island Sound sent a rush through Casey. That and the delectable man strolling beside her.
    Some guys were just born to keep women up at night.
    Casey reached the door, her mind racing. She didn’t want to say goodnight yet. And he didn’t seem eager to leave. Should she invite him up? Or was that asking for trouble? She stalled, digging a hand into the purse that hung over her shoulder, pretending her key was not right there under her fingers.
    “What made you decide to open a dance school?” Drew asked.
    His tone sounded curious and thoughtful. Casey guessed he wasn’t just making conversation, so she gave him a real answer. “I wanted to try earning a living doing something I loved, something I find meaningful. And I love helping kids discover the discipline and beauty of an art form. Teaching them what it means to train hard and experience the reward of mastering something difficult like a pirouette or jete en tournant. But I think the best part is seeing the thrill they get from the sheer joy of movement.”
    He studied her, his eyes intent. “Must be great to work at something you can put your heart into. Something you actually enjoy.”
    “From what I hear you took to your trucking business with relish.”
    Drew shook his head. “Never had a choice. My dad was always there pushing me. Not just in our business. In everything. On my case constantly. Since I was a kid.”
    He dropped into a crude imitation of what was obviously his father’s voice: “How many touchdowns did you score? How many homeruns did you hit? Did you win the fight? You better ace that exam.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Boy, I didn’t dare come home with anything less than an A on a report card. He wanted me to be the toughest, smartest, richest, top dog, ace of all aces, you name it.”
    “At least you know what it feels like to succeed. To be a winner.”
    “I guess. Except it makes everything a job, a test. I know I’ve got a rep for carousing and all, but the truth is I feel like everything I do is to prove something or to impress somebody. Makes life a bore.”
    His frank honesty startled her. This was the last thing she would’ve expected Drew Byrne to say. “But if you feel this way, why pull your son out my ballet class when it’s something he loves to do?”
    With a soft laugh, Drew said, “Maybe it’s because Trevor isn’t the only asshole in town.” He stared out into the night, a mystified expression on his face. “I’ve never talked about this to anyone before. Must be some kind of crazy effect you have on me.”
    “I’m flattered,” Casey said, touched that he would open up to her like that.
    Without warning, Drew reached out, pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. His mouth was burning hot, yet so sweet and soft and full. Casey responded with a craving she couldn’t deny, one hand on his muscled chest, the other reaching around his neck.
    Drew tightened his grip, pressing his steel body against hers. She let out a