Free Dance Like Nobody's Watching by Luxie Ryder Page A

attraction. More importantly,
he never patronized her or pretended not to notice she wore a leg brace, and it
made her admire him all the more.
    Unlike most people she met, he came right out and asked her
about it during their one and only conversation so far. She’d been grateful for
the rare opportunity to set the tone for the discussion for once, rather than
trying to make others feel comfortable talking about it. Sherrie told him how
she’d been out on the Harley, on her way to visit her best friend and simply ‘ran
out of road’ in
Topanga
Canyon
. She spared him
the details of her injuries and just how serious the accident had been. The pillion
crushed the lower half of her leg and she’d almost died from blood loss by the
time she was found. Ty seemed to sense what she wasn’t saying but he didn’t
push her on it. He just smiled and said she was lucky to be alive and then
teased her by asking what the Harley had ever done to deserve her.  
    Ty’s intervention seemed to mellow Baz a little. “Yeah, well,
just sort it out,” the director said, far less willing to curse out one of the
stars of the show than a lowly assistant.
    Sherrie rushed to her little booth, hands shaking nervously
as she got ready to make the repairs. If only it had been anyone but Ty, she
wouldn’t have been so careless in the first place. The attraction she felt for
him never failed to disrupt her concentration. Now, she was faced with the task
of being near to his well-stuffed package again. Having trouble remembering how
to function while doing the repair earlier had been the cause of this dilemma.
    The dancers usually kept their costumes on as the
seamstresses worked; saving both time and embarrassment by not exposing what
was usually very minimal underwear. A man in skin-tight Lycra couldn’t wear
much more than an athletic support underneath without it showing through.
    “Are you ready for me?” Ty asked, making her jump as he
appeared in the doorway.
    You have no idea how
ready!   “Yes, come on in,” she replied as calmly as
her voice allowed.
    Sherrie took a shaky breath and sank to her knees in front of
him, ready to do the fast repair needed to get him back on set before the
director blew a gasket. Her gaze travelled upwards even as she willed it not to,
and her mouth went dry as she met the bulge at his groin. She coughed to cover
her almost audible groan before daring to look up into his face. If he noticed
her perusal, he didn’t let on.
    Ty Webster was six feet of lithe sinewy muscle, with thighs
that could crack walnuts, made hard from years of training. The outfit he wore
exposed his broad, hairless chest, typical of what male dancers often wore for
the Latin routines—a skin tight shirt, revealing strong, bulging biceps, and
slashed right down to the waist. The trousers were even tighter than the damn
shirt. At thirty five years old, he had the body of a man half his age thanks
to years of competing at the top of his field. He’d been with Strictly Dancing since the show first
aired and watching him every Sunday night had been one of Sherrie’s guilty
pleasures.
    Ty’s moss green eyes, dark blonde hair and killer smile
knocked her off her feet even through the TV screen, but in the flesh, he was the
epitome of lethal sensuality. Since then, she’d watched him from the shadows,
her lust for him growing with each routine. She would’ve rather died in the
motorbike accident that mangled her leg than ever let her injuries hold her
back, for she had no qualms about pursuing men she wanted. But for some strange
reason Ty was different. It was like he was on a pedestal she couldn’t reach.
    His eyes narrowed to barely more than slits when he finally
looked down at her face, mere inches from his groin. An erotic image flashed
into her mind briefly and she wondered how he would react if she allowed her
mouth to follow her thoughts. Without thought of the consequences, her teeth
gently skimmed over the bulge