***
“Um...hi.”
He was staring. Why was he staring? Could she get Rhona to make him stop staring? It was skeeving her out and when she got skeeved, people ended up hurt. Having the equivalent of a human wall gaze down at her was...disconcerting. His eyes were so blue that for a moment she wondered if he were wearing contacts.
Channing had listened to Rhona talk about Sully more times than she could count over the two years they’d been friends.
Sully’s smart, Sully’s funny, Sully’s so talented,
blah, blah, blah. But she’d never paid much attention, didn’t even really notice when Rhona flashed her pictures of him or mentioned his tattoo shop in L.A. A lot of the time she was busy doing full on ice baths to keep herself from going slightly insane due to overworked muscles. As a dancer who’d trained in almost everything from ballet to Latin, Channing spent most of her days teaching classes of all ages and styles when she wasn’t on the road with various music artists.
Her life, however, was in Seattle. No matter how far she traveled away from home, Washington was the only place she could ever truly feel comfortable living. She’d been born and raised in Tacoma by her Nana. When her parents decided the best place for her was with Tessa Harris, that’s where she’d remained. Well, aside from on top of her best friend’s brother fucking him until he had an epileptic fit and a mild coronary. But that didn’t count did it?
No, no, it
couldn’t
count. But she
wanted
it to. Jesus, the man was...he was...he was...he just
was
goddammit! And yes that made perfect sense in her twisted mind! Sullivan Byrne needed to be in a kilt with leather boots, a sword in his hands and slapped across the cover of some story romanticizing a barbarian raiding a village, taking a virgin, and defiling her; preferably with Channing playing the part of the defiled virgin. Even though she hadn’t been a virgin in quite some time...
For a second she allowed her eyes to take him in on one fell swoop. From what she could tell, he was just over six foot three with mile wide shoulders and a body that was made solid;
strong.
His face was formed from hard angles with floor sweeping lashes just a shade darker than the auburn shoulder length tresses on his head and the stubble over his granite like jaw. His nose was romanesque but his lips were a full soft pink. There was a dimple in his chin and those eyes, good Lord above those eyes, were a cerulean blue so deep that they reminded her of her first spring break trip to the beaches in Huatulco Mexico.
Being that Rhona herself was absolutely gorgeous, Channing figured that of course, Sullivan would be good looking too. Well wasn’t
that
just the understatement of the year?
Channing wasn’t oblivious to her looks, she just chose not to let them define who she was. Outer beauty lasted briefly and once it was gone, you truly got to see what you were left with. Unfortunately, her last three boyfriends didn’t have that same viewpoint. The way she looked was just about everything to them and the fact that she had men traipsing in and out of her class bothered each one. The fear that she’d suddenly hand over her body the same way she did her name, caused some ugly behavior and every relationship was extinguished quickly.
Now she understood that fear because even though the majority of her clients had been good looking and charming not one of them had
ever
been able to make her feel as though she were coming out of her skin from just a look. Sully had accomplished that in all of the five minutes that he’d been standing in front of her. If he’d come around while she was in a relationship, she would’ve slipped and fell on his dick. At least she was honest with herself about that.
Rhona and Keith were set to get married in just two short weeks and she’d told Channing that she planned to ask Sully to do her father-daughter dance with her being that their own father was no longer alive. Channing knew how close the siblings were so she wasn’t surprisedand when Rhona had asked her to be the one to teach Sully the waltz, she figured it would be easy enough. But standing in front of the man in question now, , Channing knew that any time spent in his arms was going to do her in. Big. Time.
Rhona suddenly shoved Sullivan further into Channing’s space. “Meet your new student. Get acquainted. Get him taught. Everything else is in order from the catering to the Northern Lights dome room at The Arctic Club except for my dress and his two gigantic left feet.”
“Hey!” Sully barked and a shiver moved down Channing’s spine. He had an accent! The man had an accent! Was Rhona trying to kill her!
Channing was well aware that they’d grown up in Scotland for half of their lives before their father relocated them to California but God was really trying to test her!
“What did I say about the lamenting?!” Rhona suddenly yelled in her brother face.
Channing’s shoulders jerked with the effort not to laugh.
Sully settled down, looking down at his huge boot clad feet. “That I needed to shut my goddamn mouth, come in the goddamn building, and learn the art of the goddamn waltz.” He murmured like an obedient school boy reciting the golden rule.
Her eyes watered. She wouldn’t look at Rhona. She would
not
look at Rhona. Because the moment she looked at Rhona, it was all over. Instead she listened to the way her friend sighed and slowly said, “That’s right.”
Channing closed her eyes and clicked the heels of her keds together three times. She reopened them and
nothing
was different.
Shit.
“Now,” Rhona breathed clapping her hands together. “Channing has been so kind as to offer her wonderful skills because I sobbed until she finally yelled ‘Jesus Christ! Alright already I’ll do it! Just stop the tears!’ Therefore you will be getting a two hour lesson every day up until the day of the wedding.”
Sully grimaced. “I still don’t understand why we can’t just do a simple two step.”
“Do you want me cranky Sully? I thought we had this discussion before we came inside.”
His whole being recoiled and he took a step out of reach of his sister. “No.”
She nodded. “Okay then.” Rhona turned those baby blues in Channing’s direction and from the look on her face, she already knew what Channing was thinking. Mouthing
sorry,
she pushed Sully just a little bit closer, finger waved then turned on her heels and walked out, leaving the two to the company of only each other.
Poor thing was skittish. She looked as though she’d launch herself at the ceiling and stick there if he moved anywhere near her without her permission. She’d had that same reaction over the last four days that he’d shown up in her studio. Channing’s expression ranged from embarrassment anytime he touched her to fearful the moment he made her aware of his presence in the room.
It had alarmed Sully so badly that he’d asked Rhona if Channing had a history of abuse. His sister had simply laughed in his face and said, “Channing?! The woman who spends her free time studying historical methods of torture? Oh, yeah
sure.
Some asshole was just bold enough to risk having his whole body turned into an extra from
Bill Nye the Science Guy.”
He’d felt a little silly after for even asking. Channing didn’t seem afraid of
him
per se; more so afraid of being alone with him. Sully tried not to feel too offended by that. But it was getting hard. He enjoyed being in her space, enjoyed touching her, enjoyed those very brief moments that she brushed up against him while dancing because it made his dick harder than a rock and reminded him of the reason he was male. The female body was a work of art.
Sully always enjoyed tattooing women, not because he got to ogle the parts of them that could get them arrested on the street for indecent exposure but because there was something about getting to place a flower, or wings, or intricate messages on a beautiful canvas that made his job just that much easier. As one of the best tattoo artists in California, his being sought after so much allowed him to do the one things he loved.
When his father had been alive he’d hated Sully’s love for artwork, his love for ink so he’d done his damndest to discourage the fascination saying that it was pointless scribbling that couldn’t be erased. Therefore when Sully had started as an artist for a small shop as a kid, he’d made sure that every tattoo he received and every tattoo he’d given was the best that he could.
On his left pec he had the old Scottish saying, “Fools look to tomorrow. Wise men use tonight” to keep his life choices in perspective. His father had been work oriented, no time for family, or fun. Sully didn’t doubt Ewan had loved them; he just loved his money more. On the right side, he had both Fiona and Rhona’s names with wings on either side of the italicized font. Fiona had never begrudged him his love of art.
Down his left side he had
Dumfries
and on his right side was the name of his shop;
Body of Art.
From his right shoulder down his arm there was a tribal tattoo and the same for his left. Both stopped just beneath his elbows. Each tattoo was an extension of him; each one was special. The thought of his skills made him wonder briefly if Channing had any tattoos hidden under the fitted tanks and yoga pants she was so fond of wearing. He also wondered if she’d consider allowing him to be her artist should she ever choose to get one.
The thought of a chance to see any of her uncovered and under his hands made his dick thump against the zipper of his jeans. Currently, Sully was watching her, undetected, from the doorway of her studio as she danced to soft music emitting from the sound system in the room. Every mirrored wall simply amplified her beautiful image as her body moved with an unnatural grace. Her hips swayed to the rhythm effortlessly as did the rest of her. His eyes, however, were focused on her ass. It was high, round, full, and begging for his palms.
He could almost see her bent over for him, pushing back into every caress of his hand, right before he...
“You gonna stand there all night looking seriously stalky and creepy or come in so we can get this lesson over with?”
Snapping out of his daze, Sully looked up to see Channing had not only stopped dancing but had turned off the music and was waiting for him to get it together. A light sheen of sweat on her skin made the golden undertones just that much more noticeable. Sully’s lips twitched at the impatient look on her face.
“Didn’t want to disturb you.” He walked further into the empty room. His lessons didn’t begin until the building emptied out. Channing leased her studio and was usually the last to leave every night. Just for his peace of mind, Sully had been hanging around in the parking lot to make sure she got out safely.
Channing snorted as she closed the door on the room. “Good luck with that.”
His brows winged but she shook her head, eyes closing and whispered, “Don’t ask.”
“When you make statements like that, it’s kind of hard not to.”
Her lids opened and those copper brown eyes narrowed on him. “Did we not learn what happens when you annoy me?”
Sully pouted. “We said we wouldn’t discuss that again.” Days later his thighs were still sore from that damn sitting position she’d made him hold against the wall just because he’d argued with her about leading while dancing. He’d refused to do it at first. When she pulled out her phone and started dialing Rhona he’d had a minor heart attack and immediately did what she’d demanded for ten
long
minutes. She was just as mean as his sister.
But he liked it. He liked
her.
Over the last few days he’d learned that she was thirty and had been raised by a rambunctious grandmother who encouraged her to dance the same way his own mother had encouraged him to pursue art. Channing had been an honor roll student all through highschool and when graduation came she’d gone off to Juilliard with a full scholarship and starred in many of the famous school’s dance productions. New York was where she’d gotten her first big break as a choreographer and as soon as her name got out into the industry, she was requested constantly.