More Than a Rancher. Claire McEwen

your ballroom. My brother Paul wants to learn to dance and Jenna has been an inspiration for him.”

      That was laying the charm on a bit thick. What was he up to?

      “We’re happy to have you here, Paul. Welcome. And, Sandro, you’re not signing up for any classes yourself?”

      “Well, if anyone could talk me into it, Jenna could.” Sandro’s smile was so sweet that Marlene blushed like a schoolgirl. He wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat, but his faded jeans ended in black cowboy boots and his tight T-shirt advertised the Reno Rodeo. Marlene’s eyes were wide, taking in his tall frame. Who knew the glamorous older dancer had a thing for cowboys?

      “We saw her dance the other weekend.” Sandro sent a quick wink Jenna’s way. “I can’t say I’ve ever had much interest in ballroom dance before, but Jenna was something else. She’s a credit to your ballroom.”

      Now he was getting carried away. Marlene might enjoy flattery but she also didn’t suffer fools, and Sandro was on his way to being one. Jenna sailed forward and took Paul by one arm, Sandro by the other. “I’m just going to give my new student a tour of the ballroom before class,” she told Marlene. “Excuse me.”

      She steered her visitors through the lobby and into the main ballroom. The building had been an old hotel at one point in its past, and the ballroom was a testament to faded glory. Jenna loved the old crystal chandeliers that had shone on generations of dancers. Plaster roses adorned soaring columns around the arched edges, and one wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the room with natural light.

      “Great place,” Sandro said, looking down at her with that humorous smile that shook her confidence and made her let go of his arm abruptly.

      “It’s awesome!” Paul added. “Can I go look around?”

      “Of course,” Jenna told him, and watched him walk across the room to the main teaching area, where the wall was lined with mirrors.

      Jenna and Sandro followed, walking more slowly. Jenna looked up at Sandro, unable to resist asking the question foremost in her mind.

      “What were you doing back there with Marlene? Your flattery was very nice but not exactly sincere.”

      “How do you know it wasn’t sincere? Your dance in the kitchen did make quite an impression.”

      “An impression that really upset you!”

      “Well, I’ve had some time to think, as you suggested. I’m sorry I was so rude that night.”

      “That still doesn’t explain...” Jenna motioned vaguely toward Marlene, who had gone back to staring at the schedule, probably trying to figure out if there were any other of Jenna’s classes she could give to Nicole.

      “We’d been standing by the door for a while.” Sandro turned to face her, serious now. “I guess you didn’t hear us come in, but I heard most of what she was saying. I figured she needed a reminder of what you’re worth.”

      He could be nice. She’d had no idea. Was this really the same Sandro she’d met in Benson? She had a sudden image of Sandro crossing the Bay Bridge this morning in some old pickup truck, gazing at the fantastic view of the San Francisco skyline as he approached. Could the relaxed attitude that her home city was famous for work its magic so quickly? And now she was the one being rude. “Thank you,” she blurted out. “It’s nice that you tried to help.”

      “Seems like I owed you one.”

      She made the mistake of looking at his eyes. Dark chocolate, with the bitter and sweet both evident. She couldn’t look away—there was too much regret and warmth holding her there.

      Sandro set her free by glancing at his watch, raising one dark brow when he caught sight of the time. “Paul, let’s get you set up in your tutu. I have to get to the cooking school.”

      Reality came back into focus. No magic here. She had to stop that kind of wishful thinking. Sandro was merely here to drop his brother off, nothing more.

      “Sure,” Jenna agreed, taking a step back from him and forcing her eyes away from the older brother to the younger. “Don’t worry, Paul, we don’t do tutus here.”

      Paul hadn’t even heard his brother’s teasing. He was standing in the middle of the dance floor, turning slowly as he took in the grand ballroom. The smile on his face was pure wonder and excitement.

      She looked back at Sandro, making sure to avoid his eyes. She looked at the line of his clean-shaven jaw instead. A firm jaw, defined and strong, and she tried to resist when her imagination took hold, conjuring the feel of it under her fingertips. “I can get Paul ready for the class. And I’m sure Marlene will be happy to help with your bill. Actually...” She looked over to where Marlene had abandoned the schedule in favor of leaning on the front desk and peering through the wide ballroom doors to get another look at Sandro. “If you smile at her like you did before, I’m pretty sure she’ll give you guys a full scholarship.”

      Sandro glanced toward the desk and Marlene abruptly began studying the schedule again. He grinned, all arrogance, and Jenna could see why he had such legendary success with women.

      “Hey, sometimes the cowboy thing opens doors. If it gives me a discount for this insane notion of Paul’s, I won’t complain.”

      He turned that same smile on Jenna and she felt its power as her skin warmed. She backed away a few steps to avoid the heat. “I’ll just get Paul started, then. Good luck with your cooking classes. We’ll be done here at five.”

      “Jenna, wait.” His voice was soft and he closed the distance between them. He glanced at Paul, suddenly the worried older brother. “Take good care of Paul, okay? This is a totally foreign world for him.”

      “I will,” she promised, touched by his concern. “But I don’t think you need to worry. He looks pretty happy so far.”

      “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

      “Sandro.” Jenna put her hand on his and instantly regretted it. The strength of him scrambled her thoughts. She pulled her hand back and continued. “It’s going to be okay. You did the right thing for him.”

      “I doubt it.” A shadow of emotion crossed his face. “I’m not known for my good judgment, Jenna.” He seemed to catch himself and pushed whatever dark feeling haunted him aside, because the humor came back. His defense, she suddenly realized. “But it’s not like the kid gave me a lot of choice. He hasn’t shut up about taking your classes since you busted some moves in Jack’s kitchen. Thanks for that, by the way.”

      “You’re welcome,” Jenna said, ignoring the teasing sarcasm. She nodded to where her other students were starting to file in, dropping their duffel bags by the row of chairs along the wall, some already seated, changing their shoes. “And I’ve got to go bust a few more now.”

      “And I’ve got to go tame Marge Simpson at the desk.”

      “Be nice!” But she couldn’t help laughing. “I happen to love her hair! And if you say something nice to her about it, I’m sure you’ll make her day.”

      “Your faith in me is touching.”

      The conversation was obviously over, but Jenna was having a hard time looking away. Sandro’s smile gave warmth to the masculine lines of his face. His eyes lingered on her, too.

      Neither of them said anything. Then Sandro seemed to re-collect himself, because he glanced around, breaking whatever strange spell had held them so still. “Thanks again for helping Paul.” He turned to go. “See you later, Jenna.”