The Ballerina's Stand. Angel Smits

after he nodded, she reached for the keyboard. She typed, This is Dylan. He needs a lawyer or he’s going back to jail. Can you help us?

      Whoa. That came out of left field. Jason took the keyboard back. Hello, Dylan. Nice to meet you. I don’t think I can help. I’m not that kind of lawyer.

      She read and frowned. We don’t know any other lawyers. Please?

      The look on her face, thick with pleading was his downfall.

      I can try. That’s all I can promise. Tell me what happened. Maybe if he got the info, he could point them in the right direction.

      Did he really want to get involved? When Jason looked at Lauren, the worry on her face answered him. There was no turning back.

      She didn’t take the keyboard this time, but pushed it toward the boy and crossed her arms. Waiting. Glaring. The boy glared back. Lauren uncrossed her arms and started to sign. Jason caught only a letter here and there. But he read her emotions.

      Anger. Pain. Worry.

      The boy was nearly as stubborn. He didn’t move. Until she slowly shook her head and spelled a word. Jason stared, concentrating on her fingers, catching only a few letters.

      But whatever she’d said, it got through to the boy. His face fell and he reached for the keyboard. Reluctantly he started typing.

      Jason leaned back in his chair, waiting, watching both the boy and Lauren.

      There was no self-satisfied smirk on her face, but the look in her eyes was a whole different matter. She was good. She’d played the kid—and him—well.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE BOY KEPT typing and Jason sat back and let him. Even if Dylan was spewing anger, it would give Jason a sense of the situation.

      It also gave Jason the opportunity to take a minute to study Lauren.

      Now that he’d gotten over that initial shock of not being able to communicate with her, Jason was even more impressed and intrigued by her.

      He didn’t stare openly at her—he did it out of the corner of his eye. The ballerina he’d seen on that stage wasn’t here today. And though the woman before him was equally as beautiful, she wasn’t as intimidating and awe-inspiring. More human. Approachable.

      Lauren had her hair pulled back into a high, flowing ponytail. The style accentuated her smooth features and the long curve of her neck. She was sitting back as well, waiting and watching the boy.

      Finally, Dylan leaned back, pushing the monitor just enough to turn it toward Lauren, not Jason—sending quite the attitudinal message.

      When Lauren went to turn the monitor toward Jason, he shook his head and stood, walking around the desk to stand behind her so they could read it together.

      The boy had typed more than Jason had expected. Several paragraphs filled the screen. After moving the mouse over to where she could reach it and indicating she should take control, Jason started to read.

      There was no opening. All the sentences were direct. Short. He’d followed someone named Tina. Jason pointed at the name and frowned. He wished he knew the sign to ask a question.

      “Who?” he asked in reflex.

      Lauren, who had been looking at him, moved her lips into a very pretty near pucker, a silent imitation of the actual word. She drew the shape of a question mark in the air with a long slender finger.

      “My sister,” Dylan said in very halted speech. His words surprised Jason. He’d assumed he didn’t speak either, like Lauren. He wondered why he hadn’t spoken earlier. Jason noticed Dylan’s hands moved in unison with his words, as if the two were tied together.

      Fascinated, Jason tore his gaze back to the screen. Lauren turned as well. The autocorrect had made several words not make sense. Jason leaned closer, hoping to decipher them without having to ask.

      Something sweet and soft wafted around him. The scent of Lauren’s shampoo or perfume. He liked it. Liked it a lot. He had to shake his head in order to clear it and concentrate on the information.

      Tina had snuck out of the house, despite their foster parents’ warnings that they’d consider moving her if she did that again. Dylan had followed her, hoping to get her back home before they found out.

      Unfortunately, she didn’t want to go back, and was hoping to get kicked out. Dylan wasn’t sure they’d end up together if that happened. She’d said she didn’t care and that had made him angry. He’d grabbed her and tried to drag her home.

      Unfortunately, a tall male dragging a kicking and screaming young girl down the street was a bit obvious. The cops had hauled them both in, not sure what was happening.

      Jason pointed at Tina’s name again. “How old is Tina?” he asked Lauren, who watched his lips closely, as he spoke. She nodded, but didn’t immediately look away. And when she did, her gaze met his, holding for an instant. An instant that shot heat through him. He swallowed and tried to focus on the boy.

      “Two years younger than me. Thirteen,” Dylan answered in sign and speech.

      Lauren’s hands moved quickly, making the boy laugh. “Lauren says, going on thirty.”

      “Ah.” Jason got the gist. A young, probably just blossoming, pretty girl if she had the same smooth features as her brother, wanting to taste freedom. Wanting out of a foster home.

      Jason had read the whole report and still had several questions. He reached for the keyboard, and typed. “Where are your parents?” He hated asking, but it was part of the whole equation.

      “Mom’s dead.” The boy’s eyes shone for an instant, but he quickly recovered as if he’d learned to shut it off fast. “Dad’s got another five years. Armed robbery.”

      Lovely. Jason wondered which had happened first. Another whiff of perfume made him glance over at Lauren. What she was thinking? He was usually good at reading people, but she was tough. Partially because there was a bit of playacting in her signing, an emphasis for the words’ sake. Right now, she was frowning. And since her hands weren’t moving, he was pretty sure that was her true displeasure.

      “How do you know Lauren?” he typed.

      “She’s my teacher.”

      “Teacher?” After pulling back, he looked back and forth from Dylan to Lauren. “Ballet?”

      Dylan nodded, and his face, which was much easier to read, glowed with defensiveness. Jason understood that. The kid had probably had to defend himself many times, to many people.

      “Is he any good?” He pointed at Lauren after the words appeared on the screen. “Like you?”

      She fought the smile, but not before he saw it. She nodded and signed something. Dylan grinned. “She says I’m better.”

      Whether that was true or not, Jason couldn’t miss the fondness in her eyes and the pride she let shine on the boy.

      Lauren signed as Dylan nodded. “She wants to know if you’re a patron of ballet. Have you seen her perform?”

      “Once.” Jason’s gaze met hers and the wonder of that night returned. Time stretched out.

      Needing a bit of distance from Lauren and the feeling she stirred, Jason paced around his desk and went to the windows to stare out at the hustle and bustle of the city far below. What the hell must it be like to live in foster care in LA?

      He’d lost his father when he was young, but he’d had his mother, and older siblings who were definitely stand-in parents.

      He couldn’t imagine being practically alone in the world as a kid. In the reflection in the window, he saw Lauren and Dylan signing back and forth. For a second he felt excluded, which made him wince. He wondered