Jilted

Amy walked around the studio, double checking to make sure there was nothing on the floor. She was mildly OCD about the condition of the floors. They’d been cleaned and freshly waxed two nights ago, and the studio had been closed to lessons all weekend, but the first class of the day was a group of fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds. They were a handful in their own right, but once the music got pumping, they were worse. Not to mention, at that age, the hormones were rampant. She had several students who were here because they were serious about becoming professional ballroom dancers. Others, though, she was convinced they were just here to cop a feel with a member of the opposite sex. She remembered what it was like at that age. And she vividly remembered what it was like to dance with a boy she had a crush on—Brett Hudson. His name still gave her goose bumps.

Amy started dance classes when she was five. She met Brett when she was ten. They were paired up together during one lesson and as they say, the rest was history. They became dance partners, best friends, and now they were business partners. Four years ago, they opened their own dance studio and have been teaching together ever since.

Satisfied that the floor was clean and safe, she moved on to make sure all the music CDs were near the stereo. Nothing disrupted the flow of a class more than having to stop and search for the correct music. That was one thing their studio was known for—the music. They combined the most traditional dance moves with the hippest, most popular songs. The kids loved it.

“I got it!” Brett rushed through the doors, his blue eyes sparkling. “I got it, Amy!”

“Dancing with the Stars?” Amy exclaimed. “My God, Brett, that’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you.” She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him.

Brett picked her up, spun her around, and laughed. “I can’t believe it either,” he said, setting her back on her feet.

Amy couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “Don’t forget your friends when you become famous,” she teased.

“Never.” He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked it toward the corner. A habit of his that really annoyed her. “We have to go out and celebrate tonight.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. Since Dancing with the Stars had become so popular, Brett had joked about trying to become a professional dancer on the show. Amy had always encouraged him to do it, but it wasn’t until recently that he finally took her encouragement to heart. And now it had paid off. Big time. She was thrilled for him.

“We’ll go to Gregorio’s for dinner, and then to that new club on the boulevard for drinks and dancing.” He snapped his fingers and wiggled his hips.

Amy laughed. “You mean Nefarious?”

“Yeah, that’s the place. We’ll go there and dance the night away.”

Like they didn’t dance enough as it was. She smiled and shook her head. It was a rare occasion to see Brett in such a good mood. He’d had a string of bad relationships lately and it had taken a real toll on him emotionally. Getting on this show was exactly what he needed.

“I’ll pick you up at six?”

“I’ll be ready.” She refocused her attention on the task at hand—getting the music ready for their upcoming class. “Oh, and Brett, tonight’s my treat. No arguments.”

He grinned big enough to showcase his dimple. Amy had more than one fantasy about kissing that very dimple. She looked away, afraid her true thoughts would be displayed on her face for him to see. Lying to him was something she never could successfully do.

In the entire time they’d known each other, not once had they ever shown any sort of sexual attraction to each other. No flirty looks or words; no drunken admissions of love; no regrettable caresses or kisses. They were just best friends and business partners. Plain and simple. Of course, like any best friends they talked about everything, including relationships and sex. They just never talked about doing it together, even though she’d thought about it—a lot.

Why wouldn’t she? He was tall, lean, and muscular with abs to die for and arms that always kept her entranced. They were strong yet graceful. His legs were the same way and she’d imagined more than once what it would feel like to have his svelte body pressed firmly against hers. Brett had a headful of thick, black hair, and piercing blue eyes. They reminded her of Bradley Cooper’s eyes.

Amy blew out a breath and fanned her face with her hand. She had to stop thinking about him like that. Nothing would ever come of it, and it would only frustrate her.

“It is hot in here, isn’t it?” Brett asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Is the air on?”

“Uh,” she cleared her throat, “yeah, I think so. I’ll go double check.” Amy quickly left the room, happy to be away from Brett for a few moments. What had gotten into her today? She hadn’t thought of him like that in years. Why now? Why today? She’d better get her act together before tonight because it would be a very long night if she spent it fantasizing about the one man she could never have.

* * *

“Is it just me or was that class more difficult than usual?” Brett blew out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what got into them today, but damn.” He laughed.

“It’s spring. The kids are anxious for the nice weather. I guess it’s to be expected.” Amy sat in one of the chairs that were set out for the parents and removed the towel that she’d draped around her neck. Next, she removed her heels. She rubbed at the bottom of her foot. She extended her legs in front of her and wiggled her toes. That’s when she noticed Brett staring at her, an odd look on his face. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Why do you keep wearing those shoes if they hurt your feet?”

“Because they’re pretty.” She smiled, and he laughed. “Once I break them in, they’ll stop hurting.”

“I’ll never understand you women and your obsession with shoes.”

“And I’ll never understand you men and your obsession with throwing your stuff on the floor.” She glanced toward the corner where he’d kicked his bag earlier.

He shrugged in typical Brett fashion—slow, lazy, and full of confidence. “At least it’s out of the way.”

Amy picked up her towel and threw it at him; then laughed. “Would it really be so much trouble to just put it in the office?”

“I’ve got important stuff in that bag.” He walked over and picked it up, putting the strap over his shoulder.

“What could you possibly have in there that you can’t let it out of your sight for a single, fifty-minute lesson?”

“A man’s duffle bag is like a woman’s purse—sacred and confusing.”

She shook her head and smiled. “You are such a dork.”

“Takes one to know one,” he retorted with a smile.

Yeah, they were grown adults who still teased each other like kids. It was juvenile, but it was their thing, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Want to grab some lunch?” Brett asked.

“Yeah, it’ll have to be quick though. I’m meeting with the realtor today.” Amy picked up her heels and carried them into the back office. She slipped on her sandals and grabbed her purse.

“I forgot about that. Want me to go with you?” He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking perfectly at ease, perfectly sexy. Brett always wore a plain black T-shirt when teaching and it always stretched just right across his chest, showing the definition of his upper body.

Her gaze lingered longer than necessary on his muscular arms. What the heck was wrong with her today? Jeez. Forcing herself to look away, she said, “Yeah, sure if you want. All I’m doing is meeting with her to sign a contract and to give her an idea of the kind of space we’re looking for.” Amy glanced around the office one final time to make sure she had everything; then, she turned off the lights and followed Brett back into the studio.

“I think you forget sometimes that my name is on the sign out front, too.” He gently nudged her shoulder and smiled. “We agreed that if we were going to open a second studio, we’d do it together. I want to help.”

Amy could never forget that she and Brett were equal business partners, but she was the type of person who just naturally tried to do everything on her own. They needed another location, so she was doing what needed to be done to find it. “Okay, if you want to spend this beautiful day going over a real estate contract who am I to stop you?”

He laughed one of his deep, throaty laughs that always made her stomach drop to her feet and her heart flutter. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Honestly, Amy, how long is this going to take? We’ll be done and outside enjoying the sunshine in no time.”

“You’re a poet and didn’t even know it.” She playfully stuck her tongue out at him as they made their way to the parking lot.

“Who’s the dork now?”

“I have learned from the best,” she said, bowing at him as if he were royalty.

“Shut up and get in the car.” He pointed his key chain at his car and pushed the unlock button.

Teaching dance lessons wasn’t the highest paying profession, but no one would know that based on Brett’s lifestyle. He drove a metallic blue Mercedes. It was a hot car, but very expensive. And his apartment was to die for. The view from his living room was breathtaking. If it wasn’t for his trust fund, he wouldn’t live like he did. But despite his money, he never acted like he was better than anyone else.

Amy, on the other hand, lived less extravagantly. Not because she couldn’t afford to live like Brett—she could thanks to a large inheritance from her grandmother, but she preferred the simpler things in life. She owned her own house, a small, two-bedroom, one-story Ranch outside of the city with a generous sized backyard. Someday, when she had children of her own, it would be the perfect place to raise them. And she drove a Pontiac Vibe—not the most glamorous car ever made, but it served her purposes.

She opened the passenger’s door and slid into the seat, loving how the cool leather felt against her bare legs. “So, where are you taking me to lunch?” Amy rested her elbow on the door and glanced at him.

“I don’t recall offering to buy you lunch.” Brett put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

“It’s the least you can do considering I’m taking you out tonight.” She kept her gaze on Brett, watching the way he concentrated on the road, the way the strong line of his jaw softened when he smiled, and then winked at her. Amy wondered what it would feel like to nibble on his jaw. Good Lord, she had to get a grip. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with her today?

“Well, when you put it like that.” He rolled his eyes. “Where do you want to go?”

“The realtor’s office is over on Grant so why don’t we go to that new café on the corner of Thirty-one and Main?”

“Sounds good.” Brett turned right onto the Boulevard and headed toward the other end of town.

Amy settled into her seat and relaxed. Her thoughts wandered to Brett’s announcement from earlier. He was going to be on Dancing with the Stars. She truly was happy for him, but she knew that the show would keep him busy. They wouldn’t have much time to just hang out and that saddened her. She would miss him, this.

“Amy? Are you ready?” Brett shouted as he walked into her house without knocking. That wasn’t unusual for him. They both did it to the other. If, or when, they ever settled down, that kind of behavior would have to stop. Until then, he enjoyed the easy, relaxed nature of their friendship.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Amy walked out of her room dressed in a knee length purple dress that was cut low in the front. The plunging neckline drew his gaze to her breasts. He’d seen her in a fair share of skimpy dance costumes that showed off her cleavage and her curves, but none of them had ever fazed him like seeing her in this dress did. Maybe it was because she wasn’t in costume—she was just Amy—a sexy, gorgeous version of Amy that had him momentarily rethinking the whole platonic friendship thing. It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had wandered down this forbidden path, but it was the first time it had been this strong.

“What?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her stomach and hips. “Do I look bad? Is this dress too much? Should I go change?”

“No,” he blurted out a little too quickly. “No, you look great.”

“Then why are you staring at me like that?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

Brett shook the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. Amy was his friend, his best friend, and sure, she was attractive as hell, but he was pretty sure she would laugh in his face if he ever told her how he really felt. “I feel underdressed now,” he said, waving his hands down the length of his body.

He’d dressed in a pair of navy blue slacks, a black silk, button up shirt, and a cerulean blue tie. Gregorio’s was one of the fanciest Italian restaurants in the city and there was a certain level of dress expected. He had no idea what kind of dress was normal or expected at the club. There were no doubts that Amy would fit right in, but he was starting to question his own wardrobe choice.

“You look fine, Brett. If anything, I’m overdressed.”

He smiled as an inappropriate comeback about helping her become undressed popped into his mind. Brett shook the thoughts away. “Okay, so I’m underdressed, you’re overdressed, and we’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”

Amy laughed. She grabbed a shawl from the foyer closet, draped it around her shoulders, and said, “Let’s get going then. I’m starving.”

“Me too.” Brett held out his arm, which Amy took, looping hers through his. He was looking forward to spending the evening with her. Once outside, Brett opened the car door for her and helped her into the seat. As he made his way to the driver’s side he blew out a breath and tried to calm himself. His hands were shaking—friggin’ shaking! He flexed his fingers several times before grabbing the door handle and getting in the car. The scent of Amy’s perfume assaulted his senses. Get a grip, Hudson!

They were silent for a long while, which was unusual for them. It wasn’t awkward, just a little weird. He kept glancing at her, hoping she didn’t notice how strange he was acting. But damn…had Amy always been so hot? His gaze dropped to her legs, and he devoured them with his eyes. Most men were either ass men or breast men. Brett was a leg man. And Amy had a great pair of legs. Long, slender, muscular. When he watched her dance, which he did a lot more than he cared to admit, he always focused on her legs. The way she moved—it was always so graceful, elegant…sexy.

“Brett?”

The sound of her voice snapped him from his thoughts. “What?”

She laughed. “You’re a million miles away. What’s up?”

He looked over at her and smiled. “Nothing, guess I’m just thinking about the show and everything I have to do.”

“No.” She turned in her seat and pointed at him. “No worrying about the show or the studio or anything else. We’re here to have fun tonight. Got it?”

Brett laughed. “Yes, ma’am. Fun. Got it.” He pulled up in front of the restaurant and put the car in park. Getting out, he handed his keys to the valet; then walked around to Amy’s side and opened her door. He took her hand and helped her out of the car.

“Thank you,” she said as he escorted her inside.

Brett couldn’t help but feel like he was on a date with Amy and that was just too weird. He had to shake this off or the night would be a bust. They were seated at a table in the back of the restaurant. Their waiter poured them a complimentary glass of white wine and left them to look at the menu.

“God, I’m so hungry I could eat a hippo on steroids,” Amy said.

He laughed at her and all of the awkward tension he felt disappeared. Just like that, Amy was simply Amy again, his best friend. “Go crazy, you’re paying.” He winked at her over the menu, knowing full well that there was no way in hell he was letting her foot the bill for tonight.

Their waiter returned several moments later. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes.” Amy smiled. “I’ll have the lobster Alfredo with a salad, light on the dressing please.” She closed the menu and set it on the table. “Oh, and we’d like a bottle of Dom Perignon, too, please.”

“And for you, sir?”

“I think I’m going to go with the steak Florentine,” Brett said.

“Salad for you as well?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, please. No onion, extra dressing.” The waiter nodded; then left. Brett raised a brow at Amy. “Big spender tonight I see.” Dom Perignon was Amy’s favorite champagne. It was also very pricey.

“It’s not every day your best friend lands a job on the most popular television show. If this isn’t a reason to spend frivolously; then what is?”

Brett shrugged and smiled. “You don’t always need a reason to splurge, you know.”

“No, but when you do, it makes it that much more fun.”

Her big hazel eyes twinkled, and he was suddenly very warm. He grabbed his glass of ice water and took a long drink. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Brett stood at the crowded bar and waited, impatiently, for the bartender to acknowledge him. Amy was on the dance floor with a couple of women she’d met at the club tonight. She had a real knack for making friends wherever she went. It paid off tonight because he’d spent more time waiting in line at the bar than he had dancing with her.

He looked around the club and let his gaze settle on Amy. Damn that woman knew how to move. He smiled as he watched her, but it quickly faded when he saw the group of men to her right. They were watching her, smiling, nodding, and acting like they were trying to get their long-haired friend to go talk to her. Sure enough, moments later, the hippie looking friend approached Amy.

Oh hell no! Brett and Amy had one rule that they never broke: no picking up dates while they were out together. He’d be damned if he let some guy try to pick her up tonight. Leaving his place at the bar, Brett made his way toward Amy, reaching her the same time the other guy did. Brett pulled Amy to him and started dancing with her. He gave the guy a dirty look that said, “Back off, she’s taken.”

Amy leaned forward and put her mouth near his ear. “I thought you were getting drinks.”

“Line was too long.” He spun her around, and then pulled her to him again. Dancing with her like this, for fun, was so much better than dancing a choreographed routine.

“Well, I need some water.” Amy fanned her face with her hand and motioned for him to follow her. He did and they stood at the bar. Only this time, it didn’t take so long to get a drink. They made their way toward an empty table in the corner.

“Phew.” Amy plopped down in the seat and laughed. “Man, it’s hot in here.” She reached into her glass of water and grabbed a piece of ice, which she proceeded to rub around her neck and down her chest.

Brett’s throat went dry watching her, watching the way she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, the way her lips were slightly parted as if suspended on a sigh of satisfaction. It stirred feelings in him that he shouldn’t be feeling for his best friend.

He motioned for the waitress walking around with a tray of shots and bought four of them. Maybe if he consumed more alcohol he wouldn’t notice Amy so much, or at least if he did, he could pass it off on being drunk and not have to worry about the repercussions of ogling his best friend.

“Would you look at them?” Amy nodded to her right.

Brett followed the direction of her gaze to see a couple on the dance floor making out. The man had his hand on the woman’s ass, her skirt bunched beneath his fingers. Her leg was bent at his waist, making it clear that she wasn’t wearing any panties. He downed one of his shots. “More power to ‘em,” Brett finally said, drinking a second shot. It had been months since his last breakup and just as long since he’d had sex.

“Why can’t we find significant others who are that hot for us?” Amy swirled her drink, and then took a sip. “I mean, really, why are guys so intimidated by a strong, independent woman? Just because I have my life together and I know what I want doesn’t mean I don’t want a man to love me and take care of me.”

Brett nodded. He’d heard this same thing from her every single time she broke up with a guy. And he knew how she felt. Every woman he’d ever been serious about always left him for one reason or another. Usually, it was because of Amy. Women were threatened by his close friendship with her. But he always refused to give her up despite repeated requests from his girlfriends. No way in hell. Amy had always been there, and she always would be.

Plus, other than a sister and a brother she didn’t speak to, Amy didn’t have any family. He was her family, and there was no way he could ever turn his back on her. Amy meant too much to him to just dump her because some woman he was dating wanted him too. Nope. Brett was resolved to the fact that either he would be single for the rest of his life, or he’d just have to wait a really long time to find that special woman who would accept his friendship with Amy.

“It’s because you go for the wrong type of guy,” Brett said matter-of-factly, pouring a third shot down his throat. “Those muscle-bound jocks are all bark and no bite. They look good on the outside, but they’re a mess on the inside.”

Amy threw a piece of ice at him and laughed. “And the goody two shoes, school teacher types you date are much better?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “Which is why we’re both still single.”

She sighed. “Yeah, so much for my dream of having kids.”

“You’re young. I’m sure you’ll find someone.” He drank his last shot and chased it with his beer.

“I’m thirty, Brett. By the time I find a man, date him, and get married, I’ll be an old hag with no viable eggs.”

The thought of Amy finding a man to marry and have kids with didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t stomach the thought of losing her. “I’ll tell you what.” He leaned across the table and pointed at her. “Three years from now, if neither of us are married, I’ll marry you and give you as many babies as you want.” Brett’s words were slurred. Yup. He was definitely drunk. He wouldn’t have made that proposition otherwise.

“Yeah right.” Amy rolled her eyes. “You and me? That would be like fucking my brother. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He flinched at her words. “You think of me as your brother?” That bothered him a lot more than it should, especially considering he’d never once thought of her as a sister.

She shrugged. “We’re best friends. How else would I think of you?” Amy glanced away, and then set her gaze on him again. “Why? How do you think of me?”

Oh shit! He hadn’t expected the conversation to backfire on him like that. What was he supposed to tell her? That he thought of her as a best friend that he wanted to fuck? No, he definitely couldn’t tell her that. “As a friend, I guess. I don’t know. It’s not like I sit around and think about how I should think of you. You’re Amy.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Maybe a little.” He grinned. “So, do we have a deal or what?”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re probably not going to remember this tomorrow anyway.”

“Yes I will,” he insisted. “It’s not every day I throw out marriage proposals, y’know.”

“Okay then, you’ve got a deal.” She smiled.

“You gotta shake on it.” Brett extended his hand to her. She took it and gave it a firm shake. He smiled. Amy would always be around.