Nora Roberts - Considering Kate

Kate Stanislaski Kimball had turned her back on glamour and fame, and shed come home to begin a new life. The only thing more perfect than the beautifuldilapidatedbuilding shed bought for her new dance school was Brody OConnell, the frustrating and surprisingly fascinating contractor shed hired for the renovation.

But Brody was determined to resist Kates effortless allure. She was Natasha Stanislaskis pampered, perfect daughter, after all. Still, every fiber of his being longed to make her his.

I t was going to be perfect. She was going to see to it. Every step, every stage, every detail would be done precisely as she wanted, as she envisioned, until her dream became her reality.

Settling for less than what was exactly right was a waste of time, after all.

And Kate Kimball was not a woman to waste anything.

At twenty-five, she had seen and experienced more than a great many people did in a lifetime. When other young girls had been giggling over boys or worrying about fashion, shed been traveling to Paris or Bonne, wearing glamorous costumes and doing extraordinary things.

She had danced for queens, and dined with princes.

She had sipped champagne at the White House, and wept with triumph and fatigue at the Bolshoi.

She would always be grateful to her parents, to the big, sprawling family whod given her the opportunities to do so. Everything she had she owed to them.

Now it was time to start earning it herself.

Dance had been her dream for as long as she could remember. Her obsession, her brother Brandon would have said. And not, Kate acknowledged, inaccurately. There was nothing wrong with an obsessionas long as it was the right obsession and you worked for it.

God knew shed worked for the dance.

Twenty years of practice, of study, of joy and pain. Of sweat and toe shoes. Of sacrifices, she thought. Hers, and her parents. She understood how difficult it had been for them to let her, the baby of the family, go to New York to study when shed been only seventeen. But theyd never offered her anything but support and encouragement.

Of course, theyd known that though she was leaving the pretty little town in West Virginia for the big city, shed be surroundedwatched overby family. Just as she knew they had loved and trustedbelieved in her enoughto let her go in any case.

Shed practiced and worked, and had danced, as much for them as for herself. And when shed joined the Company and had appeared on stage the first time, theyd been there. When shed earned a spot as principal dancer, theyd been there.

Shed danced professionally for six years, had known the spotlight, and the thrill of feeling the music inside her body. Shed traveled all over the world, had become Giselle, Aurora, Juliet, dozens of characters both tragic and triumphant. She had prized every moment of it.

No one was more surprised than Kate herself when shed decided to step out of that spotlight and walk off that stage. There was only one way to explain it.

Shed wanted to come home.

She wanted a life, a real one. As much as she loved the dance, shed begun to realize it had nearly absorbed and devoured every other aspect of her. Classes, rehearsals, performances, travel, media. The dancers career was far more than slipping on toe shoes and gliding into the spotlightor it certainly had been for Kate.

So she wanted a life, and she wanted home. And, shed discovered, she wanted to give something back for all the joy shed reaped. She could accomplish all of that with her school.

They would come, she told herself. They would come because her name was Kimball, and that meant something solid in the area. They would come because her name was Kate Kimball, and that meant something in the world of dance.

Before long, she promised herself, they would come because the school itself meant something.

Time for a new dream, she reminded herself as she turned around the huge, echoing room. The Kimball School of Dance was her new obsession. She intended it to be just as fulfilling, just as intricate, and just as perfect as her old one.

And it would, no doubt, entail as much work, effort, skill and determination to bring to life.

With her hands fisted on her hips, she studied the grime-gray walls that had once been white. Theyd be white again. A clean surface for displaying framed posters of the greats. Nuryev, Fontayne, Baryshnikov, Davidov, Bannion.

And the two long side walls would be mirrored behind their barres. This professional vanity was as necessary as breathing. A dancer must see each tiny movement, each arch, each flex, even as the body felt it, to perfect the positioning.

It was really more window than mirror, Kate thought. Where the dancer looked through the glass to see the dance.

The old ceiling would be repaired or replacedwhatever was necessary. The furnaceshe rubbed her chilly arms. Definitely replaced. The floors sanded and sealed until they were a smooth and perfect surface. Then there was the lighting, the plumbing, probably some electrical business to see to.

Well, her grandfather had been a carpenter before hed retiredor semiretired, she thought with affection. She wasnt totally ignorant of what went on in a rehab situation. And shed study more, ask questions, until she understood the process and could direct the contractor she hired appropriately.

Imagining what would be, she closed her eyes, dipped into a deep pli. Her body, long and wand-slim, simply flowed into the movement until her crotch rested on her heels, rose up again, lowered again.

Shed bundled her hair up, impatient to get out and take another look at what would soon be hers. With her movements, pins loosened and a few locks of glossy black curls spilled out. Freed, they would fall to her waista wildly romantic look that suited her image on stage.

Smiling, a bit dreamy, her face took on a quiet glow. She had her mothers dusky skin and high, slashing cheekbones, her fathers smoky eyes and stubborn chin.

It made an arresting combination, again a romantic one. The gypsy, the mermaid, the faerie queen. There had been men whod looked at her, taken in the delicacy of her form, and had assumed a romanticism and fragilityand never anticipated the steel.

It was, always, a mistake.

One of these days youre going to get stuck like that, then youll have to hop around like a frog.

Kate sprang up, eyes popping open. Brandon! With a full-throated war whoop, she leaped across the room and into his arms.

What are you doing here? When did you get in? I thought you were playing winter ball in Puerto Rico. How long are you staying?

He was barely two years her senioran accident of birth hed used to torment her when theyd been children, unlike her half sister, Frederica, who was older than both of them and had never lorded it over them. Despite it, he was the love of her life.

Which question do you want me to answer first? Laughing, he held her away from him, taking a quick study of her out of tawny and amused eyes. Still scrawny.

And youre still full of it. Hi. She kissed him smackingly on the lips. Mom and Dad didnt say you were coming home.

They didnt know. I heard you were settling in and figured Id better check things out, keep an eye on you. He glanced around the big, filthy room, rolled his eyes. I guess Im too late.