Fiona Harper - Save the Last Dance - The Ballerina Bride / Invitation to the Boss's Ball

The completeness of the tropical night meant he didn’t see the hearty slap Dave delivered to his shoulder coming.

‘Five,’ Finn said, noticing the defensive tone in his voice with no visuals to distract him. He really didn’t want to get into this right now. Having to build a shelter in the pouring rain had been a lovely distraction from the gaping chasm that had recently opened up in his personal life, thank you very much. And what business of Dave’s was it, anyway?

He shouldn’t be bothered by it, but people like Dave didn’t realise that he and Nat hadn’t had a traditional relationship. Their work schedules had meant they’d been apart more than they’d been together in five years, so it had been closer to one and a half years in normal people’s terms.

Dave sighed, his voice still tinged with good humour. ‘Didn’t think there was a woman alive who’d make old Finn here settle down!’

‘I’m not settling anywhere,’ Finn said quickly. And then he remembered his promise to Nat to keep quiet about the split and decided not to elaborate further. Settling down… Ugh. He hated that phrase, and probably would have reacted to it anyway. ‘I just felt I’d reached an age when it was time to stop wandering around and put down some roots.’

Nat’s comments from the previous evening started to swirl around his head, but he batted them away as if they were mosquitoes.

There was a mournful little sound from the huddled figure beside him. It started off almost like a moan but ended like a yawn. She must be exhausted. He and Dave were used to this relentless schedule, but it was hard on their guests. There wasn’t much to do now but wait until the rain stopped and talk amongst themselves, but Dave was as subtle—and as discreet—as a foghorn, and the sooner they ended this topic of conversation the better.

‘We might as well try to get some rest,’ Finn said.

All three of them shuffled until they were lying on the bamboo floor of the shelter. Finn was instantly still, but the other two fidgeted for quite some time. Hardly surprising, on a bed like this. Eventually, though, everything went still and quiet.

They weren’t quite touching, but he could sense Allegra was as stiff horizontal as she had been vertical. How odd. He was sure her name was more familiar now he thought about it, that Nat had dragged him along to watch her perform when they’d first been seeing each other.

Allegra Martin. That was her name.

He tried to sharpen the brief, fuzzy snatches of memory from that night. There wasn’t much to go on. He couldn’t remember where he and Nat had gone for dinner before the performance, or what either of them had worn, or even if they’d gone home together afterwards, but he remembered Allegra’s dancing.

Despite the fact he’d moaned loud and long about being dragged to Covent Garden, he’d actually been struck by the unexpected beauty of it all. Odd, really. Because to Finn McLeod beauty wasn’t normally found caged within four walls and a ceiling, no matter how grand the old building was. True beauty was usually found in wild, open spaces.

She must have been really young then. Little more than a kid. And yet he’d never seen something move that way before—so free and fluid and graceful. Except maybe the Northern Lights over the Arctic.

Didn’t seem to have much of that fluidity about her now, though, which was a pity. In the wild, you had to go with the flow. She was going to need every bit of flexibility she possessed if she was going to survive the challenges of the coming week.

He sighed, folded his hands behind his head and peered up into the featureless sky, hoping to see the twinkle of a star eventually. Perhaps conversation would have been better, because now the other two castaways were asleep he was left alone with his thoughts.

He’d thought he and Nat were the perfect couple. What on earth had gone wrong? He just didn’t get it.

Must still be numb, though, because he wasn’t feeling half as crushed as he’d expected to. Sad and disappointed, yes, but not devastated. But that was because he was strong, he supposed. Resilient.

He thought he saw a pinprick of light up above and stilled his thoughts for a few seconds while he tried to focus on it.

Hmm. Having a broken heart wasn’t nearly as bad as people said it was. He’d always thought those people who sang the whiny love ballads on the radio were being overly dramatic, and now he felt justifiably superior about being right about it all along.

He had a feeling his heart was mending already. In true Fearless Finn style, he was sure he’d survive.

The drip of water on the leaves above her head was keeping Allegra awake. At least, that was what she was telling herself. Drips and the cold. And the ridges of the bamboo poles, of course. It certainly wasn’t anything else.

Not the sense of being turned upside down and back to front. Not the electric charge thrumming between her and the man lying next to her. Or the fact it was almost certainly a one-way sensation. No, those things weren’t bothering her at all.

She sighed and rolled over onto her back. Every part of the motion was painful. She’d be bruised from head to toe in the morning, wouldn’t be able to dance properly for days…

Her stomach dropped to the same chilly temperature as the night air swirling around inside their makeshift shelter.

Dancing.

She wasn’t planning on doing any of that for the next seven days, was she? So it really shouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t be there to dance the Saturday evening performance of The Little Mermaid. Tamzin would be thrilled to take her place. So there was no need for Allegra to rehearse, no need to do class.

She sat up and hugged her arms around herself. Everyone would be furious with her. Stephen. Her father. The choreographer. The Artistic Director of the company… The list was endless.

She’d let them all down.

Guilt washed over her, matching its tempo to the crash of surf on the beach. She hugged herself tighter and rested her chin on her knees.

But she’d been letting them all down for months, anyway, hadn’t she? Who wanted a soulless robot as their partner, or their principal dancer? Or their daughter?

And now she was seeing the same hesitation in the eyes of the one man she’d hoped would save her from it. Collecting leaves and plaiting vines? He didn’t think she could do it, did he? Didn’t think she’d last a week on this island. She swivelled her head to look at Finn. Couldn’t see him, though, even though his feet must be right beside her. It was way too dark. She wanted very badly to poke him in the ribs right now and tell him he was wrong.

She didn’t, of course.

Mostly because she feared he was right. Escaping from her life had been such a wonderful fantasy. But that was all it had ever been—a fantasy. Too bad she hadn’t realised that before she’d snapped and turned it into a reality.

Now she was stuck here on a stormy desert island with a surly cameraman capturing her every shortcoming and a man who saw what everyone else saw when they looked at her. A disappointment.

To make matters worse, she’d probably kissed goodbye to her career as well. What had she been thinking?

Nothing.

She hadn’t been thinking at all, simply reacting. Like a tectonic plate that after years of crushing pressure had popped free, sending tremors in all directions. Every area of her life had been affected by this one rash decision. The only rash decision she’d ever made. She should have been thankful for her stale little life. At least last week she’d had a life.

Finn shifted position beside her and her heart did a little skip, a little flutter, and then settled back into place. She eased herself back down gently so she was facing him in the darkness, could feel the warmth of his even breath on her cheek.