With the boys tucked in, Bryn threw on an old leotard, tights and leg warmers, and hurried back downstairs. She could get in some limbering exercises and catch up on the news at the same time.
The trustworthy face of the weatherman came on the screen, announcing that the days would show a warming trend, but the nights would remain cool. Then the anchorman came on and began to talk about a young politician, Dirk Hammarfield, who was beginning his campaign for theU.S.senate inLake Tahoe.
Between leg stretches, Bryn watched with casual interest. The man had the energetic smile of a young Kennedy. He was of medium stature, with nice sandy hair and blue eyes.
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He'd probably get a lot of votes, she thought with a shrug. Maybe evenher own .
Bryn lay down on her stomach, but with her legs stretched, she suddenly froze.
The story on the tube had shifted again.
A pretty anchorwoman was talking; at the left-hand corner of the screen was a picture of a man.
Lee Condor.
Bryn didn't hear what was being said; she was mesmerized by the picture. And by the gold-flecked eyes that were so arresting, even in a still shot.
Perhaps, she tried to tell herself analytically, his eyes were so arresting because they were so very dark--except for the crystalline effect of the gold.Or perhaps because his face was so interesting.High, broad forehead.Dark, defined and arching brows.Straight--dead straight--nose.High cheekbones.Firm, ruggedly squarejawline . And his mouth...even in a still, it looked mobile. As if he could smile easily, yet compress his lips into a line of determined intent...or anger.
His hair was almost a pure jet black--a little long, but still, he looked more as if he could be a businessman than a rock star.Maybe not a businessman.A steelworker, more likely. There was something about him, even in apicture, that hinted at a lean and powerful physical prowess.
Something, as Barbara had mentioned, that made him appear almost overwhelmingly male, all the more so because it was something of which he didn't seem to be aware himself....
The story suddenly went off the air, and a commercial for sandwich bags came on.
Bryn abruptly relaxed her ridiculous pose and shook the tension out of her muscles. I've never even met him, she reminded herself.
But even when she had finished with her exercises, showered, and fallen into bed for the night, she couldn't stop thinking about him.
And wondering what he would be like.
And whether she would ever be able to control the disturbing fever that raced along her spine when she saw that gold fire in his dark eyes.
It won't matter, she assured herself. He'll probably barely notice me, what with all the others__
On that note, she slept.
But her hope was proved false on Tuesday, when she had been at theFultonplace for barely fifteen minutes.
She had been chatting idly and nervously with Barbara as the two did some warm-up exercises when the friendly dance director pulled Barbara away. Moments later Barbara and the directorcame bearing down on her and excitedly dragged her away.
"He says he thinks you're perfect--" Barbara began.
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"It will mean a hike in your pay scale, of course," the director cut in.
"And very little extra work."
"Lee can explain it to you himself."
She suddenly found herself standing before him, and she hadn't even seen him come in. Barbara was issuing an enthusiastic introduction, and he was vaguely smiling, barely attentive to her words.
His eyes--they were a strange hazel, she realized, mahogany at the rim, yellow-green by the pupil--were on her. They swept over her from head to toe, lingering slowly, coming to rest on her own.
"Bryn Keller? You're the photographer, then, too. It's a pleasure to meet you."
His hand was on hers. Rough--there were heavy calluses on his palms. Large--it enveloped her slender fingers.
And hot...
As if a burning energy poured through his system, making him as combustible as an active volcano, except that his power was deceptively calm, like thesnowcapped peak of a mountain beneath a blue sky....
The fire seemed to rip along her spine.
She pulled her hand--jerked it, rather--from his, and stepped back a foot. "Yes, I'm Bryn Keller. If you'll explain what you want, I'll let you know if I'll be capable or not."
Ice... There could have been no better description of her voice. She hadn't really meant to be cold, but...
She had been cold to the point of rudeness.
The gold-tinged eyes narrowed, but barely perceptibly. His voice was a lazy drawl. "Oh, I'm quite sure that you'll be capable, Miss Keller.Quite sure. Tony can explain the concept."
He turned and walked away.
Chapter 2