in the glassed-in atrium of the harbor-tour cruise ship.
He was staring at the small magazine rack, the Statue of Liberty visible through the glass behind him.
“They didn’t,” she assured him, peering at the small square photo on the bottom corner of the tabloid newspaper. It had been taken last night as they exited the limo.
“Well, not last night, anyway,” she allowed “They must have looked it up later.”
“Katrina Jacobs on the town,” he read. “You want to buy it and read the story?”
“I don’t need to read the story. I was there, remember?”
“You think they caught us kissing in the park?”
“Do you care?”
“Not at all. Well, maybe if Travis saw it. He’d sure be ticked off. But to these anonymous New Yorkers?” Reed waved a dismissive hand. “I’m the guy who kissed the prima ballerina. I can strut.”
“I’m a principal dancer.”
He gave a mock frown. “That doesn’t sound nearly as exotic.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Quit complaining. I had to kiss a cowboy.”
He leaned in close and snagged her hand, voice gravelly. “You did a hell of a lot more than kiss him.”
The words spurred a hot shiver of remembrance. But she couldn’t act on it in public.
Then a family entered the atrium, adding to the crowd, and Reed gently urged her toward the glass door. It slid smoothly open, and they exited onto the windy deck, finding an empty place at the rail.
“You going to come and watch me dance tonight?” she opened. She wished she dared ask him how long he was planning to stay in the city. That was what she really wanted to know. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t push.
“Am I invited?” he asked in return, his gaze fixed on the Manhattan skyline, growing closer as their two-hour tour came to an end.
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“I have to be at the theater a few hours early, but I’ll leave a ticket at the box office.” She tried not to let her excitement rise at the thought of Reed in the audience, but her heartbeat deepened and her chest felt fuzzy. She’d dance for him tonight. It would be all for him.
“You can come backstage afterward,” she offered.
He was silent for a long moment.
“If you’d like,” she added, growing uncomfortable.
“Sure.” There was no inflection in his tone.
Had she made a misstep? It was impossible to tell, and the silence stretched between them.
“New York really is different from Colorado,” he observed.
“Taller buildings?” she asked, not really caring. Did he want to come backstage or not? Did he want to see her after the performance? Would he invite her back to the hotel? Or was he already searching for a way to let her down easily?
“Taller buildings, more noise, more people, more…I don’t know…life, I guess.”
She turned to study his profile. “Is it that bad?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you at ten years old.”
“I didn’t see it all at once,” she remembered. “I saw the airport, then Auntie Coco’s apartment. I knew there was a lot of traffic on the streets, but I never guessed how far the city sprawled.”
“Were you frightened by the crowds?”
She shook her head. “Ironically, I was lonely. But I liked the dancing, and I liked the sparkling lights.” She smiled to herself. “I particularly liked the sidewalks. I liked that you could sweep the dirt away, and they were clean and smooth.”
“I like dirt,” said Reed.
“Is that a joke?” She couldn’t tell.
“It’s life,” he said. “The dirt is what starts everything. You add seeds, and they grow into plants that get eaten by animals. And at the end of a day, if you’re dirty and sweaty, and you smell like the outdoors, you know you’ve done good. You’ve worked hard. Something that wasn’t there that morning now exists. It could be a stack of hay bales, a fence, a working motor, some clean tack. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just that you did it.”
“I hate getting dirty,” Katrina reaffirmed. Not that Reed would be surprised by that statement. It was the constant dust on her clothes and the grit in her hair that had made her most crazy growing up.
“You’re such a girl,” he teased.
“Good thing I’m pretty.”
His smile disappeared. “You’re more than just pretty.” He looked as though he was about to say something else. But then he stopped. He drew a breath. “Ever been to the Empire State Building?”
“I have.”
“You want to go again?”
“With you?” Her chest hitched.
“Tomorrow?”
She gathered her courage. “So, you’re