Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,23

only thing out of context with his sleekly tailored appearance as he entered her office, overpowering everything in the small space. “Hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you. Do dance teachers get off at five like the rest of the work force?”

Sloan rose and smiled. “Not always, but you’re not disturbing me.” He was disturbing her, but not as he thought.

Donna still stood in the doorway, agape at their casual greetings. “Thank you, Donna,” Sloan dismissed her gently. She cast a quick, apologetic glance Wes’s way. “Mr. Adams will stop by your desk on the way out.”

Wesley quirked a puzzled brow but agreed with her, smiling to the girl. “Sure, I’ll stop by on my way out.”

“Thank you,” Donna murmured, flushed and pleasantly pink as she closed the door.

“Why am I stopping by on my way out?” he asked playfully as he took the one chair before Sloan’s desk and they both seated themselves.

“An autograph. I hope you don’t mind.”

Dark brows knit loosely above Wes’s ever-changing green eyes. “I don’t mind at all, but I wasn’t planning on leaving. Not without you.”

“Oh?” Sloan felt her heart begin to pound harder.

“I was hoping you’d come to dinner with me.”

The pounding became thunderous. She certainly couldn’t pat herself on the back for playing the femme fatale too well, but he was coming to her anyway. Had he really cared something for her all those years? It was impossible to tell whether he spoke with meaning or if his words were the pleasant, teasing games that all men—she thought—played. All men except Terry. She couldn’t think about Terry right now, but unfortunately, neither could she accept Wesley’s invitation. She had nothing tangible to go on yet, and she had commitments she couldn’t disregard even if she did.

“Wesley,” she murmured unhappily, “I’d love to go to dinner with you, but I can’t. Jim and I do a dance as well as the students, and I need a little practice time by myself. And I have to pick up the children and spend time with them and feed them—”

“I’ve already taken all that into consideration,” Wesley interrupted her, giving her his dazzling, lopsided grin. He leaned his elbows upon her desk to draw closer, and the effect of his nearness was mesmerizing. “We’ll pick up the kids together and run to your house so that you can shower and change. Then we’ll take the kids over to the steak house, come back so that you can spend time with them and practice, and then we’ll go out. Florence will be ready anytime we are. And you won’t have to worry about your time with your children—they’ll be in bed before we go. We won’t stay out late—I know morning comes quickly on working days.”

Sloan stared into his eyes feeling a bit of awe and wonder herself. She may not be in love with Wesley, she decided, but she couldn’t recall liking or even respecting a man more! He was one of the most sensitive men she had ever met, understanding in every way, not just tolerating her children, but taking great care to keep their needs at the top of his priority list.

“You are marvelous!” she whispered, and she meant every word. Another smile spread slowly across her delicately boned face, erasing the tension and strain of the day. “Thank you, Wesley,” she murmured tentatively, strangely humbled by his thoughtfulness.

“For what?” he demanded, his gentle, probing green stare telling her all that she needed to know even as he brushed her gratitude aside as unnecessary.

“For understanding,” she said softly.

He chuckled, but his strong features were intense, and she was left to wonder about the depths of his sincerity. “I don’t have much time to convince you that I’m madly in love with you and should forever after be the only man in your life. Come on, we’ll take my car and worry about yours later.”

Sloan smiled a little uneasily and straightened the folders on her desk. She would deal with them in a much better frame of mind in the morning. “The entire evening sounds beautifully planned,” she said huskily. “Just give me two minutes to check out with Jim and five minutes to hop into the shower.”

“Take fifteen,” Wes laughed, rising. “I’ll go take care of your dancing football fan.”

There was more than one fan in the office by the time Sloan had slipped out the back of the maze to the showers and returned to go over a few notes with Jim. Some