Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,60

to her own office—she plunged right in before she could lose her nerve and determined impetus. “Have you thought any more about setting up your own school?”

Jim sighed and shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but that’s about all. I’m not really in shape yet to try my own wings.”

“But I am!” Sloan whispered softly.

“What?”

“Think about it!” Sloan urged excitedly, planting her elbows on the desk as her dream took flight. “I can swing the financial end, you can handle administrative problems, and we both teach and eventually form a first-rate company. What do you think?”

“Sloan”—Jim shook his head—“you’re not even going to be here—”

“Oh, I have a feeling it will be a long, long time before we make the actual move to Kentucky,” she said dryly, wondering herself if she would ever be asked to accompany her husband to his home. “And besides,” she added hastily, expecting his further objections, “it will be a business, a partnership. If I do leave, you hire another teacher, and since I know it would be a success, the investment would still be worthwhile.”

Jim scratched his forehead thoughtfully, hesitating with his reply, but Sloan could see the light of anticipation dawning in his eyes. “Have you discussed this with Wes?” he asked.

“No,” Sloan answered slowly. Then she bit down hard onto her jaw, remembering the taunting way he had tossed the money and cards on the bed in Belgium—payment for services rendered. “I’m sure Wes isn’t going to care,” she said, biting back the taste of bitterness the words cost her. “We’ll be returning it all eventually.”

“Sloan,” Jim advised uncertainly, “you’re talking I don’t know how many thousands—”

“Don’t worry about the money,” she interrupted quickly. “I’ll handle that end of it.” She scribbled the names and addresses of Wesley’s attorney and accountant on a scratch pad and pushed it toward him. “Just be in the lawyer’s office a week from Monday.”

From that point on, Sloan gave little heed to the repercussions that might fall her way if Wes did return before she was set. He had been gone over a month without a single word, and though her heart often ached with a physical pain, she was hardening. Her ambition to set up her own school and dance company had her captured in a whirlpool she was powerless to stop or deny, and the whirlpool was swirling away with no hindrance.

Florence thought the idea wonderful; so did Wesley’s attorney and his accountant—the latter telling Sloan that if all did fall apart, Wes could take a healthy tax break. She wasn’t particularly fond of his lack of faith, but she didn’t really care as long as he was helping her.

And thankfully, Wes had informed no one that he wasn’t on the best of terms with his wife. She had feared at first that he might have put restrictions on her expenditures, but that was obviously not the case. The accountant didn’t blink an eye when she held her breath and rattled off the sums she would need.

On the first day of fall her school was opened. As she and Jim had hoped, they were besieged by past and present students of the college who wanted to engage in more serious study.

“This is going to be a success,” Jim said with awe as he looked over their records at the end of the day.

“Of course!” Sloan laughed teasingly. “We have to be the best this side of Philadelphia!”

“I hope so,” Jim said fervently, “I just wish—”

Sloan cut him off, knowing his reference would be to Wes. She had become so accustomed to inventing phone calls and conversations with her husband that she didn’t even think as the next reassuring lie slipped from her lips. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I talked to Wes last night, and he thinks the whole thing is marvelous! He still doesn’t know when he’ll be back, and this will keep me busy and off the streets.”

She was kept busy. Another two weeks saw their venture in full swing. Although the work load didn’t keep Sloan’s mind from wondering achingly about her husband, it did keep her on an even keel. The studio was beautiful—she had grown increasingly ostentatious as she discovered the flow of her seemingly unlimited funds, and they offered every amenity to their classes. A smile that wasn’t entirely happy but purely satisfied was on her lips when Jim ambled into their mutual, roomy, shag-rugged and leather-furnished office after his last tap class at five.

“Patty Smith is waiting for