LITMIR.BIZ

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trying to reach for the past thirty minutes. A grateful smile perked up the corners of her brown lips as the blessed warmth inside greeted her. She looked at the signs that pointed the way to the auditions. Taking off her leather gloves, she stuffed them into her jacket pockets and absently ran fingers through her wind-tossed, shoulder-length dark brown hair before tucking strands behind her ears.

      She nodded curt hellos to several fellow ballerinas as she entered the tryout hall to check in. For a moment she wished she had allowed Erina, her coach, to accompany her, but she had firmly dismissed her offer. She was a first-rate ballerina who didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. She could and would do this alone, and she would come out victorious.

      “May I help you?” A man behind the table was looking at her expectantly.

      “Yes. I’m…”

      “Natasha Carter.” A woman smiled and stood.

      She was tall and thin, obviously an ex-dancer. Her black hair was cut very short and framed her smiling face and happy brown eyes. She was, Natasha would guess, in her early forties.

      “Yes.” Natasha smiled slightly. It was nice to be recognized.

      “We’re so glad you could make the auditions, Miss Carter.” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Rachel Weston. I’ll be coproducing and codirecting this little extravaganza, along with taking on the responsibility of casting director.”

      “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Weston.” She briefly shook her hand.

      “Rachel,” she corrected.

      Rachel’s eyes traveled over Natasha. She looked perfect for the lead. But Rachel knew that looks alone were not enough for Damien. Over the years, she had learned how by the book and fanatical he was about his ballet company—only the best talent could work for him, no exceptions. She sighed inwardly as she recounted the numerous hours they had spent scouting for dancers to audition for them before sending out invitations; it had been exhausting, but Damien had insisted they personally sit through entire performances for every dancer being considered for his production.

      “Room number three is set up for Miss Carter.” Rachel walked from behind the desk. “Damien is around here somewhere.” She glanced around the crowded room before refocusing on Natasha. “Let me show you to your dressing room.”

      “Thank you.”

      Natasha eagerly followed her out. Her heart somersaulted in her chest; she was in no shape to meet Damien Johnson yet. She needed a few moments to compose herself before coming face-to-face with the legendary owner of the company she hoped to join.

      “I’ll have someone call when we’re ready for you.” Rachel held open a door for her.

      “Thank you, Ms. Weston.” She smiled briefly while placing her bag onto the floor.

      “Rachel,” she reminded with a smile.

      “Rachel,” she said corrected and returned her smile.

      Once alone, Natasha placed hands to her burning cheeks. She was a mass of quivering jelly. She silently commanded her nerves to subside and rolled her shoulders, shaking out her arms and legs to relax, but to no avail.

      Damien Johnson was here! Of course, she had known he would be, but still the fact that her idol was somewhere in the same building was unreal. He was only thirty-two, but he owned one of the best ballet companies in the world. His meteoric rise had inspired her, and she clung to the hope that he would give her a chance where others had not; after receiving her invitation to audition for him, she felt certain that he would, but only if she performed flawlessly, which she intended to do.

      She quickly shed her street shoes and sweats and donned much more appropriate prima ballerina attire of pale pink leotards, matching jagged-edge wraparound chiffon skirt belted at her tiny waist and expertly laced-up pale pink satin ballerina slippers. Finally, she pulled her hair away from her face, securing it at her nape in a flawless knot.

      After taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she purposefully walked over to the ballet barre and began to warm up.

      * * *

      “Damien, there you are.” Rachel reentered the audition hall and spotted her partner onstage.

      A teasing grin lit up his brown eyes. “Was I lost?”

      “Oh, you!” She laughed and tapped his cheek playfully. “Natasha Carter is here.”

      “Good, that makes everyone—” Damien rubbed his lightly hair-covered chin “—doesn’t it?”

      “Mmm-hmm,” Rachel said and nodded.

      “Okay, I have a few calls to make.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll start in about thirty.”

      “Right,” Rachel said with a nod. “I’m going to check the music.” She turned and asked, “Do you want to do the introductions, or should I?”

      Damien sighed. “You do them. The last thing I need today is a bunch of ballerinas fawning all over me thinking it will improve their chances of making the cut.”

      Rachel laughed. “You’re just too handsome for your own good.”

      Damien chuckled. “Or just too rich and powerful.”

      He winked at Rachel before turning to go to his office. As he exited the auditorium, for some reason, his mind drifted to Natasha Carter’s arrival a short while ago; she had breezed in looking breathtakingly beautiful. He knew the dark brown hair that had curtained her oval face would be swept up or back when he saw her next, and she would be dressed in classic ballerina attire—sheer, sexy leotards that would mold revealingly to her slender yet womanly curves like a second skin.

      He had watched her from the stage as she had smiled politely to Rachel and had intended to join them, but his feet had been rooted in place by her utter beauty. He had mentally scolded himself to stop staring at her like some lovesick schoolboy; however, feelings he hadn’t had in a long time had bombarded him, causing the formation of a hard knot of desire in the pit of his stomach.

      Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he attributed his reaction to the fact that she was an extremely beautiful woman, and as a man, he naturally took note of that fact. However, he was here to cast his ballet; she was here to audition, and he would objectively judge her by her performance and nothing else.

      * * *

      Thirty minutes later, the four auditioning ballerinas took the stage and waited for instructions. Rachel and Damien entered the back of the auditorium. Damien stopped at a pair of high stools a distance from the stage, and Rachel continued toward the stage to give instructions.

      “Welcome, ladies.” Rachel smiled at the four ballerinas as she ascended the stairs. “The Johnson Ballet Company is a world-renowned, medium-sized classical ballet company. We perform about sixty to seventy ballets a year in the U.S. and abroad. This holiday season, we are performing a traditional yet original version of Romeo and Juliet. You all know the order of your performances?” When she received nods, she continued, “Good. Let’s have the first dancer, please.”

      Rachel smiled and nodded to her assistant to begin the taped music of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 before leaving the stage to join Damien. She took the packet of resumés he handed her and pulled out the first one.

      The first ballerina walked center stage and danced adequately, as did the second and the third. Natasha was the last to dance. She assumed the fourth position, hands held elegantly at her sides, patiently waiting for the music to begin.

      Natasha mentally fought for composure and concentrated with all her might on the dance at hand. Her heart had begun beating erratically the moment she had stepped onto the stage, because she knew this was the moment of truth for her. If she couldn’t make it in a black-owned ballet company, then she wouldn’t be able to make it anywhere, and that scenario was unacceptable to her.

      Though she could no longer see Damien Johnson because of the bright

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