Counterpointe by Ann Warner Read Free Book Online Page B

door and turned back to the main cabin as Rob came down the steps carrying a cooler. He pointed out the head and gave her a quick lesson on the proper use of a marine toilet, followed by safety instructions and a life vest fitting. Then they climbed topside.
     
    After they cleared the harbor, Rob had her take the helm while he turned various cranks to pull the sails into position. Although he had a rangier build than most dancers, he moved on the slanted deck with a competent assurance that was a pleasure to watch.
     
    That was definitely on her list, Clare decided. To attract her, a man didn’t have to be a dancer but he couldn’t be physically awkward.
     
    Work on the sails complete, Rob came and stood beside her, letting her continue to steer. After several minutes, he leaned closer and adjusted the wheel slightly. “Keep us lined up with that spit of land.” Then he fell silent again. It was one of the things she liked about him—that he didn’t try to fill every quiet moment with words.
     
    The boat skimmed along, responding to wind and current, that responsiveness transferring through deck and wheel into Clare’s arms, hands, body. It was enough to concentrate on, to savor, without the distraction of speech. Most days, her life was saturated with sound. The ballet master counting out the steps for company class, her voice echoing off the mirrors in the big studio. The controlled chaos of rehearsal, the stopping, starting, stopping. The constant chatter in the dressing rooms, the deeper mutter from the male dancers waiting out a break.
     
    “Can you teach me how to sail?” she asked the silent man standing by her side.
     

    “Do you remember your first day with the company?” Denise asked as she and Clare lay stretched on lounges on the roof of the Marblehead house soaking up the weak spring sun.
     
    The question brought a rush of memory, as if a door had opened on a gale. Without me, you’re nothing.
     
    Clare shoved away words that should have been erased by the success of the past season. After all, she’d proven that without Zach, she was something. An unpleasant surprise to discover his words still had power.
     
    She took a breath before responding to Denise’s question. “Lord, yes. I had to pretend you were a pack of friendly mutts before I could make myself walk in.”
     
    “Lisa was the Pomeranian. Right? That was definitely before you got to know her.”
     
    “Definitely.”
     
    “She’s going to be even worse next year. Especially if you end up first cast for Swan Lake .”
     
    “Which Justin all but promised.”
     
    “So when were you going to tell me?” Denise asked.
     
    “What? I did tell you.”
     
    “Not about Swan Lake . About you and Stephan.”
     
    “What about me and Stephan?”
     
    “That you’re a couple.”
     
    “What on earth makes you think that?”
     
    “It’s...well, you’ve been too busy for us to get together lately, even though it’s off-season. I thought...”
     
    “I know you like Stephan. I would never go behind your back. Besides, he’s my dance partner. Been there, done that.” Clare shuddered and spoke reluctantly. “I am seeing someone, but it isn’t Stephan.”
     
    “Who? Come on, Clare. Spill.”
     
    “He’s a professor of medicinal chemistry at Northeastern.”
     
    “Okay. Tell me something believable.”
     
    “No. Really. His name is Rob Chapin.”
     
    “Is it serious?”
     
    “We’ve only gone out a few times.”
     
    “That doesn’t answer the question, Eliason.”
     
    “It isn’t yet.” But maybe ...
     

    The Ariadne swung at anchor a short distance off a rocky beach. Clare sat in the shade of the cockpit, her arms around her knees, watching Rob tend a fishing line. Mona sat beside Clare, head up, eyes bright and alert.
     
    In the past month she and Rob had been sailing twice and they’d gone to dinner together at least once a week.
     
    So, okay, Eliason. Enough dithering. Go for it, already. Ask