have become a possibility if you hadn’t acted like a stuck-up snob.”
His eyes widened until she could see their dark-brown centers. “Me? A snob!”
“Yes,
you
.”
“I…I’m not a snob,” he sputtered as blood darkened his olive skin under a rich summer tan.
“You can believe whatever you choose to believe, Gabriel. You’re probably so used to people, women in particular, fawning over you because of your celebrity status that you hold back a little of yourself.”
“That may be true at times, but not here.”
Summer shrugged a shoulder. She did not intend to argue with him. He was aloof and a snob. Picking upthe notebook, she handed it to him. “Take a look at what I’ve come up with.”
Gabriel took the book, his fingers grazing Summer’s long manicured fingers. The forefinger of his left hand caressed the hair on his upper lip in an up-and-down stroking motion. He had spent the last six months growing a beard, but had shaved it off before coming to Weir. He had become so used to facial hair that he decided to leave the mustache.
His gaze lingered on her neat slanting writing; his only visible reaction was a slight lifting of his expressive eyebrows. It appeared that not only was Summer talented and beautiful, but also quite intelligent. A most winning combination when the appeal of some of the women he had become involved with was that of eye-candy. Their only asset was that they were superficially pretty. Some he dated because that was what his publicist recommended. He’d agreed to escort them to opening night premieres, Hollywood parties, championship sporting events, but he had never slept with any of them.
“I like the titles.
A Musical History of the Americas in Song and Dance. A Journey through the Americas in Song and Dance. An American Experience in Song and Dance
.”
A flicker of excitement lit up Summer’s eyes. “I personally like
An Odyssey of Music and Dance in the Americas
. I believe a production covering everything from Native American and slave chants to Negro spirituals, Irish step dancing, the waltz, Bluegrass, Jazz, Ragtime, Country, Zydeco, Blues, Big Band, R&B, Rock and Roll, Folk, Soul, Latin and up to and including Rap and Hip-Hop will offer a little somethingto everyone: faculty, staff, students, and their families. It will cross cultures and generations.”
Gabriel stroked his mustache. “It sounds like a monumental undertaking.”
Summer stared at his handsome face. “You got game, Gabriel?”
Grinning, his straight white teeth showing under the mustache, he said softly, accepting her challenge, “I got lots of game, Summer. How about you?”
“More than you’ll ever know,” she crooned.
Leaning back in his chair, he angled his head. “I suppose that settles it. You’re the lead teacher for the spring production, and I’ll take the Christmas holiday program. It looks as if Desiree is going to have her work cut out for her with all of the stage decorations.”
Resting her elbows on her desk, Summer leaned forward. “I’m certain she will be up to the challenge.” Desiree had lived on three continents, married and divorced Kenyan and Japanese artists, had owned an art gallery in Los Angeles, and had spent several years in Hollywood as a set designer.
He nodded. “Why don’t we get together this weekend and begin planning what we’re going to need to put on a first-rate production?”
“I can’t. Not this weekend.” This weekend she was to meet with Lucas Shelby for her bi-monthly briefing session.
“When?”
“Next weekend.”
“My place or yours?” Gabriel asked.
She had rented a furnished condominium apartment in Whitman, a bedroom community south of Boston with a population of thirteen thousand residents. Although there was nothing in her apartment that wouldlink her to her undercover role, she had made it a habit not to invite strangers to her temporary residences. The place she called home was in St. Louis, Missouri. In between
His eyes widened until she could see their dark-brown centers. “Me? A snob!”
“Yes,
you
.”
“I…I’m not a snob,” he sputtered as blood darkened his olive skin under a rich summer tan.
“You can believe whatever you choose to believe, Gabriel. You’re probably so used to people, women in particular, fawning over you because of your celebrity status that you hold back a little of yourself.”
“That may be true at times, but not here.”
Summer shrugged a shoulder. She did not intend to argue with him. He was aloof and a snob. Picking upthe notebook, she handed it to him. “Take a look at what I’ve come up with.”
Gabriel took the book, his fingers grazing Summer’s long manicured fingers. The forefinger of his left hand caressed the hair on his upper lip in an up-and-down stroking motion. He had spent the last six months growing a beard, but had shaved it off before coming to Weir. He had become so used to facial hair that he decided to leave the mustache.
His gaze lingered on her neat slanting writing; his only visible reaction was a slight lifting of his expressive eyebrows. It appeared that not only was Summer talented and beautiful, but also quite intelligent. A most winning combination when the appeal of some of the women he had become involved with was that of eye-candy. Their only asset was that they were superficially pretty. Some he dated because that was what his publicist recommended. He’d agreed to escort them to opening night premieres, Hollywood parties, championship sporting events, but he had never slept with any of them.
“I like the titles.
A Musical History of the Americas in Song and Dance. A Journey through the Americas in Song and Dance. An American Experience in Song and Dance
.”
A flicker of excitement lit up Summer’s eyes. “I personally like
An Odyssey of Music and Dance in the Americas
. I believe a production covering everything from Native American and slave chants to Negro spirituals, Irish step dancing, the waltz, Bluegrass, Jazz, Ragtime, Country, Zydeco, Blues, Big Band, R&B, Rock and Roll, Folk, Soul, Latin and up to and including Rap and Hip-Hop will offer a little somethingto everyone: faculty, staff, students, and their families. It will cross cultures and generations.”
Gabriel stroked his mustache. “It sounds like a monumental undertaking.”
Summer stared at his handsome face. “You got game, Gabriel?”
Grinning, his straight white teeth showing under the mustache, he said softly, accepting her challenge, “I got lots of game, Summer. How about you?”
“More than you’ll ever know,” she crooned.
Leaning back in his chair, he angled his head. “I suppose that settles it. You’re the lead teacher for the spring production, and I’ll take the Christmas holiday program. It looks as if Desiree is going to have her work cut out for her with all of the stage decorations.”
Resting her elbows on her desk, Summer leaned forward. “I’m certain she will be up to the challenge.” Desiree had lived on three continents, married and divorced Kenyan and Japanese artists, had owned an art gallery in Los Angeles, and had spent several years in Hollywood as a set designer.
He nodded. “Why don’t we get together this weekend and begin planning what we’re going to need to put on a first-rate production?”
“I can’t. Not this weekend.” This weekend she was to meet with Lucas Shelby for her bi-monthly briefing session.
“When?”
“Next weekend.”
“My place or yours?” Gabriel asked.
She had rented a furnished condominium apartment in Whitman, a bedroom community south of Boston with a population of thirteen thousand residents. Although there was nothing in her apartment that wouldlink her to her undercover role, she had made it a habit not to invite strangers to her temporary residences. The place she called home was in St. Louis, Missouri. In between