Chapter One
New Year’s Eve, last year
Hangovers and early flights didn’t mix well for Nikolai Kovalenko. And since he was getting on a plane first thing the next morning, he’d been sucking down seltzer with lime all night. As a result, the poolside bar at his brother Dimitri’s annual New Year’s Eve bash was completely out of the stuff, and the mini water bottles were gone, too. The bartender offered him tonic, but Nik turned him down. He could just go inside for a glass of water.
The party was at Dimitri’s house, and Nik knew his way to the kitchen well. After all, he lived here, too, though not for much longer. But Mitya—as Nik had called Dimitri for as long as he could remember—didn’t know that yet, and Nik wasn’t sure when to break the news. Dimitri would never admit it, but Nik knew his brother liked having him around, even though Nik was often away on touring productions of Broadway shows for long stretches of time.
In the kitchen, Nik spotted one of Mitya’s coworkers fromThe Dance Off—Jess Davenport, a professional ballroom dancer—and gave her a nod in greeting. He didn’t know her well, but they’d met a few times before. She had dark eyes that sparked with humor, smooth brown skin, and a nimbus of black curls. She was petite, probably one of the shortest female dancers on the show, but with a strong, athletic build—currently showcased to perfection in a strapless silver cocktail dress.
Her ass was planted on the breakfast counter, and she was eating potato chips right out of the bag. He raised an eyebrow at the chips—there were servers circulating outside, offering food catered by Dimitri’s restaurant.
“I wanted something salty,” she said with a shrug.
Nik took a glass down from the cabinet and filled it from the filter spout by the sink. “I wanted some water.”
From outside, raised voices began counting down from thirty. Nik shot a glance at the microwave clock. 11:59.
Jess picked up the open bottle of champagne next to her on the counter, probably left over from pouring the toast—the toast they were missing. Lifting it to her lips, she said, “Well, cheers, I guess.” And took a swig.
Twenty-five, twenty-four…
Almost midnight. Another year gone. Nik would be twenty-seven next year.
Outside, people laughed and cheered drunkenly as they counted down together. If he ran, he could join them.
But…why? Most of them were his brother’s friends and colleagues anyway. Some of them would be pairing off to garner a kiss at midnight, adhering to the superstition thatnotkissing someone meant you’d be lonely for the rest of the year.
Well, Nik was leaving the next day to rehearse his role as a dancer in the national tour ofSeize the Night, a musical about rival vigilante gangs. And with the whirlwind that was life on the road, he didn’t have time to be lonely.
Then again…why tempt fate?
Nik set down his water and sent Jess a shrewd look. “Hey. You single?”
Jess lowered the champagne bottle and scrunched up her brow. “Yeah. Why?”
He jerked his head to the side, indicating the revelers counting down to midnight. “Wanna kiss?”
Her lips pressed together like she was holding back a smile. Narrowing her eyes, she swept him with an appraising once-over.
Seventeen, sixteen…
Whatever she saw in him passed muster. She crooked her finger, beckoning him over, but didn’t hop down from the counter.
The saucy look in her dark eyes and the sexy little finger taunt had his pulse speeding up. What had started as a friendly, almost bored suggestion, built in anticipation as Nik crossed the kitchen to her and stepped into the space between her parted knees.
“I was just eating potato chips,” she reminded him, licking her fingertips. The innocent move sent a curl of arousal through him.
“I don’t care.” He took the champagne bottle and gulped some down. The bubbles raced across his tongue, invigorating and tart. A little wouldn’t hurt. And anyway, he had the feeling it would be worth it.
Eight, seven…
“Sour cream and onion,” she said, reclaiming the bottle for another sip before setting it aside.
“Still don’t care.” Nik stepped in closer and slipped his arm around her waist.
He met her gaze, waiting for midnight. Hers held amusement, and her lush lips curved just a little as she draped her arms over his shoulders. She smelled like cherries.
Three, two…
