So I'm posting both Chapter 1 and 2 here because my first post was the prologue and I don't want my chapters messing up lol. I promise I'll post one chapter at a time from now on. I hope you all enjoy my story! This is my first multi-chapter fic, so I would really appreciate your comments and reviews! Thank you! XOXO

Chapter 1

Maya had never really been one for making snap judgments, but it took her precisely fifteen minutes in her new position as Art Teacher at Greenwich Village High School to realize that she had one hell of a job on her hands. She hadn't been given much information before accepting the position but it appeared that her predecessor had been somewhat lax in his teaching methods and as a result she had arrived to find a bunch of poorly motivated students with little to no work ethic, meandering aimlessly round their class time with zero focus. It was enough to give her little OCD-self minor heart-failure.

For the first few days she was a silent observer – masking her horror with smiles and nods, and then returning each night to her home to take several Advil and practice every anti-anxiety breathing exercise her therapist had ever suggested. She then progressed from the panic phase to the damage control phase – starting with making lists. Lists of students, administrators, techniques, improvements, lists of everything. Maya liked lists. A lot. Lists meant control.

Which was why she found herself one afternoon sitting at the desk in classroom, paper covering every inch of the surface except for the two small spaces her elbows took up as she held her head forlornly in her hands. She'd already had a meeting with the administrators to spell out her initial plan for creating a better learning environment; coming from a haven of organization had meant she had a clear idea in her head of what would improve learning conditions, and changing the administrators' mind-sets had been the first step. She'd spent the rest of the day watching the students freely express themselves, a thick notepad in her hand, soon filled with notes. It had left her with a far more positive outlook – they were rough but had potential – there were two juniors in particular who had caught her eye and she knew that with the right guidance could do exceptional things with some paint and a blank canvas. The technique was there, discipline she could work on… it was the inspiration that was missing.

Inspiration… what would any great artist do? She found herself wondering.

Which was how she found herself at the door of a decidedly dilapidated dance studio, less than three blocks from the school. Dance With Me! The sign above the door exclaimed, looking like it had seen somewhat better days. Pushing open the door and stepping cautiously inside she took in the waiting area and the noticeboard filled with competition dates and results. Despite her initial misgivings about the state of the building, the results themselves seemed impressive and she could tell from the clear instructions to dancers and parents on the rules and regulations of the studio that whoever owned the place clearly knew what they were doing.

There was nobody in the reception area but she could hear music from what she presumed was the main studio, the heavy Latin beat occasionally punctuated by a fiercely projected instruction in a slight Southern accent.

She had no idea how long she'd have to wait but she wasn't about to barge in on a practice session so she took a seat and waited, checking her phone to make sure she still had plenty of time before she needed to pick up Noah from preschool. After twenty or so minutes the music came to a stop and a gaggle of teenage students exited the room towards the changing area. Steeling herself, she rose to her feet and entered the studio. The smell of wood-polish and sweat hit her as soon as the door closed and she found herself almost tip-toeing to avoid the click of her heels from harshly intruding. At the far end of the room a solid figure crouched at the music system, clad in black dress pants with a black tank displaying a pretty impressive upper body – he had a bit of a Johnny Castle from Dirty Dancing vibe about him and when he finally noticed her standing at the end of the room and looked up to meet her gaze it was all she could do to stop herself blushing like a schoolgirl.

"Hello?"

"Umm, hi…" great start Maya, tongue-tied already.

Pulling herself together she made her way across the room and he rose to meet her halfway. He was tall – well over six feet and by the time she reached him, even with her stupidly high heels he was still towering over her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt like this," she began, mentally chastising herself for coming across so nervous – she had worked on this; she didn't need to worry about what other people thought of her, she wasn't being judged… Except when his eyes roamed from her face, slowly down her body and back up again, she got the distinct impression that an assessment of some sort was definitely going on, even if it wasn't the type of judgment she was usually afraid of.

"Lucas Friar…" he extended his hand towards her and she shook it with as much conviction as she could muster, her small hand almost disappearing in his.

"Maya Hart," she smiled, trying to ignore the little flutter in a part of her body she hadn't felt a flutter in for a considerable amount of time.

"Are you here about the adult beginner classes?" he asked with a smile.

"Umm no, actually I'm here with a bit of a business proposal," she began.

He all but rolled his eyes, "Look, Ms Hart, I don't want to be rude but I'm a busy man…"

She fought every urge not to say 'kthanksverymuchbye' and run from the room, "I understand," she all but stammered, "If you could just…"

He glanced up at a clock on the wall behind her, obviously irritated that she was interrupting his schedule, "Okay, you've got five minutes," he folded his arms and stood with his legs wide apart, brow furrowed in concentration.

Maya took a deep breath, "Well, I'm an art teacher…sorry I'm the art teacher at Greenwich Village High School– the school just round the corner." He nodded in recognition, "Well I just took up the post, I'm originally from Pennsylvania…" she was rambling now, he didn't give a shit where she came from. "I've just started working with the kids there and one of the things I really think would benefit them would be to work with a ballroom dance instructor…"

He took an intake of breath, knowing what was coming. "Miss Hart, how could that possibly help? Painting and dancing are two very different beasts."

"Umm, I'm aware of that," she'd replied before she'd even thought of it, she didn't appreciate the idea that her passion was somehow inferior to his.

"So you'll understand when I tell you that the teams I train here are some of the best in the country. I really don't have time for…"

"And the students that I'm teaching aren't some of the best in the country?" Okay, technically right now they weren't setting the world on fire with their artwork, but he didn't need to know that.

He glanced up at the clock again, obviously keen to get away, "I really don't care to understand how your students would benefit from…"

He'd really riled her up now, who was he to suggest that she couldn't possibly be teaching future Pablo Picassos'? "Look Mr. Friar, you might be coaching the next Fred and Ginger in here for all I know, but taking a look at the place I really don't think you're in the position to be turning down the business, though feel free to tell me if I'm wrong."

She took a step closer towards him defiantly and he stood his ground, she could almost feel the waves of stubbornness and pride and something decidedly masculine that she couldn't even put her finger on, just radiating from him but she was on a roll now and wasn't about to stop, "I'm asking you, if you'd be willing, to teach my students to dance. I truly believe that having them express themselves in the form of dance will inspire new ideas for their art. Seeing art in motion and learning how to move their bodies in a way that they've never moved before could give them the spark that's missing in their masterpieces. Never mind what you think about my passion for painting, though you're always welcome to grab a paintbrush and give it a try. I just need to know, are you willing to consider it or do I have to move to the next studio on my list and ask them?"

He grabbed the piece of paper she was wielding in her hand from her and glanced at the list of studios she'd scribbled down from her internet search.

"Hmm, interesting." He nodded in recognition of the other names, "Your five minutes are up."

"Excuse me?"

"I said I'd give you five minutes, I gave you five minutes and I have somewhere I need to be." He began striding towards the door, leaving her standing in shock.

"So?" she all but groaned in frustration.

He gave her a maddeningly sexy smile as he opened the door for her and guided her through, "I'll think about it…"

Chapter 2

So he'd finally relented and agreed to work with her students. It had taken quite a bit of persuading on her part, she'd even resorted to flirting at one point, but had been rather insulted to realize that her attempts had gone completely unnoticed. It had eventually been a serendipitous leak at the Dance With Me studios which had saved her; an old pipe above the main studio had fractured one night, leaving Lucas to arrive the next morning to a flood and nowhere for his teams to train. Of course Greenwich Village High School had its own dedicated, state of the art dance studio (unused up until that point due to funding for their dance program), and though she could see the look of pain visible on his face, he finally conceded victory to her and agreed to train her students.

At first he'd found it hard to adapt to teens who weren't used to dancing and he agreed with her immediately that some of seniors were really beyond help – still, he worked with them patiently, and both he and Maya could see some improvement in basic line and dance positioning. It was with the juniors that Maya realized his input was going to be invaluable.

"So, Argentine Tango?" Lucas clapped his hands together as Maya's top junior students, Emma and Steven, stood nervously in front of him, ready for their first private lesson. "What made you choose this dance?"

Steven coughed nervously and Emma took the lead, "Maya chose it for us," she explained, nodding towards Maya, "We've only got this semester left as juniors and she wanted us to do something more mature to hopefully give us inspiration before we become seniors. She wants to feature our work in the showcase at the end of the school year."

"So you've chosen music and started putting the choreography together?"

Maya nodded, "Most of what we've done so far has been placing the elements together in the program, I haven't worked on transitions yet; I was hoping that they'd get a better flavor of the style of dance after working in the studio with you."

"Sounds good," Lucas agreed, "So let's start – do you guys want to show me what you've got so far?"

Maya cued the music on the sound system and the two teens began a walk-through of their program. Lucas was gradually getting used to watching students with no prior dance experience go through the dances. There was no doubt that it could look decidedly odd – but he was getting there with working out what they were doing.

"We can work with them a bit on the hold and putting some more of the attitude in today," Lucas explained, moving closer to her so that he wasn't interrupting Emma and Steven's dance. "She looks like she understands the movement really well but he's quite uncomfortable."

"I'm getting the impression it's a teenage thing," Maya smiled, noticing that just for a second Lucas' own lips curled up almost imperceptibly at the edges.

"Well, by the end of today we'll get any self-consciousness out of his system for good," he declared.

She couldn't help but laugh, "Someone's confident!"

"Watch the master at work, Miss Hart," he winked, stopping the music and heading over to talk to the pair. Was he flirting with her?

Maya perched herself on the table next to the music system and took out her notebook with her plans for what she called "dancing art." She'd always choreographed illustrations using her notebook – it had literally hundreds of sketches which had come to her over the years while listening to pieces of music. There were some costume sketches, poems, and even some doodles...all come to life thanks to her unique way of thinking. Who knew that dancing and music could somehow inspire such beautiful ideas for art? She was excited to finally have her own students to try out her ideas with and Steven and Emma were the first to really capture her imagination. As soon as she'd looked at their artwork and seen the level of maturity in their pieces, she knew that an Argentine Tango was the way to go to take their painting to the next level.

Pencil in hand, she scribbled some notes at the foot of her plan on the directions that Lucas was giving her students; head placement, shoulder line, positioning of the hips in relation to each other. She was interrupted from her train of thought when she realized he was addressing her directly.

"Maya? Can I borrow you a second?" he stood back from Emma and Steven and held out his hand towards her.

"So, Steven, what you need to work on is the idea of being in control of your partner," Maya almost came to an abrupt halt as she realized that Lucas' hand was still extended in her direction, expecting her to take it. She quickly crossed the room and let him take her hand in his and the proverbial electric shock passed through her as soon as she did. She almost winced at the predictability of it all.

He's just a cocky dance coach, you will not fall for him. He's just a cocky dance coach, you will not…

And then he pulled her flush against him; her fragile, nimble body fitting snugly against his tall, muscular frame.

Oh shit…

After another half hour in the dance studio, demonstrating hold and position to Emma and Steven, Maya suggested that they move what they'd been working on onto a canvas. To be quite honest with herself, her classroom provided a welcome relief from the heat which had been building up inside her ever since Lucas had taken her hand and pulled her against him. It had been so easy to fall into his arms and let his hands guide her body where he'd wanted it to be. She'd been mortified at her body's reaction to him; warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach, breath hitching as soon as he'd so much as lain a finger on her. She kept trying to convince herself it was a natural physical reaction – after all, it had been years since a man had so much as touched her. Yet a part of her couldn't help but wonder if the look he'd given her as his hand had splayed possessively across her back had been simply acting the part to demonstrate to their students, or had been a flicker of something more.

It was the first time he'd been inside the school to actually work with the students and she could sense his hesitancy straight away. Now they were in her comfort zone and he was decidedly out of his. She resisted the temptation to offer him a brush and canvas and made the concession to let him observe her practicing her craft of teaching art. Emma and Steven began with quick, long brush strokes and then began mentally running through the program taught by Lucas, and slowly turned their quick brush strokes into something much more beautifully complicated, that even Maya couldn't take her eyes off of their work. They were making great progress, when suddenly Maya felt a vibration from her pocket and realized her phone was ringing. Stepping away from her students she glanced at the caller ID and realized it was Noah's preschool.

"Hello, Miss Hart?"

"Hello, this is she."

"I'm so sorry to bother you at work, but we're trying to contact all our parents. I'm afraid you'll have to come and pick Noah up. We've had a power outage and we're unable to keep the building open; we've contacted the energy company and we're unlikely to get power back for the rest of the day so it's really not safe for us to have all the children with us just now. I'm so sorry but it's our health and safety policy."

"Oh, of course, I'll be there as soon as I can!"

Ending the call, she made her way back over to Lucas who was leaning Emma and Steven to compliment them on their progress.

"Sorry Lucas, do you have a minute?"

"Sure," he replied.

"I'm so sorry but I just had an urgent call and I need to go," she explained. "I won't be long, will you be alright with Emma and Steven?"

"You need to go?" he seemed irritated, "But I've never worked with students off of the dance floor before!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I just… I'll be as quick as I can."

And with that she took off in the direction of the door retrieving her bag and keys on her way out, trying to ignore the look of disapproval on his face. She had no idea why she hadn't mentioned Noah, and her face flamed scarlet at the thought that she'd tried to hide the fact she had a child. Why had she hidden it? She wasn't embarrassed of him; her son was her proudest achievement in the whole world. It was hard to deny though; she was attracted to Lucas, and she knew that the instant he found out she already had a child, his opinion of her would change. That afternoon, for the first time in many years, with his arms around her, she'd felt like the old Maya; like maybe she could be beautiful and desirable to someone again and not like a 27 year old single mother who hadn't been on a date in five years.

She was completely screwed.

She'd arrived at the daycare to find Noah one of the last children to be collected. Instantly he'd flown into her arms and she'd picked him up, whispering softly to soothe him as he cried. She still felt guilt about putting him in daycare when he was used to spending his days at home with her parents, but she knew that they needed to break away from Pennsylvania and her dependency on them so that she could move on with her life.

Straight away she'd started phoning around the few emergency contacts she had in New York; first Mrs. Reid from the apartment next door, who'd been so kind to them ever since they'd moved in. She was apologetic but she was in the city for the day, visiting her sister. Then she tried Rachel, one of the other single moms she'd met at the daycare whilst picking Noah up. But she'd already collected her little girl and was on the way to her mother's to drop her off for the day. There was no one else left; she was going to have to take him back to the high school with her. Which of course meant that she was going to have to face Lucas' face when he realized she wasn't who he'd thought she was.

"Hey Maya! You brought Noah!" Linda, the motherly receptionist greeted them as she entered the school with Noah in hand, carrying his little bag with snacks and some coloring books to keep him entertained.

"Is Lucas still in my classroom with Emma and Steven?"

"Yup, you want me to look after this little guy for a bit so you can get some work done?"

Maya could have kissed her, "You are a lifesaver! Hey Noah, how would you like to go around the desk to sit with Linda? I know she's got some good coloring pens back there in her desk if you're good!"

"Okay," he smiled, and she ruffled his hair, heaving him across the desk to Linda.

"I shouldn't be too long, the kids will break for lunch soon," she smiled, "Thanks again Linda. I owe you big time!"

Dropping her bag in the office, she made her way back down to her room and over to where Lucas stood against the back wall. He turned, realizing she was back, but his reception was decidedly frosty.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be, we were fine." His tone suggested anything but.

"I just…"

"You don't owe me an explanation," he didn't even look at her, instead keeping his gaze out on the students painting, "But if we're going to work together I need you to know that I expect us to both be on the same page. We're professionals and if I'm giving a hundred percent then I expect the same of you. You need to work out whatever scheduling conflicts you have and keep them out of our working time."

Knives seemed to be poking at her throat and hot tears filled her eyes. She'd disappointed him, and made herself look unprofessional. He was obviously the type who was consumed by his work and expected everyone else to be the same. As much as she hated the idea of him thinking she wasn't one hundred percent committed to her work, it would be much worse to witness his change in demeanour when he realized she had a child. Blinking back the tears, she tried to concentrate on what Steven and Emma were doing and refocus her attention on the task at hand, but it was difficult when the waves of hostility coming from him were practically tangible.

The lesson continued with Lucas in charge. She'd pulled herself together enough after a few minutes to be able to start chipping in and although they weren't speaking to each other, they were both at least able to offer constructive advice to their students. They were all deep in conversation, ready to finish the session when the classroom door opened and small footsteps thundered towards them.

"Mommy! Mommy! Linda says I have to ask you if it's okay if I have…"

All four heads whipped round to find Noah running towards them, then tugging at the leg of Maya's pants, looking up at all of them, suddenly rendered speechless with shyness.

"Maya?" Lucas' shock was immediately visible.

Noah peeked out from behind her leg and she reached down to pick him up.

"Lucas, this is my son, Noah."

Emma leaned over and started cooing and fussing the way that only teenage girls could around children. Maya focused on Noah and tried not to look at Lucas. Finally she called the lesson to an end and told Emma and Steven they could call it a day.

"I really have to get home. I'm sorry but daycare called and I have nobody else…"

She started to walk away, Noah still in her arms.

"Maya, wait…" Lucas called

"I'll send you an email about practice times for tomorrow." She continued to back away, "I just… I have to go."