He said something with the tilt of his head and a soft smile on his lips. I blinked away, wondering if my mouth had been hanging open catching flies as I took him in.
“What?” I yelled and pointed to my ear. The band had just started back up.
His smile grew to expose that two front teeth protruded just a little. It was a disarmingly charming flaw, like a puppy with just one floppy ear. His gaze moved over the exposed skin of my neck and shoulders under my tank top, seemingly studying the tattoos.
I wasn’t knocking my edgy looks, but I typically didn’t attract men who could have been plucked straight from an Ivy League fraternity mixer. At least the collar of his black button-up wasn’t popped. And he wore nice sneakers and jeans, not boat shoes and pink shorts. Okay, so he wasn’t preppy per se, but squeaky? Like he’d hurt my teeth to take a bite out of. He didn’t even have a beard, for crying out loud. Not to box this guy in, but guys like this did not go for girls like me. Then again, sometimes there were the guys who liked to “slum it” with the easy small-town girls from Green Valley.
Mr. Eye Contact leaned closer. He smelled like a shower after a hard workout. It was like the cleansing smell of a spring morning after working all night at the Dragon Bar. My jaw was clenched tight, thinking about taking a bite out of him again.
“Dance?” he asked. His voice had a rich and deep timbre that sent a tiny shudder down my spine.
His confidence was sexy without being overwhelming. He tucked his hands deep into his pockets and waited patiently as I took him in, studying him head to toe. There was no pressure in his question. I suspected if I said no, he’d walk away without another word. I told myself I wanted to dance alone but suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Wouldn’t it be nice to have hands on me? Wouldn’t it be an escape to just be a woman dancing with a man to good music?
Shocking myself, I realized I was interested. So I felt a zing for this man? It didn’t mean anything. It meant that my warning system wasn’t going off. It meant that I was a person who wanted to dance. It didn’t have tomeananything.
He extended his hand. I bit my lip. I was here to celebrate my hard work. It was one night before an early flight home tomorrow.
“What the hell?” I said unheard in the club.
I slid my hand into his. His hand was not the buttery-soft warmth of an Ivy Leaguer. His hand was calloused and hot. What might it feel like to have those rough palms gripping the tender skin of my hips?
He pulled me only long enough to let me pass, then he let me lead the way to the floor. As I made my way to the other dancers, I felt his gaze on my backside like the vibration of a motorcycle. I risked a glance over my shoulder. His focus returned to mine as he licked his bottom lip.
“Lord, help me,” I mumbled to myself.
Good thing it was just one night and just one dance. This guy would be way too easy to fall for. But what could one dance with a stranger hurt?
Chapter 2
Sanders
When the universe gave me a sign, I listened.
I’d come to Carillo’s to find the team and apologize. I’d planned to tell them how I would make things right. They knew I would. They knew my head hadn’t been right, not since …
No. I wasn’t thinking about that tonight. I was here to start to fix the terrible day I’d caused. The conference, the biggest hospitality convention of the year. The one we’d been preparing for the last three months. The one that could help save our business. And I missed it. I owed Skip a kidney for stepping in last minute.
At least the dayhadbeen terrible. Until she danced into my line of sight, a sign that even I was worth saving. Now it was quite possibly about to be the best day of my life. Recently I’d felt like I could do nothing right, but maybe coming here tonight was turning the tide back in my favor. The bouncer Ty had waved me right in as he always did when Skip and I sometimes met the team here.
When I first spotted her about an hour ago, I felt the whole energy of the day finally shift. It was like driving with the emergency brake on and not understanding why I couldn’t move forward. Or what that burning smell was.
She had been dancing alone, as though she didn’t have a care in the world. No, that wasn’t right. She danced as though this moment could put all the cares of the world on hold. She moved with languid confidence. She was fully present. Didn’t care about any of the people around her.
Our eyes had met across the bar for only an instant before she vanished into the crowd. I found her again at the bar, taking off her leather jacket, revealing a beautiful long neck, smooth shoulders, and an array of tattoos, covering her arms and peeking out from under her short skirt and flimsy blouse.
As soon as she reappeared, I couldn’t risk losing her again. There was no thought. My feet carried me until I stood in front of her. It was obvious she didn’t want a dance partner; many men had tried to move up to her but she ignored them. But if I left this bar without at least asking her, it would stick in my brain and I’d regret everything about this day.
Second chances in life were rare. You had to take what you could, when you could. Though it was crazy, watching her dance made me think that she understood that. She was so taken aback when I asked her to dance, I thought for sure she’d say no. And yet here we were. Moving in perfect tandem on the dance floor.
I had no idea what I was doing but I had learned early on that you just had to pretend that you knew and soon you would. Fake it until you make it.
We faced each other and moved without speaking. She was almost as tall as me and I liked that along with her broody fashion-model vibe. The flashing lights would occasionally catch her face, highlighting full, beautiful lips and dark eyes shadowed by long lashes. Her long brown hair with fringe emphasized her intense focus that kept flicking over me, like she didn’t know what to think of me. The more I smiled at her, the more her frown grew. She was so open and free with her movements but at the same time her expression remained distant. I wanted to talk to her and learn everything about her.
We faced each other and danced without touching. I fixed that as the music changed to a tango-style tempo. I pulled her closer, my hands on her hips. She wrapped her arms around my neck, occasionally she’d run a hand down my arms, back, and shoulders, like she couldn’t help herself. Fuck if that didn’t make me feel like a king.
The key to dancing with a woman? Spinning them. If they couldn’t get orientated, then they couldn’t tell you actually had no idea what you were doing. As I twirled her away and back, she tossed her head with a laugh before hiding her face in my neck. Her hair smelled fruity and sweet, a surprising contrast to her dark edges. I liked how she ran her fingers through it as she danced, how she threw it around her as she spun. It was as part of her dancing as her hips were.
I brought her back so I could keep studying her face. I couldn’t get enough of it. She was gorgeous and hypnotic. Pouty and dark, and completely intriguing. My arm was wrapped tight around her core, her breasts pushed up against me as the tempo changed to more of a samba. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her scent engulfed me.
