Page 126 of Scars and Crowns

His mouth curves into the smallest smile. "Good."

I look down at the invitation again. Then an entirely different thought occurs to me. "Can you teach me?"

His brows draw together. "Teach you what?"

"The dancing." He stares at me. "You know. The royal salsa."

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he laughs. "Royal salsa?"

"You know what I mean."

"There is no such thing as royal salsa."

"Well, there should be."

He is still smiling. "I don't want to stand in front of everyone and look like I've never danced before."

"You've danced before."

"Not like this."

I put the invitation down. "Teach me."

"Now?"

"Now."

He studies me for a moment, and something soft appears in his expression. Then he holds out his hand. "All right." I stare at it. He gives me a little bow. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

I can't help smiling. "You may." I place my hand in his.

His fingers close around mine, and he draws me toward him. The speaker on his desk fills the room with slow music, soft strings spilling into the quiet. His other hand settles at my waist, warm and steady, and suddenly I'm aware of how close we are.

Much too aware.

"Relax," he murmurs.

"I'm relaxed."

"You've been holding your breath."

I exhale.

He smiles. "Better."

"You're enjoying this."

"Very much."

"Of course you are."

He steps forward. I follow.

"Don't look at your feet."

"I'm going to fall."

"You won't."