Page 18 of Every Time We Touch

Temporarily speechless.

It’s true, however. All I can do after seeing that video is watch it again and again and again. Clancy leads the other woman, who is almost as gorgeous as her, around the floor as though she has many more wicked plans with her after the dance has ended. The brand-new tango student in me wants to study the steps, but all I can see is Clancy’s face—all devoted intention and off-the-charts sex appeal—as she has her way on the dance floor with the other woman. And I was worried I was flirting earlier with my lame comment?

Clancy texts back.

Let’s hope you will have regained the power of speech by Wednesday

This is so unfair, I want to reply, but don’t, of course. I don’t have anything impressive to send her in return. Not even a witty response.

Chapter 10

Clancy

For our next lesson, Jen’s still wearing leggings, but no longer that long-sleeved top she showed up in last time. She’s in a tank top showing off some nicely toned biceps.

I need her to sign some forms in my office first. She reads them carefully in a way few people actually do. As I watch her, a smile stretches on my lips. She’s just one of those people whose energy I like being around. She’s fun and smart but also a little uptight, which makes her easy to tease—like when I sent her that video of me dancing the tango last Sunday. How I would have loved being a fly on the wall at her house when she saw that. I bet that pale skin of hers turned an impressive shade of crimson.

“Are you more a Lana Lynch rock chick or an Isabel Adler drama girl?” I ask, because I can’t help myself. A giddiness I can’t really explain bubbles inside me. For some reason, Jennifer St James has that effect on me.

Jennifer puts the pen down and straightens her spine. “Why choose?” she says, looking me dead in the eye. She’s done that several times now. It makes me like her even more.

“True enough.” I grin at her.

“That clip was insane, by the way.” Jen leans her hip against the side of my desk. “I’m not sure I’ve recovered yet.”

“You can speak again.” I almost tap my fingertips against her upper leg, but stop myself just in time. “How are the legs?”

“Ready for whatever you have in store for them.”

“Let’s do it.” On the way to the dance floor, I don’t stop myself from briefly touching my hand to her shoulder. “Let’s begin with repeating what you learned last time, but very slowly, to warm up the muscles.”

Before Jen arrived, I cued up some music we could possibly dance to later—to introduce her to that singular sensation of moving to the beat of a song—and “I Should Have Kissed You” is first in line. But as we take position on the floor, her hand on my shoulder and mine in the small of her back, I suddenly realize that might be a bit too forward—naughty even. Jen seems to bring that out in me.

Just as it was rather naughty sending her that clip of me dancing with another woman to that particular song. It’s easy enough to convince myself that, as her teacher, I was just doing my job of inspiring her, but I mainly use that clip for other purposes. It has sealed the deal with quite a few women I was chatting with on the apps over the years. Perhaps I’ve been too untoward with Eric’s daughter—which, more often than not, I prefer to forget Jennifer is.

On the next left, I actually step on Jennifer’s toe.

“Shoot. I’m sorry,” she says, because she thinks it’s her fault.

“My bad.” I let go of her and bring a hand to my chest. “I was distracted. I’m sorry.”

“I guess you’re human, too.” Her grin is to die for.

“I was just wondering about that clip I sent you… it was probably a bit, um, much. I’m sorry. It was inappropriate. I see that now.” I make sure to not give her some sort of half-hearted I’m-sorry-if-it-made-you-feel-that-way apology.

“‘Much’ is one way of describing it,” Jennifer says. “It was unexpected, but only if you choose to look at it in a certain way.”

“What way would that be?” I put my hands on my hips, already too amused again—but is there even such a thing?

“After I recovered from seeing that dance floor burn like a freshly lit fire,” Jen says, “I chose to look at it as pure motivation.” That grin is back. “For a novice like me, to see two people do that with their bodies was definitely… motivational.”

“How many times did you, um, motivate yourself?” Is this flirting? Deep down, I know it is, even though she’s the last person I should be flirting with.

Jennifer laughs gently and I can’t help but chuckle along. “Plenty of times to show up here highly motivated,” she says.

“Let’s get back to it.” I try to get into teacher mode, but, from the get-go, I haven’t really felt like just Jennifer’s teacher.

“How else am I ever going to be able to dance with you like that?” Jen says, which very much sounds like flirting back.