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“What are you sorry for?”
“Not wanting to stay at the party you planned.”
Work hadn’t called. He just didn’t want to be there. Abby bit the inside of her cheek, studying him.
As his gaze skimmed over the Christmas decorations Abby had thought gave just the right touch, he winced. “If it were any other kind of party…”
Than Christmas. He didn’t have to say the words.
There was something about the way his eyes darkened, the way his body tensed, that had her squeezing his hand. She didn’t want to leave, but neither did she like the tortured expression in his eyes. “It’s okay. We can go whenever you like. Most of the good stuff has already taken place.”
“Good stuff?” He focused on her face as if using her as a focal point to stay grounded.
“When the administrators acknowledged all the hard work everyone does every day of the year, when they acknowledged what a great staff we have, and, of course, when they gave away the gifts donated by local businesses.”
His expression not changing, he studied her. “Sorry you didn’t win.”
“That’s okay.” She smiled up at him, feeling petite despite her four-inch heels.
“You look like a winner.” His gaze raked over her Santa Claus red dress, pausing at where the waist dipped in before flaring out just above the knees.
“Thank you.” She’d seen the dress, added the white wrap and the heels that were much more daring than anything she usually wore but couldn’t resist, and known she had the perfect Christmas party ensemble.
She’d even splurged on new underwear. Not the granny whites like she usually wore. No, the tiny silk and lace garments beneath her dress kept up her Christmas red theme and made her feel less like that broken-down old toy and more like the shiny new one waiting to be played with under the Christmas tree.
Just in case.
As crazy as it was, she definitely wanted to relive all the things she and Dirk had done together, all the ways he’d touched her, kissed her, loved her body. She sighed in remembrance of the ways his hands and mouth had given her pleasure. So, so much pleasure.
“What are you thinking about?”
She glanced up, curious at the slight rasp to his voice. When her gaze collided with his, heat flushed her cheeks. She might not be able to read his mind, but he’d certainly read hers. He knew.
Knew exactly what she’d been thinking. Remembering.
It turned him on. Maybe as much as she was turned on. Could that be possible? Could he really feel the same?
“Earlier, when you asked, I promised to dance before the evening ended.” His gaze never shifted from hers. “With you by my side, staying doesn’t feel quite so impossible. Dance with me, Abby, then we’ll go.”
He was really going to dance with her? She’d already resigned herself that unless she danced with someone else, she wouldn’t be making her way onto the dance floor.
Smiling, she let him lead her out. He took her into his arms and they swayed to the music in gentle rhythm.
“You’re a good dancer.” She’d imagined he hadn’t wanted to dance because perhaps he couldn’t. She should have known better about that, too. Dirk Kelley was a man of many talents.
“You sound surprised.” He almost smiled. “It’s been a while,” he admitted, endearing himself even further, “but I guess it’s like riding a bicycle. One of those things you don’t really forget how to do.”
“Why has it been a while since you’ve danced?”
Instantly, his arms stiffened.
“I just don’t dance any more,” he finally said.
Which wasn’t really much of an answer and left her with a dozen questions he obviously wouldn’t answer. Resisting a sigh, Abby laid her cheek against his chest, soaking in the warmth of being in his arms.
They danced, slow and in sync, their bodies touching, brushing against each other, his body heat melting her like a marshmallow in hot chocolate. Dirk made no motion to leave when one song turned into another.
“You smell good.” He nuzzled her lightly, brushing his cheek against her hair. “Like fresh berries and cinnamon.”
