New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

It took him a moment to adjust to the lighting, and then he wished he hadn’t. On the dance floor, in the arms of a friend he suddenly wanted to slug, was Becca. She had on one of those black, shimmery, mouth-watering, body-hugging dresses he had been drooling over just yesterday from her catalogue. Just like in the glossy pages, the spaghetti straps and scooped neck, snug body and short skirt were all systematically designed to drive a man insane with wanting.

Dennis had one hand on the small of her back, nudging her close so that there wasn’t a spec of light between their two bodies. His other hand held Becca’s as they gyrated to the music.

Becca’s face was flushed with her smile of concentration, and she nodded at whatever little secret Dennis was whispering in her ear.

Rejecting a server’s offer of a drink, Kent strode directly onto the dance floor. The music changed tempo, from lightning fast to soft and slow. Great, he thought with a groan. Make-out music.

Becca was a sitting duck.

Over her head, Dennis saw Kent coming, and winked.

With what Kent felt was a remarkable calm, he pushed his way between them.

“Kent!” Becca blinked at him in surprise. “Hello.”

“Move it,” Kent suggested to Dennis.

“You’re cutting in?” Dennis kept his hold on Becca. “But you hate to dance.”

“I. Love. It.”

Dennis laughed and shook his head. “No, you don’t. Remember last month? We took those blond twins out? Tish crushed your toe beneath her five inch heels, and you said-”

“I remember what I said,” he grated. “Now get your hands off Becca’s ass and go somewhere. Preferably somewhere far away before I decide I don’t want to pay you anymore.”

Dennis grinned. “You can’t fire me because I’m dancing with Becca.”

“How about for sexually harassing her?”

Dennis’s jaw dropped for a second, then he laughed before turning to Becca. “Are you being harassed, Becca? Sexually?”

She divided a curious glance between the two men and chewed on her full, lower lip.

A full lower lip that had on the most tasty-looking lip gloss Kent had ever seen.

“I’ve never been sexually harassed in my life,” Becca said quite seriously.

Dennis shot Kent a wide, guileless smile. “See? She’s fine. I’m fine. Now why don’t you go somewhere and be fine, too?”

Kent knew he should back off and let Becca make her own mistakes. In fact, that’s what he was going to do right this minute, and he turned away but not before he saw the flash of uncertainty on Becca’s face. Sighing, because he couldn’t very well leave now could he, and he held out a hand to her. “Do you want to dance with me?”

In a move that was both touching and terrifying, she gave him her hand in return. “Yes,” she said without hesitation, then blinked, horrified, as she turned to Dennis. “I- Oh, Dennis, I-”

With typical nonchalance, Dennis smiled and shrugged it off. “Go ahead. Dance with him. But watch out for your pretty toes, he’s got two left feet.”

“I’m sorry,” Becca whispered.

Dennis shook his head. “Don’t be, it’s just one dance.” He looked at Kent and leaned close enough so that with all the music and other conversations going on, Becca couldn’t hear him. “You’ve got it bad.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kent said.

“Don’t I?”

Kent grabbed Becca’s hand, moving her farther in on the dance floor. The music had changed again, and the tempo raced as fast as his thoughts.

Over the loud, drumming beat Becca asked, “What was that about?”

It was about rescuing you, dammit. “You looked like maybe you needed a break.”

Her eyes, the ones that had lit up at the sight of him only a few moments before, suddenly cooled ten degrees. “I look tired to you?”

No, not quite. She practically vibrated with life. Her hair, the shimmering color of a fawn’s coat, shone beneath the sparkling lights. Her skin glowed. There was just something about her, something that drew him, and it bewildered him because he didn’t want to feel this way.

Around them, people were dancing, swirling and rocking to the licentious, happy music. Becca stood there, a frown growing on her previously excited face.

Oh perfect, now he’d stolen her fun. “Becca-” He reached for her, but she backed away.

“No, don’t,” she said in an overly polite voice, looking like an infuriated goddess. Her dress glimmered, her lipstick beckoned him, and he wanted, quite recklessly, to nibble it right off.

“Let me get this straight,” she said over the throbbing beat. “We’re friends.”

“Yes,” he said with relief. One of them had to remember that.

“But earlier, when I touched you, you freaked.”

“Well actually, freaked is a pretty strong word.”

Her eyes glowed with some hidden emotion that made him nervous. “And you hate to dance, but for some reason you’re here, on the same day and at the same time I am.” Her foot tapped to the beat of her impatience. “Would this be a coincidence?”

“Not exactly.”

A man bumped into her from behind. She smiled when he apologized, then became serious again when she turned back to Kent. “Okay, look. I know you think this is silly, this whole new me thing.” She glanced down at her dress and shook her head. “And it’s really none of your business, but I turned thirty this year.”

Thirty had never looked so good. “You know I already know that. What different does that make?”

“Lots…I want more for myself. I want-”

“Adventure,” he said with her and she gave him a sad smile.

Again the music changed, deepened. Slowed. Helpless against the strange pull of it, and her, he stepped close, but she held up a hand to stop him. “You need to stop doing this,” she said quietly. “Stop following me, trying to save me from myself. It’s going to give me the wrong idea.”

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “But I can’t get that ‘wrong idea’ out of my head.” He opened his eyes again to discover he was talking to air.

5

BECCA STRODE DIRECTLY BACK to her table. Dennis was nowhere in sight. Still, she grabbed her purse and whirled, prepared to walk home if necessary.

But she was blocked, by none other than the man who had the singular ability to drive her crazy with the conflicting emotions of need and frustration.

Kent took in the sight of her purse slung over her shoulder and winced, even as he reached for her, putting his big, warm hands on her arms.

Now was not a particularly great time for her to feel that shock of reaction to his touch, a shock that shook her to the core.

He, too, went completely still.

A waitress stopped next to them with a tray of drinks, but when neither of them moved, she sighed with irritation and moved on.

Becca’s heart raced unnaturally. Kent was looking at her, really looking at her, with a slightly confused yet unmistakably desirous expression.

“More static?” she asked sarcastically.

“Or something,” he murmured, watching his hands on her with an intensity that made her want to melt boneless to the floor. “You look incredible.”