“No wonder you couldn’t find a partner,” he said. “They all must have known you can’t dance.”
They were dancing the fox-trot, and she was excellent at the fox-trot. “Put me down.”
“Why, so you can prove you can’t dance?”
“No!” She glared at him. “So I can show you how to dance.”
He laughed. “I know how to dance.”
She was going to prove who knew how to dance. Her. “No, you don’t, you’re supposed to be bending at the knees.”
“Like this?” Grinning, he bent his knees until her heels barely tapped the floor, then straightened upright again.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, put me down!”
He lowered her to the floor but kept his hands on her waist. She kept hers on his shoulders and, determined to prove him wrong, took two steps back, slid one step to the side, bent her knees, and straightened. He’d matched each of her steps, nearly perfectly, but still, she said, “That’s how you do it.”
“Oh, so you mean like this.”
He led her through the steps so quickly, and so perfectly, she nearly forgot she didn’t want to dance with him.
Nearly.
“Somewhat,” she said.
“Let’s try this, then.”
Once again, his steps were quick, smooth, and in perfect time with the beat. He then released her waist, grasped her hand, twirled her around beneath their clasped hands, and pulled her back into his arms so swiftly, it almost made her dizzy.
“And?”
“And what?” she said, pretending not to know.
“How am I doing now?” He twirled her again. “Or do I need more instructions?”
She huffed out a breath. “You are doing fine.”
“Just fine?”
She was not going to compliment him on his dancing. Absolutely not. Even if he was one of the best partners she’d ever had. She didn’t need to concentrate on the steps at all; they were gliding around the floor as if they danced together every day.
While continuing to glide her through the steps, he asked, “How long have you been in Los Angeles?”
“My entire life,” she answered. “What are you doing here?”
“Working.”
“Do you live in Seattle?” She’d dreamed of going back to Seattle to look for him, just because he’d made her so angry by kissing her and then walking off, she’d wanted to... Oh, she wasn’t even sure what she’d wanted to do to him, but no one had ever made her so angry. Not even the way her father kept them locked up at home. Him, this kissing bandit had made her believe that maybe her father was right. That he had to choose husbands for them because most men couldn’t be trusted.
“No, I was only in Seattle for a short time three years ago. Working.” He spun them around at the edge of the floor and started back in the other direction. “What were you doing there three years ago?”
“Visiting family.” She wasn’t interested in learning more about him, but talking kept her mind busy on something other than how handsome he was. Especially when he smiled. That nearly took her breath away. “What type of work do you do?”
“This and that,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat. Could he know her father? “Construction?”
“No. I’m not very good with a hammer and nail.”
Thank goodness. She’d always feared they might run into one of the men who worked on the crews building houses in Hollywoodland. She and her sisters were never allowed near the building sites until the homes were done and the crews all gone, but she still worried.
The music ended and she questioned escaping his hold and leaving the Rooster’s Nest altogether, but Patsy was dancing and Jane was helping the piano player, and the rule was they all left together.
He was looking at her, as if waiting for her to decide.
She lifted her chin and gave a small nod as the music started up again.
They were off, with him leading them around the dance floor all over again.
The bright overhead lights with their stained-glass lampshades made his blue eyes stand out even more. They truly were unique. Captivating.
She pulled her eyes off them because she certainly didn’t want to be captivated. Not by him or any other man.
He was tall, so tall she couldn’t see over his shoulders—very broad and firm shoulders. She eased backward, trying to put more space between their bodies, but his hold on her waist tightened, keeping her right where she was at, close to him. Very close.
She’d danced with many men since she and her sisters started sneaking out, and she’d never been this aware of a single one of them. Her heart was thudding, her insides tingling, and she didn’t dare look at his face again, because every time she did, she remembered the way they’d looked at each other for a moment, just before he’d kissed her.
She remembered kissing him back, too. That was another part that had made her so mad. It had probably been because she’d been scared of the water rising. The water he’d carried her out of. She’d been happy, so happy to be on dry ground, she would have kissed it.
“We are going to have to do better than this if we want to win,” he said, and twirled her about.
The next thing she knew, they were dancing past the other couples, to the edge of the dance floor, where he dipped her, twirled her, and then they were heading back to the other end of the parquet floor to do it all over again.
Between the fast music, the gaiety of the other dancers and onlookers, and his gracefulness, she couldn’t help but be drawn in, and was soon challenging his every move with one of her own, including kicking a leg high in the air each time he dipped her.
The onlookers were cheering loudly when that song ended and the next one began. She let out a gleeful laugh, recognizing the fun, fast-paced tempo. This was a favorite of hers, because she didn’t need to even hold her partner’s hands. Not only his, but any man she danced with.
