Shocking myself, I realized I was interested. So I felt a zing for this man? It didn’t mean anything. It meant that my warning system wasn’t going off. It meant that I was a person who wanted to dance. It didn’t have to mean anything.
He extended his hand. I bit my lip. I was here to celebrate my hard work. It was one night before an early flight home tomorrow.
“What the hell?” I said unheard in the club.
I slid my hand into his. His hand was not the buttery-soft warmth of an Ivy Leaguer. His hand was calloused and hot. What might it feel like to have those rough palms gripping the tender skin of my hips?
He pulled me only long enough to let me pass, then he let me lead the way to the floor. As I made my way to the other dancers, I felt his gaze on my backside like the vibration of a motorcycle. I risked a glance over my shoulder. His focus returned to mine as he licked his bottom lip.
“Lord, help me,” I mumbled to myself.
Good thing it was just one night and just one dance. This guy would be way too easy to fall for. But what could one dance with a stranger hurt?
Chapter 2
Sanders
When the universe gave me a sign, I listened.
I’d come to Carillo’s to find the team and apologize. I’d planned to tell them how I would make things right. They knew I would. They knew my head hadn’t been right, not since …
No. I wasn’t thinking about that tonight. I was here to start to fix the terrible day I’d caused. The conference, the biggest hospitality convention of the year. The one we’d been preparing for the last three months. The one that could help save our business. And I missed it. I owed Skip a kidney for stepping in last minute.
At least the day had been terrible. Until she danced into my line of sight, a sign that even I was worth saving. Now it was quite possibly about to be the best day of my life. Recently I’d felt like I could do nothing right, but maybe coming here tonight was turning the tide back in my favor. The bouncer Ty had waved me right in as he always did when Skip and I sometimes met the team here.
When I first spotted her about an hour ago, I felt the whole energy of the day finally shift. It was like driving with the emergency brake on and not understanding why I couldn’t move forward. Or what that burning smell was.
She had been dancing alone, as though she didn’t have a care in the world. No, that wasn’t right. She danced as though this moment could put all the cares of the world on hold. She moved with languid confidence. She was fully present. Didn’t care about any of the people around her.
Our eyes had met across the bar for only an instant before she vanished into the crowd. I found her again at the bar, taking off her leather jacket, revealing a beautiful long neck, smooth shoulders, and an array of tattoos, covering her arms and peeking out from under her short skirt and flimsy blouse.
As soon as she reappeared, I couldn’t risk losing her again. There was no thought. My feet carried me until I stood in front of her. It was obvious she didn’t want a dance partner; many men had tried to move up to her but she ignored them. But if I left this bar without at least asking her, it would stick in my brain and I’d regret everything about this day.
Second chances in life were rare. You had to take what you could, when you could. Though it was crazy, watching her dance made me think that she understood that. She was so taken aback when I asked her to dance, I thought for sure she’d say no. And yet here we were. Moving in perfect tandem on the dance floor.
I had no idea what I was doing but I had learned early on that you just had to pretend that you knew and soon you would. Fake it until you make it.
We faced each other and moved without speaking. She was almost as tall as me and I liked that along with her broody fashion-model vibe. The flashing lights would occasionally catch her face, highlighting full, beautiful lips and dark eyes shadowed by long lashes. Her long brown hair with fringe emphasized her intense focus that kept flicking over me, like she didn’t know what to think of me. The more I smiled at her, the more her frown grew. She was so open and free with her movements but at the same time her expression remained distant. I wanted to talk to her and learn everything about her.
We faced each other and danced without touching. I fixed that as the music changed to a tango-style tempo. I pulled her closer, my hands on her hips. She wrapped her arms around my neck, occasionally she’d run a hand down my arms, back, and shoulders, like she couldn’t help herself. Fuck if that didn’t make me feel like a king.
The key to dancing with a woman? Spinning them. If they couldn’t get orientated, then they couldn’t tell you actually had no idea what you were doing. As I twirled her away and back, she tossed her head with a laugh before hiding her face in my neck. Her hair smelled fruity and sweet, a surprising contrast to her dark edges. I liked how she ran her fingers through it as she danced, how she threw
