He let her go and lifted hischampagne glass.
“Everything.”Shane jerked his hand, pulling her back against him. The full bodycontact made Celeste moan. “Right now, I wanna dance with themost beautiful woman in the room.”
“I guess it couldn’thurt,” she said, “Are you familiar with the jitterbug?”
Shane didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled her behind him and into the other room. Hedeposited her in the center of the dance floor then walked over tothe four-man orchestra playing in the corner.
Curious, Celeste watched himtalk with the piano player. They exchanged a few words and then Shanereached into his breast pocket and deposited a couple of bills intothe bowl sitting on the baby grand. Whatever the amount, it must havebeen satisfactory because the sweating musician grinned from ear toear.
Thedizzying music stopped and the piano player started yelling orders tothe rest of the orchestra. Several people expressed their discontent. However, the moment was fleeting when a melancholy wail erupted fromthe trumpeter’s horn.
“Oh go ahead Daddy!”Someone yelled as the trumpeter held the note.
Expelling the rest of hisdepleted breath, the trumpeter trilled through several melodic notes. He paused mid-note and the rest of the band jumped in. The pianoplayer trickled on the keys, the drummer rasped out a beat with awire brush and the bassist plucked out several chords. The number wassmooth and mellow, perfect music for intimacy.
“This is more likeit,” Shane said, rejoining her. Before she could escape, hehauled her into his arms.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Celestedidn’t protest when he pulled her closer, fitting them togetherlike spoons in a kitchen drawer. Blushing, she focused her attentionon thecouples around them. Unfortunately, their impassioned expressionsand grinding bodies did little to help her current predicament, onlycaused it to grow and expand like a wildfire.
Why fight it? It wasn’tlike she was a virgin. That ship sailed long ago and docked atseveral ports multiple times. Accepting the inevitable and loving thesway of his hips, Celeste laid her head against his chest and closedher eyes.
“This is nice, no?”
Celeste nodded. “Reallynice,” she said, relaxing both her body and her guard. Shejust needed to enjoy the moment and stop worrying about theconsequences.
The more she relaxed, themore she became attuned to his body, his rhythm and she soon marveled at how light he was on his feet. Must be his training as aboxer.
“Have plans thisweekend?”
In her element, she decidedto hedge. “Why?” she asked.
“Don’tbe coy.” His arm tightened around her waist. “You alreadyhave me wrapped around your finger. You don’t have to playgames.”
Embarrassed yet delighted byhis admission, Celeste ducked her head.
“Do you have plans?”he asked again.
Deciding to play itstraight, she shook her head.
“Ipicked up tickets for Mulatto.It’s run—”
Before he could continue,Celeste cut in. “At the Post Modern theatre?” she gushed,unable to hide her excitement. “It’s a revival of theoriginal that ran on Broadway.”
In theface of her enthusiasm, he chuckled. Not caring a whit, Celestecontinued, “My old man died in a fine big house/My ma died in ashack/I wonder where I’m going to die/Being neither white norblack.”
“Soyou’re familiar with Hughes’ works?”
“Anyone who’scolo…I…I mean anyone familiar with the HarlemRenaissance knows of Langston Hughes.” Suddenly filled with aton of questions, Celeste glanced up at him. “How were youable to get tickets? I heard they’ve been sold out for weeks.”
“Stop worrying yourpretty little head,” Shane said. “I got connections.”
Celeste pursed her lips. Apart of her was pleased by his compliment, the other half was miffedthat he’d been able to score the most sought after ticket inHarlem.
Justyesterday, she and Trudy had tried to swindle tickets from RobertDillard, one of the show’s executive producers. But they’dcome up empty handed and ears burning. Dillard hadn’t likedbeing the butt of Trudy’s onstage jokes. So muchso, he’d regaled them with a salty tirade that lasted almostten minutes.
“So what’d yousay?” Shane squeezed her hand, pulling her out of yesterday’santics.
Celeste didn’t thinktwice. “What time should I expect you?”
Beforeshe could finish, Shane grinned. Although his expression could’vebeen misconstrued for smugness, it didn’t detract from his goodlooks only added to them. Celeste cleared her throat because herheart was sitting in it.
“Six o’clocksharp,” he said, “Unless that’s too early for you.”
Still unable to speak forthe lump in her throat, Celeste shook her head. What the heck waswrong with her? She was acting like a wallflower not the femmefatale her peers made her out to be.
“Is six no good? Or isit too early for you?”
“Sixis good,” she choked out. Feeling herself falling in much toodeep for her liking, she looked for an exit. “Since that’ssettled, I’d better beat it.” Celeste cringed. Whenevershe was nervous she used the corniest vocabulary. “I’msure my cousin is beating the carpet looking for me.”
Instead of letting her go,Shane brought her closer. “Do you have to leave so soon?”
Grasping onto the lastvestiges of her crumbling composure, Celeste took a deep breath. Unfortunately, the combination of patchouli, starched linen and hisunique manly scent filled her nostrils, intoxicating her.
“I…I…guessI can stay for one more dance.”
Light onhis feet, Shane maneuvered them into the center of the dance floor. The amount of oxygen and space was quickly swallowed up by the closeproximity of other couples, whose bodies glistened and throbbed withecstasy as they strained to get closer to one another. The press ofShane’s body into hers and the antics of the other couples madeher think of rumpled sheets and cigarettes.
“I heard you weretrouble.”
Startled by his admission,Celeste stiffened. “Then why do you want to keep on seeingme?”
He leaned down until hislips lined up with her ear. Celeste gulped as she derived thewickedest pleasure from the subtle brush of his
