dance with you,” he said, loving how she smelled. Fresh and bright, and like—he dropped his hands to her hips and pulled her in a little closer—the beach?
“You’re just scared of Mrs. Moberly.”
“She’s the librarian. Has been since before I was born. She used to check Disney books out to me, now she’s checking out my butt.” Something that he wouldn’t mind doing to his new dance partner, so he gripped her hips lower.
“This is the swing, which means that we hold both hands when we dance,” she corrected, but he noticed that she didn’t pull back.
Taking that as a green light, he slid his fingers around her back, stepped into her and, damn, she felt good. Warm and soft beneath his fingers. She must have liked it too, because after a moment, she rested her palms on his chest and leaned into him. She hadn’t done that with Mr. I Carry a Hose.
“After that last dance, I think my swinging days are over. No more wild fishbowl parties for this guy.”
“I would have thought that this was right up your alley,” she said innocently. The effect was ruined by the humor sparkling up at him in her eyes.
He gave her a wry expression that made her laugh, but she didn’t look away.
He liked that about her, the way she always held his gaze. He also liked the way her mouth turned up at the corners and parted slightly when he brushed up against her. So he did it again and, oh yeah , that got to her.
A flush tinted her cheeks, working its way down her elegant neck and right under the deep V of her shirt, which of course drew his full attention because…how could it not? The woman was beautiful.
“Groping aside, I think it was wonderful the way you charmed them. You made their night, Trey.” Her fingers absently played with the fabric of his shirt. “Did you at least have fun?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. The strange thing was, he had.
He’d come here tonight because it sounded a whole hell of a lot better than ordering room service and working in his suite until sunrise. Yet being here with Sara, even when he’d been propositioned by his grandmother’s friends, had somehow been the most fun he’d had since—he looked at her lush mouth—their wine tasting excursion last week. Even though he would have liked more time with her in his arms and to throw Roman out on his ass for touching her. But just seeing her had made the stress from the day disappear.
“I’m glad.” She pressed her lips together as though to stop herself from grinning. “A few of the ladies wanted to know if you’re coming to the ballroom medley class on Saturday.”
He should say, nope, sorry, won’t be around . He never hung around longer than one night. Ever. And Sara was clearly not a one-night-stand kind of girl. A spontaneous kiss and some harmless flirting, sure. But a casual fling?—not the type. Not to mention, his sisters-in-law would kill him if he hooked up with Sara with less-than-honorable intentions.
Then why did he find himself asking, “Are you teaching it?” and when confirmed that, yes indeed, she would be here Saturday night in some other fantasy-inducing outfit, adding, “Then count me in.”
Which was stupid enough in itself. Especially since they weren’t dancing or even swaying. They were just staring at each other in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Only, he couldn’t stop there. No, he had to persist. “Okay, no more stalling, favorite color, favorite hobby, dream date.”
He made sure to put extra emphasis on the last one, hoping to hell she didn’t say anything about a night under the stars.
“Color, red. Hobby, hmm. Let me think.” She paused and bit her lush lower lip, as though thinking long and hard about the next question. Of whose answer he didn’t hear, because he was too busy staring at her work that mouth of hers with her teeth, which only made him want to work that mouth of hers with his tongue.
“And for the date, I don’t know.” Her shoulders rose on a deep
“You’re just scared of Mrs. Moberly.”
“She’s the librarian. Has been since before I was born. She used to check Disney books out to me, now she’s checking out my butt.” Something that he wouldn’t mind doing to his new dance partner, so he gripped her hips lower.
“This is the swing, which means that we hold both hands when we dance,” she corrected, but he noticed that she didn’t pull back.
Taking that as a green light, he slid his fingers around her back, stepped into her and, damn, she felt good. Warm and soft beneath his fingers. She must have liked it too, because after a moment, she rested her palms on his chest and leaned into him. She hadn’t done that with Mr. I Carry a Hose.
“After that last dance, I think my swinging days are over. No more wild fishbowl parties for this guy.”
“I would have thought that this was right up your alley,” she said innocently. The effect was ruined by the humor sparkling up at him in her eyes.
He gave her a wry expression that made her laugh, but she didn’t look away.
He liked that about her, the way she always held his gaze. He also liked the way her mouth turned up at the corners and parted slightly when he brushed up against her. So he did it again and, oh yeah , that got to her.
A flush tinted her cheeks, working its way down her elegant neck and right under the deep V of her shirt, which of course drew his full attention because…how could it not? The woman was beautiful.
“Groping aside, I think it was wonderful the way you charmed them. You made their night, Trey.” Her fingers absently played with the fabric of his shirt. “Did you at least have fun?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. The strange thing was, he had.
He’d come here tonight because it sounded a whole hell of a lot better than ordering room service and working in his suite until sunrise. Yet being here with Sara, even when he’d been propositioned by his grandmother’s friends, had somehow been the most fun he’d had since—he looked at her lush mouth—their wine tasting excursion last week. Even though he would have liked more time with her in his arms and to throw Roman out on his ass for touching her. But just seeing her had made the stress from the day disappear.
“I’m glad.” She pressed her lips together as though to stop herself from grinning. “A few of the ladies wanted to know if you’re coming to the ballroom medley class on Saturday.”
He should say, nope, sorry, won’t be around . He never hung around longer than one night. Ever. And Sara was clearly not a one-night-stand kind of girl. A spontaneous kiss and some harmless flirting, sure. But a casual fling?—not the type. Not to mention, his sisters-in-law would kill him if he hooked up with Sara with less-than-honorable intentions.
Then why did he find himself asking, “Are you teaching it?” and when confirmed that, yes indeed, she would be here Saturday night in some other fantasy-inducing outfit, adding, “Then count me in.”
Which was stupid enough in itself. Especially since they weren’t dancing or even swaying. They were just staring at each other in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Only, he couldn’t stop there. No, he had to persist. “Okay, no more stalling, favorite color, favorite hobby, dream date.”
He made sure to put extra emphasis on the last one, hoping to hell she didn’t say anything about a night under the stars.
“Color, red. Hobby, hmm. Let me think.” She paused and bit her lush lower lip, as though thinking long and hard about the next question. Of whose answer he didn’t hear, because he was too busy staring at her work that mouth of hers with her teeth, which only made him want to work that mouth of hers with his tongue.
“And for the date, I don’t know.” Her shoulders rose on a deep
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