really are perfect together.”
He’d ignored the mumbo jumbo he didn’t understand in favor of imagining Izzy’s sexy legs in killer spikes and how they’d fit together if they were doing a little horizontal tangoing. It would be an ideal matchup.
“Yes, he fit best in the black pair you suggested. Nice eye, Ms. Buchanan.”
“You’ve been such a tremendous help, Arthur. I can never thank you enough.” She strode right over to the man, wrapping him in a hug. This time Razor detected the slight hitch in her movement. Son of a bitch, he should have picked it up sooner even though she covered it well.
The merchant smiled at her as he returned the embrace with an awkward pat on her back. Good thing for Arthur it seemed entirely platonic.
“No thanks necessary. Could I ask one thing…?”
“Of course,” she separated to smile up at Arthur.
“Can I see you dance?”
“What? Right now? Right here?” Razor panicked at the thought of performing for someone.
“You are going to have to do this in front of an audience tomorrow night. Plus, we can see how the shoes fit without risking another trip to the mall. We don’t have time to waste.”
Damn her sound logic.
“We also don’t have our music.”
Arthur overruled Razor’s last-ditch objection with a wink. “Who do you think provided all the selections?”
He gestured to a CD rack with built-in headphones in the far corner of the floor then pressed a button on the store’s overhead system behind the counter. “Here it comes.”
Isabella waited for Razor in the middle of the dance floor, an adorable smirk highlighting her plump lips. “I triple -dog-dare you.”
“Well, shit. I can’t keep my man card if I pass up a triple-dog-dare.” He laughed as he crossed toward her. Funny, the ridiculous shoes actually gripped decent on the polished hardwood. For the hell of it, he stopped short, executing his best imitation of a bow from some old black and white movie he’d watched when he had trouble sleeping several weeks ago. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the sappy flick as much as he had.
Hell if she didn’t curtsey in return as though she’d done it a million times before. Probably had. He shook his head as he held out his arms. Isabella came to him, fitting gracefully into the frame he made for her. With Arthur looking on, Razor felt honor-bound to perform well. Izzy didn’t need a bad rap as an instructor.
Neither one of them could afford more trash-talk at this point.
The opening strains of music surrounded them. They moved together. After no more than five seconds, he’d forgotten all about technique, their miniature audience and the fact that he probably looked like a poser. He gazed into Isabella’s eyes, relishing the way her slender body moved against him.
Razor imagined what it would have been like to have lived in simpler times. What if he had been born privileged and could claim any woman he wanted? This woman. He danced to impress her, to steal a forbidden touch here or a handful of curves there.
When they reached the end of the choreography, he dipped her—as they’d practiced—into a drastic bend, which highlighted her flexibility over his tensed bicep. Only this time, he didn’t stop there.
Razor planted his hand on her shoulder while the other lifted to support her head. He ran his palm from the crown of her head backward, gathering the silky fall of her platinum hair. The soft waves teased the sensitive skin between his fingers as he descended while pulling her tighter to his chest.
Though it took an instant, time seemed to slow to a crawl. She watched him come nearer with a dazed smile on her beautiful face. Before he knew what he intended, he tasted the strawberry gloss on her full, slightly spread lips.
One sample could never suffice. He squeezed her close, hardly registering her fingers clenching on his back and around his neck. Instead, he focused on her sweet hesitation, as though unsure of how to kiss him in
He’d ignored the mumbo jumbo he didn’t understand in favor of imagining Izzy’s sexy legs in killer spikes and how they’d fit together if they were doing a little horizontal tangoing. It would be an ideal matchup.
“Yes, he fit best in the black pair you suggested. Nice eye, Ms. Buchanan.”
“You’ve been such a tremendous help, Arthur. I can never thank you enough.” She strode right over to the man, wrapping him in a hug. This time Razor detected the slight hitch in her movement. Son of a bitch, he should have picked it up sooner even though she covered it well.
The merchant smiled at her as he returned the embrace with an awkward pat on her back. Good thing for Arthur it seemed entirely platonic.
“No thanks necessary. Could I ask one thing…?”
“Of course,” she separated to smile up at Arthur.
“Can I see you dance?”
“What? Right now? Right here?” Razor panicked at the thought of performing for someone.
“You are going to have to do this in front of an audience tomorrow night. Plus, we can see how the shoes fit without risking another trip to the mall. We don’t have time to waste.”
Damn her sound logic.
“We also don’t have our music.”
Arthur overruled Razor’s last-ditch objection with a wink. “Who do you think provided all the selections?”
He gestured to a CD rack with built-in headphones in the far corner of the floor then pressed a button on the store’s overhead system behind the counter. “Here it comes.”
Isabella waited for Razor in the middle of the dance floor, an adorable smirk highlighting her plump lips. “I triple -dog-dare you.”
“Well, shit. I can’t keep my man card if I pass up a triple-dog-dare.” He laughed as he crossed toward her. Funny, the ridiculous shoes actually gripped decent on the polished hardwood. For the hell of it, he stopped short, executing his best imitation of a bow from some old black and white movie he’d watched when he had trouble sleeping several weeks ago. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the sappy flick as much as he had.
Hell if she didn’t curtsey in return as though she’d done it a million times before. Probably had. He shook his head as he held out his arms. Isabella came to him, fitting gracefully into the frame he made for her. With Arthur looking on, Razor felt honor-bound to perform well. Izzy didn’t need a bad rap as an instructor.
Neither one of them could afford more trash-talk at this point.
The opening strains of music surrounded them. They moved together. After no more than five seconds, he’d forgotten all about technique, their miniature audience and the fact that he probably looked like a poser. He gazed into Isabella’s eyes, relishing the way her slender body moved against him.
Razor imagined what it would have been like to have lived in simpler times. What if he had been born privileged and could claim any woman he wanted? This woman. He danced to impress her, to steal a forbidden touch here or a handful of curves there.
When they reached the end of the choreography, he dipped her—as they’d practiced—into a drastic bend, which highlighted her flexibility over his tensed bicep. Only this time, he didn’t stop there.
Razor planted his hand on her shoulder while the other lifted to support her head. He ran his palm from the crown of her head backward, gathering the silky fall of her platinum hair. The soft waves teased the sensitive skin between his fingers as he descended while pulling her tighter to his chest.
Though it took an instant, time seemed to slow to a crawl. She watched him come nearer with a dazed smile on her beautiful face. Before he knew what he intended, he tasted the strawberry gloss on her full, slightly spread lips.
One sample could never suffice. He squeezed her close, hardly registering her fingers clenching on his back and around his neck. Instead, he focused on her sweet hesitation, as though unsure of how to kiss him in
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