Chapter Eleven

Dancing with Rafael again was amazing. It was as if time hadn’t passed, and the routine that had captured first place for them a decade ago came back to her easily.

Before they had begun to dance, Rafael waved to a petite woman across the room. A petite woman with a very large baby bump.

“That’s my wife,” he explained. “And our son is due any day now. I didn’t want to come tonight, but Melissa said if I didn’t get her out of the house she was going to do bodily harm to me.”

The Rafael she had known in her teen years had been brash and wild. He was two years older, and more than once their coach had needed to discipline him for showing up late or skipping practice altogether.

“You’re going to be a father? The man who glued my practice shoes to the bottom of my locker?”

Rafael let his head drop forward, and he shook it from side to side. “Don’t remind me. And in case I never apologized, let me do that now. You have no idea how much I worry that my son will turn out like I was back then.”

Before they were able to continue the conversation, the music began and Rafael pulled her into a close embrace. The familiar tune drew her into the mood of the dance, and before she knew it, she lay across Rafael’s outstretched arm and the dance was over.

When she glanced around her, she saw they were alone on the dance floor. The crowd applauded, and when she let her gaze wander to Rafael’s wife, she was on her feet, too. One hand rubbed her swollen belly and the other was in a thumbs-up position. The look on her face left no doubt she was both proud of her husband and madly in love with him.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said, leading her back toward her table. “Melissa doesn’t dance, but is gracious enough to come here with me from time to time so I can get my dance fix. But once the baby arrives, dancing will be replaced by diaper duty and two o’clock feedings.”

Amara squeezed his arm. “And that tells me you’re going to be a terrific father. Please let me know when the baby arrives, okay? I’d love to visit.” She rattled off her email address.

“Your boyfriend won’t be jealous?” He motioned in Ryan’s direction. “You two make a cute couple by the way.”

“We’re…uh, no,” she sputtered. “He’s only a dance contest partner. That’s it. That’s all.”

Rafael raised one dark eyebrow and cocked his head to one side. “If you say so.”

Before she could counter, they reached the table, and Ryan rose from his chair. Amara saw the pieces of foam cup on the table. She’d have chalked it up to a nervous habit except for the muscle ticking in Ryan’s jaw. Was he jealous?

She had made it clear after the kiss in the studio that their relationship was strictly business. Too much rode on the contest to risk getting involved with him. The night after the kiss she had dreamed about Ryan, and the dream held more kisses and more—

“Good luck in the contest,” Rafael said. “I’ll watch the paper for the results, and I’ll email you as you asked.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek. Amara saw the muscle in Ryan’s jaw kick up a notch into high twitch mode.

He was jealous.

“And my wife is waving frantically at me, which either means she needs to make another trip to the ladies room or she’s ready to go home or both. Or she could be in labor. I’d better go. Nice to meet you,” he said hastily in Ryan’s direction before leaving.

“Speaking of going home, let me know when you’re ready.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, checked his watch, then gave a yawn that was obviously fake. Amara almost laughed, then reconsidered. They had been at the club for over two hours, and to his credit, Ryan had danced every tango except the one she’d danced with Rafael. He’d listened to her directions and suggestions without a single word of complaint. And they still had almost an hour’s drive back to Mimosa Key.

She feigned her own yawn. “I guess I’m ready to go.”

They changed shoes again and made their way to Ryan’s car. And during the drive back to the island, she drifted off with her head leaned back against the leather headrest.

Ryan’s gentle tap on her shoulder and his voice softly calling her name pulled her out of her slumber.

“We’re here. Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sleeping Beauty? In that nebulous spot between sleep and consciousness, she imagined him kissing her awake. Carrying her from the car to her apartment and inside to her bed.

“Come on. Wake up, sleepyhead. I have to get some rest because I have a conference call in the morning with a recruit from Lithuania.”

Talk about a mood breaker. The mention of Lithuania pulled her fully into wakefulness. She blinked and sat up in the bucket seat. “Sorry that I flaked out on you like that.”

“I guess you were more ready to leave than you thought. Plus, wrangling me around that dance floor couldn’t have been easy.”

“There you go again. Disparaging yourself. You’re a better dancer than you give yourself credit for.”

“Oh? I am?”

“Yes, you are. Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

He chuckled. “I think I will. My confidence needs all the boost it can get.”

Amara yawned, this time for real.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, undoing first her seat belt and then his. He opened his door and pivoted to exit the vehicle. She grasped his arm to stop him.

“You don’t have to get out.”

“I beg to disagree, but yes ma’am, I do. My mother would skin me alive if I didn’t provide door-to-door service for my date.”

She started to correct him. She wasn’t his date. But that just might make the situation awkward. He rounded the front of the car, opened her door and offered his hand to help her out of the low-slung vehicle. At her apartment door, he waited while she dug a key from her purse and unlocked the door.

“Your shoes,” he said, holding out the black drawstring bag.

She reached for the bag and her hand brushed his. The jolt of electricity shooting up her arm surprised her. The heroines in the romance novels she carried in her purse frequently felt those jolts, but she had decided long ago it was wishful thinking. No man had even elicited such a response from her. Until now.

Now she was a believer. And she wondered how it would feel if the touch was more than accidental.

“See you Monday,” he said, interrupting her flight of fancy. “Are you okay? You have an odd look on your face.”

No, she wasn’t okay. She was mentally willing this man to touch her more, or at the very least, kiss her again. She opened her mouth to answer, and nothing came out. She worried at first that her blood sugar was off from the dancing and she was in danger of collapse. But she’d had that happen enough times in twenty-one years to rule it out. No, this was…lust?

She cleared her throat, blinked and tried again. “Fine. I’m just fine. Tired, but fine.” Her voice sounded breathy to her, like it belonged to a stranger.

Ryan’s eyes tapered to slits, and he studied her. “Okay, if you’re sure. G’night.” He swiveled and walked away, leaving Amara in her open doorway still wondering what a good-bye kiss might have been like.

Once inside, she leaned against the door and sighed heavily. Before she could collect her thoughts, a knock sounded behind her. She peered through the peep hole and saw…Ryan?

“I forgot something,” he said when she swung the door open.

She still had her purse and shoes in her hand and couldn’t imagine what he’d left behind since he hadn’t come inside. “What—”

His arms snaked around her. “This.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “I forgot this.”

His tongue grazed her lips, and she opened to him. Their tongues clashed, and she released a soft moan. She dropped the purse and shoes, and as her arms wound around his neck he hardened against her.

He broke the kiss first, lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. Pressed his lips to her temple before kissing down her cheek, her jaw, to that sensitive spot on her neck.

Heat twirled through her, and she rolled her head back to expose her throat. She heard his low groan as his hand slid from her waist up to cup her breast through her dress. Amara knew they should take this inside, but the kiss and his touch took her to a place she hadn’t been in so long, and she didn’t want to break the mood. Not now.

The flash of headlights pulling into the parking lot broke the mood for them. Ryan stepped back, and Amara could feel the heat in her face.

“Okay…well.” He stammered and rocked on his heels before running his tongue across his lips as if to taste where her lips had been. “I think that took care of what I forgot.”

“Okay…well,” she repeated. “That’s good. That you found it, that is.”

“Oh, it was good all right. Way better than good.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth, driving home the point. “I’ll be going now. See you Monday.” And once again he walked away.

Amara stood in the doorway until his car disappeared from sight. The kiss had definitely been good. Very good. Beyond her wildest imagination good. But letting her emotions carry her away wasn’t good at all. She had to stay focused on the competition. Once that was over, she could give in to them – if he was still interested and she wasn’t simply the girl-of-the-moment for him.