I wasn’t kidding when I told Vincente I’m not much of a dancer. For the first several minutes of learning the basic tango step, all my attention is on the progression of walk, sidestep, cross, pivot, and close, and I feel pretty victorious in the fact that I manage to stay on my feet, even if they do get tangled once or twice in the beginning. “Switch, switch!” Vincente says every few minutes, keeping us on our toes both metaphorically and literally by changing up our partners.

I start out with Colin the cyclist, who’s a bit stiff but doesn’t stumble any more than I do. We part ways with a laugh, and I find myself faced with Trevor. “I’m going to apologize in advance,” he says. It turns out to be for good reason—he nearly steps on my toes five times before our instructor calls another “Switch!”

“Get over here, cousin-in-law,” Maggie says to him. “Apparently I naturally lead—maybe I can keep you in line.

By the time I’m clasping hands with Brad, I’ve warmed up enough that I don’t have to keep rehearsing every move in my head. Which is a good thing, because Brad must have been worshiping his temple of a body with a great deal of cerveza tonight. He hardly has the steps down, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to throw in a dip here and a spin there, with a guffaw and a slide of his fingers a little closer to my ass than I’d prefer.

“Behave,” I tell him with a stern look, and he gives me a goofy grin it’s hard not to forgive.

“ ‘The tango is a game of seduction,’ ” he says with exaggerated dramatics, repeating Vincente’s line from the start of the class, but he’s more careful with his hands after that.

On the next “Switch!” I turn and nearly collide with Will stepping toward me.

“Shall we?” he says with an inscrutable expression. My hand automatically rises to meet his. He tugs me a little closer with his palm pressed to the center of my back, and suddenly there’s only a few inches between us. He smells like sun-warmed skin and that woodsy cologne.

My breath catches. I haven’t been this close to him in five years—and back then it was the occasional brief platonic hug. Not locked together in what’s meant to be dance’s most passionate embrace. His gray-green eyes hold mine with a clear challenge in them. My spine straightens. I’ll take that challenge. If this is a game of seduction, then I plan on winning here too.

It does feel like a game, like an argument between lovers, in a way I hadn’t noticed with my previous partners. I move toward him and then back up, pivoting with him, always in step, never completely giving way. I nearly stumble when I cross my ankles, and Will’s embrace steadies me—while pulling me another inch closer. I swivel, determined to keep up. Hoping he can’t feel how fast my heart is beating.

He doesn’t stumble even once, even slightly. I eye him suspiciously. “Have you done this before?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. He hasn’t looked away from me once. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Mmhm?” I say. Where’s the air conditioning? It’s getting a little too hot in here.

It’s hard to say whether I’m more relieved or disappointed when Vincente cuts in. “You’re doing well, Ruby,” he says. “Perhaps I can offer some . . . additional instruction.”

“I’m up for that,” I say. At very least it’s easier to breathe now.

Dancing with Vincente is its own sort of thrill, just a less intense one. “It’s important to lean close,” he says as he puts his arm around me. “And to gaze into your partner’s eyes. This is a dance of intimacy.”

“I thought it was a game,” I say.

“That too. A game is more fun when it’s played by two people enjoying getting to know one another.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Sidestep, cross ankles, pivot. Vincente’s movements flow as if the dance comes more naturally to him than walking.

“Certainly,” he says with a flash of teeth. “As the man it is my job to listen. You shift your weight first, and I know you are ready for me to pursue you. Even as I lead, I must show I understand what you need.”

“I guess you say that to all the ladies.” I bat my eyelashes at him.

He chuckles. “Only the prettiest ones, mi reina.”

My gaze slips away from his face for a second—and snags on Will’s. He’s dancing with Lulu now, but he’s obviously forgotten the eye contact portion of the dance, because he’s staring over her shoulder at me as they go through the motions. Or maybe he’s glowering at Vincente?

I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but it lights a little fire in me. I lean a touch closer to Vincente, feeling Will’s eyes on us, and say, “So when do we get to the part with roses in our teeth?”

“You’re an ambitious one,” he says with a wink. “That isn’t actually a part of any real tango. But there are many more enjoyable uses we might put our lips too.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” I say, mock-coy, and for a second I think he might close the distance between us with a demonstration. Maybe it looks that way from the outside, too, because before he can, Will is looming over us. He taps Vincente on the shoulder.

“I think it’s time for another switch,” he says.

Vincente gives him a measured look. The knowing glint in his eyes is more amused than anything else. “All right,” he says in a louder voice. “Find the partner you were most comfortable with and continue practicing with them. I’ll come around and offer suggestions.”

Will has already grasped my hand. I can’t say I was especially comfortable dancing with him, but right now I’m not thinking comfort is really the point. Not when the intentness of his gaze is sending sparks over my skin.

I can’t help myself. I raise my hand to set it in position on his shoulder . . . and trail my fingertips down the side of his neck on the way there. The heat in Will’s expression jumps from smoldering to scorching. I’m playing with fire again, all right, but damn, it feels good.

We fall into the dance, forwards and sideways and back again in time with the sweeping music. With each rotation, we inch closer together. Will’s thumb traces an arc on my back. His leg brushes the inside of my thigh during the closest step, setting off a blaze over my skin.

Someone call the hotel medical staff. I’m on the verge of a heart attack.

I let my hip graze his when we step beside each other. Cross, pivot. The skirt of my sundress flutters against my legs like a caress. Will leans in, our foreheads almost touching.

“Ruby,” he says. His voice is scorching too. At the sound of it, I swear my nipples perk up inside my bra. I’m going to need a cold shower or three when this is over, but it is so worth it.

“Will,” I reply. “Having a good time?”

“I’ll say.” He adjusts our hands so our fingers intertwine. My heart thumps even faster. I can feel his breath hot on my cheek when he opens his mouth to say something else.

The music clicks off. “And that concludes our class!” Vincente calls out. “Thank you everyone for giving it your best. I expect the dance floor at this wedding will be spectacular.”

I detach from Will, tensing my legs so they don’t betray how wobbly I feel right now. Everyone claps, Brad lets out a whoop, and Vincente gives a little bow.

“Hey, Will,” Trevor says from behind us. An escape hatch! I take the moment of Will’s distraction to skedaddle for the door. The warmth of his body is still traveling through mine. I’d better get out of here before it short-circuits the sensible parts of my brain completely, small as they appear to be when Will’s around.

I’ve made it almost all the way back to the main hotel building when I realize I’ve left my purse back at the ballroom. Nicely done, Ruby. I putter around on the patio while the others file past, not wanting to have to explain why I’m hustling off in the wrong direction, and then dash back to grab it. The ballroom is dark, but the light through the doorway from the hall catches on my leather satchel. I sling it over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and head back for a second time.

Night crept all the way in while we were dancing. The solar lanterns seem to float amid the darkness of the jungle. A bird flutters by with a low cry, and the salty scent of the ocean wafts over me on the warm breeze. You know what, forget adventuring on alien planets. This is the paradise I’d want, right here.

I’m so wrapped up in it that I don’t notice the figure heading toward me on the path until I’m almost bumping into him. I grab his arm instinctively to steady myself.

“Hello again,” Will says, his voice husky, and my heart speeds up to triple-time. My lips part with some answer I’m sure would have been deeply insightful, but when I look up at him my mind goes blank. Something unspoken ricochets between us, and then all at once he’s tugging me off the path.

My back hits a tree trunk, and then Will is on me, how much because I’ve pulled him to me and how much by his own power I’m not sure. I don’t really give a shit, frankly, because his mouth is on mine, and the most important thing in the world right then is kissing him back as hard as I can. How did I ever exist on a planet without this—his lips easing mine apart with a determined pressure, his tongue sweeping around mine in their own sort of dance?

His mouth tastes tart with a hint of tequila. His hands are all over me, fingers tangling in my hair, traveling down my side, skimming the hem of my dress to tease my thigh. Every inch of his body presses against mine, but somehow he’s still not quite close enough. I kiss him again, deep and messy, and yank his shirt from his pants with a fistful of fabric. My hand slides up over the abs I’ve been admiring, the firm lines of his chest, the pebble of a nipple. He groans when my thumb skims over it, so I squeeze it.

You could bottle that sound and sell it for a million dollars an ounce, it’s that electrifying.

Will tips my head back and kisses a path down the side of my neck with a swipe of tongue. His other hand slips up to cup my breast through my dress, and I tremble against him. The gasps coming out of my mouth would probably embarrass me if I had room in my head to care about anything other than yes, please, more. He swivels his palm, and the friction turns my nipple tight. My hips buck against his. He’s already hard, his cock a rigid length, and if I was wet before I felt that, I’m soaking now.

“God, Ruby,” Will mutters. “You’ve been driving me crazy. I want you here. Now.”

I’ve never heard an idea quite so fantastic. My agreement comes out as another moan. He teases my nipple harder and harder, seizing my mouth with his as he moves to the other. Every nerve in my body is singing his praises, and they crescendo as his hand dips down between us. He strokes me through my dress as if he knows exactly what I need, drinking my whimpers with another insistent kiss. His chest hitches against mine as I ride his hand. More, farther, please.

“Ruby,” he murmurs. Like a plea, like I’m not already completely at his mercy. His lips slip along the line of my jaw, leaving a trail of fire, and he shifts back just far enough to look down at me, to gaze into my face. Staring back up at him, his familiar, gorgeous features lit by the lantern down the path, I feel my heart flip over for reasons that have nothing—and everything—to do with the way he’s touching me.

I’m kissing Will. Will. Love letter pinned to the frat house bulletin board Will. This isn’t a game anymore if I’ve almost lost myself.

My body stiffens. Will hesitates at the sudden shift, but before he can say anything I’m ducking under his arm and away—from him, from the tree, from my own weakness.

“No,” I say. My legs are shaking, but at least my voice isn’t. “I’m sorry but this . . . this was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Ruby?” Will looks confused, but I’m already spinning and dashing along the path toward the hotel and the safety of my room.