He wanted to be far more than her friend. He wanted to whisk her into a darkened chamber and…hell. Best to banish that thought.
For now.
“Am I to be counted amongst your friends, then?” he queried lightly.
“No,” she said. “Of course not, but I strongly dislike being called Josephine. The name is better suited to a bitter dowager who takes great pride in mowing down everyone around her with vicious insults.”
He did his best to dismiss the disappointment accompanying her rapid assertion she did not count him amongst her friends. What would it require, he wondered, to earn the trust of the woman in his arms?
Why did he care, anyway? He told himself he did not as the music began. A Viennese waltz. And then, they were moving. Whirling. Although he was quite a bit taller than she was, they fit together in a disturbingly natural way. In a way that made him ponder how else they might fit together.
In the bedchamber.
Not the time to entertain notions that may give him a cockstand in the midst of a waltz, he reminded himself.
But something was nettling him. “Why not?”
He spun her.
“Why not what, Mr. Decker?” she asked as they whirled back down the line.
They moved with a mutual grace he could not help but to admire. They danced well together.
“Why do you not count me amongst your friends?” he elaborated, guiding them through the steps.
He had not danced in as long as he could recall, but some things were like riding a horse. One never forgot how to do it properly, after having learned the skill. It shocked him to realize he wasenjoyingthis dance.
“I scarcely know you at all,” she said. “And need I remind you that you are holding my list hostage?”
“I prefer to think of it as keeping itsafe.” He grinned, then twirled her again.
There was something rivetingly sensual about not just the waltz buther. They went down the line, facing each other, then turning away, then facing each other once more, in an echo of their verbal parries and thrusts.
Color rose to her cheeks as they whirled together some more. “Safe is the last word that would ever come to mind in conjunction with you, Mr. Decker.”
“Oh?” He guided them through another series of steps. “And what words, pray tell, would come to that sharp mind of yours in conjunction with me,bijou?”
He spun her, enjoying the flounces of her gown and the silhouette she presented far more than he ought. She faced him, eyes bright. “Irritating.” They began making their way down the line yet again, turning away, and then back to each other. “Meddlesome.” More steps until she faced him once more. “Dangerous.”
Decker could not contain a bark of laughter as she ended back in his arms and they started another circuit of the floor. “I will take the last, but I contest the first and the second.”
“You have better suggestions?” Her gaze was fastened upon his as they moved together.
“Handsome,” he tried.
“Vain,” she said.
“Excessively witty,” Decker continued as if she had not spoken.
“Extraordinarily arrogant,” she returned.
“Capable of kissing a lady until she is breathless,” he countered before twirling her once more.
Her eyes locked upon his, and for a moment, she was speechless.
“Not this lady,” she snapped at last.
They turned away from each other, proceeding with the steps of the dance as if they had not just veered into momentous territory.
