My throat goes dry as I lift my eyes to his.
Triumph registers on his handsome face. “You were saying something about fancy taekwondo moves.”
“You’re such a bully.”
“That, I am.” A slow grin tugs at his mouth. “I kind of like having you as my prisoner.”
I eye him in a challenge. “What now?” Will he kiss me this time? Anticipation thrums through me with the force of thunder.
“You’re so tense.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your forehead’s all wrinkled up like a raisin.”
“Is not!” My eyebrows shoot up. Ugh! He thinks I’m shriveled.
He laughs. “Even worse.”
A giggle circles my throat as I force my forehead to relax. “Stop harassing me.” If he weren’t pinning my arms to my sides, I’d use my hand to smooth my skin.
“I could give you a shoulder rub.”
My eyes pop. “Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”
He frowns. “Too bad. How about a dance instead?”
“A dance?” My heart skitters. “You dance?”
“Yep, it goes with the territory.”
“That’s right. Your mom’s a—” Realizing my blunder, I clamp my lips shut. Yikes! How could I be so stupid? I’m getting too comfortable with him, and it’s making me sloppy.
He looks puzzled. “My mom’s what?”
My cheeks turn hot enough to melt metal. “You mentioned that your mom runs a dance studio. I assume that means she can dance.” When he doesn’t look convinced, I blurt. “I read somewhere that your mom was a dancer.”
“She is. Where did you read that?”
This is worse than trying to stay afloat in a tidal pool. “Um … I can’t remember. It was somewhere online …” Open mouth, insert foot.
“Dancing was a requirement in my household growing up.”
And yet he couldn’t see his way to take me to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Resentment burns my chest. I got jipped out of dancing with him all those years ago. I’m not about to let history repeat itself. A reckless streak shoots through me. “Alright, John Travolta, let’s see what you’ve got.”
In swift movements, he releases my arms and encircles my waist, drawing me closer. He grasps my right hand with practiced ease. “Place your other hand on my shoulder.”
How am I supposed to dance when I’m this close to him? Every cell in my body is sizzling. “There’s no music,” I protest.
A chuckle rumbles in his throat. “We’ll make our own.” He leads me around the room, hummingI’m Dreaming of a White Christmas. Normally, a guy singing without music would be hokey. But when that guy is Axel Cox, well, there’s nothing hokey about it. The whole experience is downright intoxicating.
No surprise, he’s light on his feet. He twirls me around, first one direction and then the other. We do pretty well at first. Then he goes one way, and I go the other. To my dismay, I step on his foot.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
Amusement colors his features. “Don’t let it happen again.”
I lift my chin. “If you would do a better job of leading?—”
