“Would you like to dance?” He could do polite when required.
“I-I....”
“I understand I'm not the most elegantly dressed guest, but I'm clean, have excellent manners, and promise not to stand on your feet.”
“You look fine.”
“Thanks, you look pretty fine yourself.”
She got to her feet, and he noticed her cheeks were flushed. Not used to compliments, he thought. Brad waved her ahead of him, then watched her lovely body sway as she walked. It was natural, he realized, and unstudied, and ridiculously seductive.
She faced him, and they began to move. Brad, like his siblings, had studied music and understood the beat enough to look comfortable on the dance floor. Macy, however, had no clue, but he found her movements fascinating and oddly graceful. He could hardly keep his eyes from her body.
“I’m not a good dancer.”
“Sure you are.”
“No.” She shook her head. “My mother forced plenty of lessons on me, but nothing ever stuck.”
“You look good to me.”
“That’s nice, but not the truth.”
“You calling me a liar, Miss Macy?”
“I can’t hear the beat, you see, so yes I am.”
Her face screwed up in concentration as she listened.
“I’ve tried, really, but I’m tone deaf.”
Brad wasn’t someone who laughed a lot—mostly he was a serious guy—but she’d managed it, twice.
“Let me show you the beat.” Brad took her hand and placed her palm against his chest. “When I tap your hand, you move.”
Ignoring the spike of heat her touch was causing through his shirt, he tapped her hand in time to the music. She stepped on his toes, face-planted into him, and by the end was laughing so hard she was crying.
“See, hopeless case.”
“You’re not trying.” Brad steadied her again, his hands on her small waist, enjoying the feel of her curves. “You’ve decided you can’t and that’s it. Relax and let me lead you.”
“I’m trying!”
“Seriously?”
“Deadly.”
“Okay, let’s try something else.” Brad took both her hands in his. “I’ll steer you around.”
It was better, but not a whole lot.
“I’m never going to dance for the Rockettes.”
“Not sure what they are, but it’s never too late.”
“They’re a famous dance company.”
“Okay, so possibly not,” he said when she bumped into him again. Not that he minded. His body certainly didn’t.
