“Yeah, dedicated is what we are,” Buster scowled at Jake.
“I’m real proud of them, Oliver, it has to be said.” Jake lifted his beer to salute his friends. Newman flipped him the bird, seen by everyone but Oliver.
“So, how about a dance to show off those fast-moving feet, Newman?” Annabelle got to hers and held out one hand. “After all, you were crowned log rolling champion in these here parts for the last two years. You should be up for the challenge.”
“Aww, shucks,” Newman muttered. “There’s no need to go on about that, Annabelle. You know how it upsets Buster that he came in second.”
Jake watched Annabelle laugh as Newman led her to the floor.
Buster grabbed Branna before Jake could, and by the smug look on his face, it was payback.
“I can’t line dance, Buster.” She tried to stop him, but he simply picked her up and placed her on her feet, then tugged her behind him.
“You ever danced in a line, Oliver?”
“I haven’t, Ethan, no.”
The Englishman was looking at the dance floor as the lines formed. Jake watched Buster grab Branna’s hips and push her into the space between him and Newman. She was nervous, her body stiff, as she listened to Buster explain the moves. She took a step to the right and turned back as Buster instructed her to do, and the hem of her skirt lifted, showing Jake, and anyone else watching, the lower half of her thighs. It was a dress that caressed her curves just like his hands had last night, a dress that he wanted to remove slowly and then kiss everything he uncovered. She had on heels, high enough to give her a few more inches, the color of raspberries; they did amazing things to her already amazing legs.
“Right, so let’s find some partners, Oliver, and attempt to teach you a few things before you return to your homeland,” Ethan insisted. “Off your ass, McBride, and get us some women, seeing as you know every one of them in this room.”
He did as Ethan asked because he wanted to get onto the dance floor. Minutes later, he’d asked three women he knew, and soon they were all in a line. Jake could hear Branna’s laughter as she got the steps wrong, often going the wrong way. Buster was patient, just placing a hand on her back and pointing her back the right way.
“You getting it, Rosebud?” Jake grabbed her hand as the song finished and she started to walk off the floor.
“No, in fact, it’s fair to say I’m hopeless.”
Her skin glowed under the soft lights, and her eyes were alive. He wanted her in his arms. “Come and dance with me, and I’ll give you some more lessons.”
Branna lookedinto the black eyes of Jake McBride and fought the shiver of longing that raced through her. He was dressed in jeans and a white fitted T-shirt, and while she’d only had two glasses of wine, which for her was one too many, he looked so sexy her body was actually tingling being this close to him.
“I don’t think I should embarrass myself anymore, Jake. I have to live here, after all.”
“Just one dance, Branna.”
She took the hand he held out to her and let him lead her back into the line.
“Think about the basic pattern, Branna. Right heel to the ground, then left. That’s it.”
He stood behind her, hands on her hips, leading her through the steps, and she began to see the pattern as he explained it to her. Pushing aside the feel of him so close, his breath on her cheek, hands on her hips, she concentrated and soon had the rhythm.
“I’m doing it!”
He came to stand beside her. “Clever girl.”
She bumped into him a few times and his hands steadied her, then usually caressed whatever part of her body they touched before removing them. It was like some kind of bizarre mating ritual that was heating her up faster than a hot tub. His hip bumped hers. His eyes, when she was foolish enough to look up, would wander over her face and down to her breasts. Branna needed to get off this dance floor before she gave in to the urge to jump him.
When the music finished, she thanked him and then started back to where the others sat with Jake on her heels.
“My pleasure. Now let me take you home and you can show me just how grateful you are.”
Branna stopped at those growled words. Turning, she looked up at him. His smile was soft and only for her, filled with a sensual promise of just what the night would hold if she let him take her to bed.
“That’s not a good idea, Jake, not after you running scared this morning.”
“Sure it is.” He stepped closer, crowding her with his big, hot body. “And I wasn't running scared. I had work to do.”
“No”—she took a step backward—“it’s not, and you didn't,” Branna said, turning away from him and continuing on to the table, where she said good night to everyone as she retrieved her bag. Giving Oliver a friendly wave and telling him to come back soon, she then left before Jake could lay a hand on her, because she knew that, if he did, she’d be lost.
