“So is Kip. C’mon, Harper, help the poor guy relax. He’s about to enter hell, working eighteen-hour days.”
Kip cocked his head. “Harper?”
Chantal glared at Harper until she said, “Um, okay,” and extended a shaking hand to Kip. Her sister nodded.
Kip’s hand wrapped around hers as he led her to the dance floor as “Noche Y De Dia” by Julio Iglesias played. Letting the music lead, he waited for Harper to relax before he placed a gentle hand above her hip. She startled at his touch. “Sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Their eyes met, her gray-green irises mesmerizing him as the fragrance of peonies surrounded him, her body forming a square with his. He took her right hand with his left, and she placed her left hand on his shoulder.
As the tempo increased, she disappeared into Kip’s lead, still maintaining her distance but he felt the tension releasing from her body. Harper stayed easily in step with him. He smiled at one point when she closed her eyes with a sigh.
The music drifted into a sexy, slow tempo. Kip pulled her a bit closer, but her body stiffened. A trace of fear touched her beautiful features.
“It’s alright,” he soothed. His mind emptied of everything except for Harper’s face and the sultry song. Kip loved to dance, but this felt more than a dance—it was somehow intimate. As the song concluded and the band signaled for a break, Harper stepped back and dropped her head. She seemed to feel guilty for enjoying the dance.
As they approached the table, he saw Kyle returning with Chantal, who wore a brilliant smile. “He did more than get by.” She laughed before taking a greedy sip from her drink.
“That’s because I let you lead,” Kyle joked.
Harper’s smile remained practiced.
“Sweetheart, that was amazing. Where did you learn to dance like that?” Kip asked.
“Ballroom dance lessons. Our parents wanted us to be graceful,” Chantal answered for Harper. “She paid attention. I was distracted.”
“‘Distracted’ is a good word,” Harper said.
Kyle lifted his chin toward Kip, and the two slid the girls’ table in front of theirs. “Kip, where did you learn to dance like that?” Harper asked.
“Miss Kim’s Dance Studio. I was short, dumpy, and uncoordinated. All I wanted was to become an Olympic gymnast. Don’t laugh—I was eight, and I also wanted to be an astronaut. My parents indulged me. My mom helped me with diet and nutrition. They enrolled me in a gymnastics class. The major issue was I had two left feet, so the coach said to try dance lessons.
“I was one of two boys in the program. The director said I had to take ballet before I could enroll in other classes. I did it because I wanted to take the fun classes: jazz, hip hop and Latin. Soon I was doing jazz and Latin dancing. Hormones began to kick in, as well as the diet and exercise. I continued dancing and competing in gymnastics all the way through high school.”
He shook his head. “I got bullied big time for taking dance, but the other guys lost out. It was me and ten girls in every class I took.” Kip laughed. “And the combination of the two helped get me into college.
“And here you are with two girls. Well, two and three-quarters girls.” Chantal patted her bump. “Dancing pays off,” she teased. Harper turned bright red.
“I’ve known you for twenty years, and you really took lessons,” Kyle said, shaking his head.
“You knew I took dance lessons.” Kip shrugged.
Kyle opened his palms. “Asshat, not dance lessons. Gymnastics. I thought we gave you that name …” The music drowned out his voice.
“Okay, boys, what gives? Is this part of your conquest act?” Chantal asked.
“No,” Kyle grumbled.
Kip held up his hands. “Kyle and I served in the Navy. We met when we were assigned to the same unit.”
Kyle chuckled. “The dance lessons showed on our first leave together.”
Kip shared, “It was obvious when I danced with that girl from Kappa Kappa Gamma, they thought they were going to make the Navy boys look like fools. They had the DJ play ballroom music and pitted that Prudence Something-or-Other against one of us. I was pissed and volunteered. After stepping on her toes for the first six measures, I twirled her into my arms and took her around the dance floor in a perfect Argentine tango. Dip included.”
Chantal laughed, and Harper paled. Kip wondered what part of his story upset her.
“Yeah,” Kyle shook his head, “I’ve never seen so many pouts.”
“What name did they give you and why?” Chantal leaned on her hands.
