They were going to dance open position, not closed.
He masked his disappointment as best he could. She was being smart, and he’d be wise to follow her lead.
But once the music started,hetook the lead, focusing on the steps he’d practiced in his room long after his undersized partner went to bed. No way had he wanted to embarrass himself—or his teacher.
The first few moves were a bit stiff, but once he got into the rhythm and was confident his feet were cooperating, he actually began to enjoy himself.
Based on Devyn’s smile, she was too.
When the song at last wound down, he threw caution to the wind and guided her through a double spin to finish it off.
“Wow.” Her feet had stopped moving, but her eyes were still dancing. “Well done—and mission accomplished.”
“Thanks to you.”
“You can’t teach people rhythm. You have a natural instinct for it.” She cocked her head. Reached over and adjusted his bow tie. “It got a little crooked during the dance.”
He swallowed as a faint floral scent floated past his nose. “Thanks. Shall we, uh, reclaim our seats?”
They wove through the round tables to their appointed spots, and no sooner did they sit than the toasts began. As soon as those were over, the servers swooped in with plates. The woman on Devyn’s right proceeded to monopolize her throughout the meal, leaving him to chat with the man to his left, who had strong opinions on the state of the world and wasn’t averse to sharing them.
This wasnothow he’d expected this evening to go.
Heck, at this rate he wouldn’t be able to have a real conversation with Devyn until they were in the car driving home.
Not acceptable.
While they’d agreed to keep everything light, he’d assumed he’d havesomeone-on-one interaction with his date.
Short of their tablemates cutting out early, however, it appeared the only way to make that happen would be to ask her to dance again.
He finished off his wedding cake and washed it down with a swig of coffee just as the band began to play a tune with a foxtrot beat.
This was his chance.
As soon as the guy beside him suspended his monologue to take a bite of cake, he leaned over and spoke in a low voice no one but Devyn could hear. “I need a break from Mr. Motor Mouth beside me. You want to dance?”
She excused herself from the woman who’d bent her ear during the entire dinner. Surveyed the dance floor as the vocalist began to croon “Night and day, you are the one...” Uncertainty flared in her irises, but in the end she nodded.
Without giving her an opportunity to change her mind, he set his napkin on the table, stood, and held out his hand.
She rose and slipped her fingers inside his, following him as he wove through the tables. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’m sure that woman is nice, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Sounds like you were in the same boat.”
“Yep.” He led her onto the dance floor. Turned to face her. “I do know the basic steps, but it’s been a while.”
“No worries. Wherever you lead, I’ll follow.”
If only.
He squelched that inappropriate thought—and stopped thinking entirely when she stepped into his arms. All he could do was hope the muscle memory she’d talked about would take over, because his brain was on overload with all the sensory input.
The feel of her slender fingers clasped in his.
The scent that was all Devyn swirling in the air around him.
The slight hitch in her breath when he slid his arm around her waist.
The lingering sweetness on his tongue from the wedding cake, which couldn’t compete with the sweetness of Devyn, who matched him step for step as they swayed to the forties song that had surprisingly racy lyrics.
