Page 16 of To Tango, with Desire

His grin was quick, a flash of victory before it faded. For some reason, it reminded me of the big bad wolf. A big, bad, sexy wolf.

“I’d love to.” He knocked back the rest of his drink in a way that made me flinch.

“Your shoes?”

Kade shrugged, offering me his hand as he stood. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I knew there was a protocol about the types of shoes allowed, but there was something about this guy that made me want to rebel.

“Deal.”

The second I stepped onto the dance floor with Kade, I could feel Zane’s eyes burning through my lilac dress. I was petty enough to want Zane to yearn for me. To remind him of what he was missing.

“I warn you, I’m rusty.”

“I don’t care,” I replied, settling against him. The dress exposed me from nape to waist, the satin material gathering just at my lower back, softly shifting with every sidestep or turn. “I’ve only been dancing for a few years myself.”

Kade’s embrace was stiff, but not uncomfortable, and while his lead was tentative, it was by no means stilted or awkward. He was a decent dancer, even if he cursed a few times at his mistakes. I murmured my encouragement, laughing a few times as we both stumbled. He was open, charming, and up for a bit of fun. Exactly what I needed.

We danced two tandas, and I suggested trying a milonga that was fast and reckless. Even though we laughed more than we danced, I had a sense that was exactly what he needed. By the end of the second set, we moved back to the bar, parched and a little giddy.

“I don’t think I’ve had as much fun on the dance floor in a long time.”

“Even with your sneakers on?”

“Did you hear the squeaks?” He winked.

“God help us if you marked that floor.”

“I don’t think the owners would let me back in if they found out but screw it. Christ, it’s been years since I’ve danced.”

“You were great out there.”

Kade grinned, his wide smile effortlessly charming. “Thanks. So were you.”

I was grateful to sit down again and secretly thrilled when Kade rejected a few women who asked for a dance. He was easy to talk to, open and happy to share with me anecdotes of his travels. I spoke of my business, of the amazing couples I’d grown close to in the dancing community. Basically anything that came to mind.

But just as I was building up my courage to invite myself over to his place, our conversation was cut short.

Zane approached, face set in stone. “You need to leave.” He directed the comment not to me, but Kade.

“You’re being rude,” I replied, taken aback by his tone.

“What the hell are you doing here, Kade? Answer me,” Zane demanded, his jaw tight.

“Wait a minute, you two know each other?”

“Stay out of this, Amira,” Zane warned.

“I’m here to dance. Just like you, old man. Last time I checked, this was a public milonga.”

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

I stood between them, afraid that the tension in the air would turn into something physical.

“Kade?” I reached out to touch his arm, and his apologetic grin told me everything I needed to know. He’d lied to me. But why?

“It’s been lovely dancing with you, Amira. But I think this is my cue.”