Page 2 of To Tango, with Desire

“Speaking of admiration, Amira, girl, your dresses have been turning the tango world upside down. Do you know how many dancers came up to me asking for your number? I ran out of your business cards!”

I felt my cheeks burn. I never got tired of hearing how dancers loved my designs, and I knew it was because of their support that I was able to turn my one-off, crazy idea into a business.

“That makes me happy and terrified, as I’ve already had a ton of orders come through since then. I don’t know how I’m going to manage. My parents are going to kill me if I take up any more room in the house.”

Tilda reached out, touching my arm. “What happened to the store? Did the agent lease it out to someone else?”

“No, I’m still waiting to hear back from him. It’s so hard to find a space, but honestly, you guys, this place is so good.”

“You know, you can use the space above our dance studio if you need to. I don’t have as much time now to paint as I used to. It’s yours when you need it,” Alé offered.

I swallowed back the sudden rush of emotion. “You’ve both been wonderful, but I can’t have machines whirring while you’re teaching classes.”

“The offer is there if you need it.”

“And your dad? Any updates?”

I sighed in frustration. “Nope. Still won’t accept my money. I mean, he could die if he—and he—”

Alejandro squeezed my shoulder. “It will work out, Amira. I know it will work out.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Tilda apologized.

“It’s okay. It’s just frustrating and upsetting and . . . he’s so damn stubborn.”

“I can try talking to him again? Man to man?”

“He’s more mule than man, and I appreciate the offer, but he refuses anytime any of us try to help. He’s got this thing about needing to provide for us kids, as if we’re all in diapers and not full-grown adults.”

“Listen, I know I can’t change things, but maybe a dance might take your mind off it?” Alé held out his hand.

“Sounds lovely.”

“Vamos, Amira. Show me those moves.”

I laughed despite the pressure in my chest.

My life was a mess. I wanted to feel happy at the prospect of opening my very own clothing store, but every time I thought about it, I wanted to weep. What good was the money if I couldn’t even help my father pay the bills? Or convince him to get his heart operation?

It was a hopeless situation.

The one consolation was that if I got this lease, then I’d be able to eventually move out of home and support myself. Then maybe my parents wouldn’t be so eager to find me a husband. Shrugging off my melancholy, I stepped into Alé’s embrace. We swayed for a few moments, finding our shared axis, listening to the rhythm. My breath caught at the power in Alejandro’s lead. There was only one other man I knew who danced like that. And I promised myself I wouldn’t spare him another thought.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be swept away by the dance, enjoying Alé’s playful ganchos and changes in direction. I was beginning to relax when I felt a prickling awareness along my spine.

Somewhere in the crowd, he was watching me. The pulsing vibration slid along my bare skin, caressing my senses.

Zane.

I kept my eyes closed, determined to enjoy the music. The jaunty bandoneon filled the room, coaxing lovers and dancers and friends to move as one. My feet flew across the floor, and with daring boleos and sweeping saccadas, I followed, giving myself up to the melody.

I opened my eyes, then froze.

The first song had ended, and couples stood waiting for the next to begin. But all I could focus on was Zane. Watching me. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes, those dark enigmatic depths, were possessive.

Seductive memories swirled across the dance floor, phantoms from a night not so long ago.

Seconds later, the next song began, and I was grateful for the distraction.