“Dance or drink? Your call.” She
tilted her head first toward her table, which was a few steps in one direction,
and then the dance floor, which was about the same distance in the other
direction. “We’ll keep you busy so no one bothers you.”
She was right. Everyone had gone
back to their conversations, the brief interlude where he’d stood in the local
spotlight had passed. Not unlike his career.
“Dance,” he said quickly. Not
interested in being social just yet.
Or maybe he just really wanted to
hold Mia in his arms and find out if his memory was as good as he feared it
was.
The song changed as they approached
the dance floor, and he spun her into his arms to the beat of the music. One
hand clasped hers close to his heart, the other pressed against the small of
her back. She smelled like suntan lotion and sandalwood.
The scent spun him back a decade,
to a crowded riverbank surrounded by his friends and classmates. Back then,
she’d been the one to take him in her arms, probably spurred on by the Booze he
could taste on her lips when she’d kissed him.
Really kissed him, not those stage
kisses their characters had shared.
She’d fit in his arms, but not in
his plans. He was already packed and ready to go. And he knew Mia wasn’t just
looking for a grad night good time.
So he’d let her down, as quickly
and as nicely as he could manage, even though every cell in his body had urged
him to take her up on her offer.
He’d tried to be a gentleman. But
rejecting her in front of everyone hadn’t been his best move ever. He could
still recall the stricken look on her face, and the way she’d fled as the whole
crowd watched.
“Been a while?”
Her question, murmured right in his
ear, snapped him back to the present. “Excuse me?”
She pushed at his shoulder with her
hand, grinning up at him. “Usually, when people dance, they move a little. Or
maybe this is some Hollywood trend?”
He realized with a start that they
were just standing there in the middle of the tiny dance floor. Grimacing, he
started to move. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”
“It’s okay.” She was quiet for a
while, her face contemplative. “So you really hate that catchphrase, don’t
you?”
He sighed. “That obvious, huh?”
“Why do you think I activated my
damsel-in-shining-armor routine?”
“Thanks for that, by the way.” He
turned her around to the beat of the music. “I didn’t always hate it. The
catchphrase, I mean.”
“I did,” she said simply, which
made him laugh.
“Oh, you did, huh? No love for the
worst pun of all time?”
She wrinkled her nose, which just
made her look more adorable. “Your character was so much more than a punch
line, but that turned Hugh into a walking joke. I thought you deserved more.”
Reflexively, he pulled her closer.
A surge of fondness swept through him. “Thank you,” he said.
Then he noticed her breasts were
brushing his chest and his thigh pressed between her legs, and something other
than fondness gripped him.
God, she felt good in his arms.
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