Impulse by Lass Small Read Free Book Online

songs everyone knew. They all sang along. No one could notice the volunteer singalong, because the bar was a loud, party place. The oysters were served in ice-filled tin trays. They were delicious.
    And Chas danced with Amy.
    He danced perfectly. So perfectly that other cousins came and demanded he dance with them.
    Chas smiled kindly and said, “How about later?” Or he said, “Not now.”
    After the cousins had tried, strange women felt free to come up and invite Chas to dance.
    Amy was surprised at the feelings the women’s conduct aroused in her. She was possessive. But again he kindly turned the women down. Not “No” but “Perhaps later.” He never did dance with anyone but Amy.
    It was heaven to dance with him. He knew exactly what he was doing, so he could do it effortlessly. Amy didn’t really care if they danced or not, although she did appreciate his skill. She would have been just as thrilled to simply be held against him. He held her perfectly. He felt so good against her body. His arms were enclosing, and his breath was sweet.
    He twirled her and dipped, he did the Peabody, he could dance any step. He made her look terrific. It was his skill in leading her, she only followed his directions as his hands moved to guide her.
    As he brought her to him after a dip and moved forward to her backward steps, in male aggression, she laughed— secure in his arms— as she looked up and asked, “What did you do to learn to dance so well? Are you a closet gigolo?”
    “My mother was adamant. She said, ‘All your life you will be in circumstances where you can dance. It beats sitting and drinking and listening to drunks. Learn to dance.’”
    Chas looked down into Amy’s face as he hesitated deliberately in his step, holding her. Then he added, “I’m glad mother is right again. I’m glad she hounded me into learning. I despised it at first. But I enjoy moving to the music with you. I like moving with you.” His voice was husky and low as he held her tightly to him on the crowded floor in the noisy room.
    His comment was very close to flirting. There had to be something she could reply that would hint that she was interested in him. She should have paid more attention to the men who came on to her.
    She tried to remember what they had said and how they had handled themselves. She’d never been interested enough to really listen and respond. She lacked tactics.
    Were there books? When you got to The Joy of Sex you were pretty far along. There had to be some intermediate maneuvers before you actually had a man in bed.
    Chas held her close to him there on the dance floor and said in that smoky voice of his, “I’m hungry.”
    “Shall we go back for the pizza now?”
    He smiled, so amused about something, and replied, “Why not?”
    They took their leave discreetly, exited the bar, recrossed the four-lane busy road at the light and went back to their suite. He didn’t rush her at all. He was skilled in working with strange women.
    They sat on their balcony, sipping wine, as they discussed the complex, the weather, the night and the coming wedding. They went on to current news, and he fetched the bottle of wine.
    With the end of their second glass, he suggested ordering the pizza. She was agreeable. He inquired, “Surely you’re not an anchovy devotee?”
    She apologized, “Yes.”
    “My God. They set up the entire anchovy distribution just in the hope of pleasing you?”
    She returned placidly, “I’m worth it.”
    His lashes came down to conceal the fires that leapt in his eyes. “How do you justify making the entire rest of the world say, ‘Everything but anchovies,’ just so they’re available for you?”
    “I travel.”
    “And you know Martin Durwood.”
    “Only because of an inquiry I did.” She found she didn’t want to lie. There was nothing against being misleading, but she couldn’t lie outright to Chas.
    “In your surveys and inquiries, do you choose designated