her eyes as she stared at me.
“No one,” I said too quickly.
“Bullshit.” Rochelle did a quick scan of the ballroom. “Oh, I see him. That sexy Marlboro man in the corner, staring at you.” She winked at me. “He’s an American treasure.”
I just shook my head and forced myself to let go, losing myself in the catchy beats with my signature dance moves. They went sort of like this: Here’s my shoulder. Let me roll it forward as I twist my left hip. Oh, here’s my other shoulder. Let me roll it forward as I twist my right hip. And repeat.
Dorky, I know. And even though Rochelle gave me a wide berth, I moved like I was dancing in a confined space. It was all part of my “routine,” so to speak.
By the time the song ended, I was out of breath and gasping for air, feeling like my lungs were on fire.
Good Lawdy Lawd . I felt atrociously out of shape.
Then the DJ switched tempos and played a love song reserved for slow dancing, prompting the couples on the floor to put their arms around each other and shuffle their two left feet.
Rochelle said, “I’m outta here.” And then she was gone like the wind.
The relaxed acoustic guitar sounds of Thinking Out Loud filled the entire ballroom. It was a beautiful love song about a couple growing old together and loving each other as if it were the first day they met.
Not a song I was planning on dancing to all by myself. I started walking off the dance floor, when I felt a warm hand on my waist. “Dance with me.”
I whirled around and there was Julian, tall and broad shouldered in an exquisite suit that fit his frame perfectly. The shirt was crisp and the tie a mix of lilac and lavender.
To his credit, he managed to make a feminine tie look very masculine.
The man rocks paisley , I thought.
There was a hint of laughter in his eyes as a sexy grin tilted his lips.
I found myself reluctantly smiling back. “What?” I asked. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” One of his arms slid around my back, the other held my hand out to the side, and he swept me up into the music before I could protest. When he spoke again, there was a thread of amusement in his voice. “By the way, I enjoyed watching you shake your ass off on the dance floor.”
I felt my temples flush hot and prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim light. “I guess I couldn’t help it.” I shrugged. “That song just makes me wanna dance. And I like Taylor Swift.”
He skewed me a glance that was both charming and cheeky. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” I insisted.
Expertly, he guided me across the dance floor, his grip strong and firm, his fingers burning through the fabric of my dress. “You look stunning tonight,” he said, looking at me with such intensity that I grew a little flustered again.
“Thank you.”
His steady gaze traveled down my face to rest on my dress. “Red is your color.”
“It is?” I said demurely. “Why, thank you again. This dress was dyed using the blood of the innocents.”
A rich, deep laugh escaped him. “You can’t fool me. You’re an angel.”
“Yep, that’s me.” I suppressed a snort. “An angel. I probably need to lose some demons first.”
He said nothing, only smiled. And as we continued to sway to the romantic ballad, it felt as if everyone else were far away and we were the only ones on the floor.
“Speaking of the innocents…” Julian twirled me out and then in again, grinning as a laugh escaped me. “How’s Evan doing?”
Interesting segue . “He’s good,” I said.
“What do you have planned for his birthday?” He studied me with a thoughtful expression. “It’s in two weeks, right?”
“It is. Yes,” I said, surprised he recalled our conversation in such detail. “I’m planning a Lego-themed party for him.”
“Lego?” His face lit up. “Legos were the building blocks of my childhood.”
“Mine, too.”
“So…” He twirled me again and then dipped me. “Can I come to the
Learning to Kill: Stories