The Bridesmaid's Secret. Sophie Weston
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The first thing she was aware of was a warm hard hand on the bare skin of her midriff. Bella was so startled she almost missed her step. She looked back over her shoulder at the intruder, indignant.
‘Hi,’ he said.
Or she supposed that was what he said. It was too loud to hear him and nearly too dark to read his lips. But she could see them with odd vividness in the flickering shadows. Sculpted, sensually full and yet with a tension to them that spoke of deliberate control. A man of passions, then, but passions carefully mastered.
Bella could have laughed aloud at her fantasy. Especially as his mouth was almost all she could see of him.
In the strobe lighting though she could make out that he was tall and thin as a rake. She was aware of deep, intense eyes that seemed to burn into her. And there was a wicked rhythm to his dancing. Behind him, Bella saw her former partner fling up a hand in rueful farewell and move on to one of the other girls without missing a beat.
Which left her hard up against a body that seemed made of steel.
Pliant steel. She gasped, as he flung her away from him, brought her back. While she was still reeling, he clasped her to him in some routine that he was completely master of. Bella did not know it. Between surprise and lack of familiarity with the steps she floundered. For the first time in years she missed her footing several times.
The stranger bent forward, pushing her head back and said in her ear, ‘Let me lead.’
It went against the grain because Bella was an excellent dancer, but she did. At once, she seemed to know what he was going to do before he did it. The steel body moulded hers, signed to her what she was to do, and she responded. They were perfect together.
When the track ended, she turned to face him, out of breath and exhilarated.
‘Who are you?’ they said in unison.
He shook his head. ‘You first.’
He offered her the bottle of water. She drank deeply, then tipped some over her hot forehead. The water dripped down her cheekbones, her throat…She saw him watch a tear-drop slide between her breasts under her scoop-cut top.
He masked it at once but she saw the effect it had on him. It made up a little for being hijacked on the dance floor. She smiled brilliantly at him.
‘Tonight I’m Tina the Tango Dancer. You?’
‘Tonight?’
She shook her head, so that her hair swung wildly. ‘This is New York. You can’t expect me to give out my name to anyone who walks up and grabs me.’
He was amused. ‘But you look like a girl who likes to live on the edge.’
She winced. That was what everyone thought. Even her family thought Bella could cope with anything. Love them and leave them, that was Bella. Light-hearted. Adventurous. Never, ever, vulnerable.
And she wasn’t. She wasn’t.
That was why she was in this wonderful town alone, putting her life together and telling herself the loneliness would pass as long as she did not let anyone see it.
The disc jockey was talking, promoting his latest mix. Bella tuned it out.
She said airily, ‘There are edges and edges.’ She passed the bottle back to him. ‘You’re not telling me your name, I notice.’
‘Gil.’
‘Just Gil?’
In spite of his amusement, the dark eyes rested on her bare shoulders as if he was hungry. She saw it. A small curl of awareness thrilled through her.
But he answered coolly enough. ‘If you’re Tina the Tango Dancer, I’m just Gil.’
She liked the hunger. It made her feel alive. Just as the music and the strobe lights and the cold midnight streets outside made her feel alive. As she had forgotten how to feel when she was on her own.
‘Fine,’ she said, preparing to enjoy herself.
The jockey stopped talking. The unforgiving beat started again. At once Bella was moving: hips, shoulders, feet, all talking back to the music.
Gil, whoever he was, began to dance too. But he made it very clear he was not letting her go. Every time she spun and jumped, his hand was there to guide her back to his side.
Exciting, decided Bella.
She grew bolder, challenging him, trusting him not to let her go. His hands were like iron as she bent away from him, her hair brushing the floor. She straightened, laughing delightedly.
At the end of the set, she was hot and breathless. Gil looked down at her, his eyes glinting. He was not even breathing hard.
He must be very fit.
One of the Japanese visitors came up. Even without his tie, he was still impressively courteous. He made a little breathless bow.
‘You have been most kind. We thank you.’
Bella read the signs. ‘You’re ready to go?’
Mr Ito was regretful. But there was an early plane to catch.
‘No problem,’ said Bella, detaching herself from Gil and dismissing him from her mind. ‘I’ll get my coat.’
She was piqued that Gil did not try to stop her. After all that possessive machismo on the dance floor she would have expected him at least to ask for her phone number.
She would not have given it to him. Of course she would not. But he should have asked. But when she looked round the tall thin figure was nowhere to be seen.
She shrugged, trying to laugh it off.
In the cloakroom, Rosa, one of the other club regulars, was fluffing out her hair.
‘Who’s the hunk?’ she asked Bella in the mirror.
Bella shrugged again. ‘Who knows?’
‘Thought you were going for the big one there.’
‘Big one?’
‘Don’t be so prim and English! I thought you were going to let him have a date. For once.’
‘You know me. Easy come, easy go.’
‘You danced so well together.’
Bella gave her an ironic look. She knew quite well what Rosa was talking about. ‘It doesn’t always follow.’
Rosa laughed.
Bella retrieved her outdoor things. Her coat was a thick wool mix and ankle length. Her scarf was cashmere and her gloves were lined with mink. New York in February was not kind to bare flesh. She even slipped her strappy sandals into her bag and pulled on fur-lined boots.
Since she was in charge of tonight’s official entertainment, she had a limousine on stand-by. She fished her tiny phone out of her recovered shoulder bag and dialled the chauffeur.
‘Ready to go Arnie. Back to the hotel. Can you drop me off after? Great.’
Rosa was reapplying lip-gloss.
‘Going to see him again?
‘He didn’t ask.’
‘So?’ Rosa lowered the lip-gloss and met her eyes in the mirror. ‘What’s wrong with asking yourself? This is the twenty-first century you know.’
Bella flinched.
‘Yeah, so they say. But I’ve been there, done that and it didn’t work.’
‘Can’t have done it right,’ said Rosa with conviction.
Oh, I did it right. He just didn’t want me. He wanted my sister.
She said aloud, ‘Yes, that must be it.’ Her voice was colourless.
‘So