Christmas Cowboy: Will of Steel / Winter Roses. Diana Palmer
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onto the dance floor. “Apparently.” He drew her gently to him and then hesitated. After what she’d told him, he didn’t want to do anything that would make her uncomfortable. He said so.
“I don’t … well, I don’t feel uncomfortable, like that, with you,” she faltered, looking up into his black eyes. She managed a shaky little smile. “I like being close to you.” She flushed, afraid she’d been too bold. Or that he’d think she was being forward. Her expression was troubled.
He just smiled. “You can say anything to me,” he said gently. “I won’t think you’re being shallow or vampish. Okay?”
She relaxed. “Okay. Is this going to be hard to learn?”
“Very.”
She drew in a long breath. “Then I guess we should get started.”
His eyes smiled down at her. “I guess we should.”
He walked her around the dance floor, to her amusement, teaching her how the basic steps were done. It wasn’t like those exotic tangos she’d seen in movies at first. It was like kindergarten was to education.
She followed his steps, hesitantly at first, then a little more confidently, until she was moving with some elegance.
“Now, this is where we get into the more exotic parts,” he said. “It involves little kicks that go between the legs.” He leaned to her ear. “I think we should have kids one day, so it’s very important that you don’t get overenthusiastic with the kicks. And you should also be very careful where you place them.”
It took her a minute to understand what he meant, and then she burst out laughing instead of being embarrassed.
He grinned. “Just playing it safe,” he told her. “Ready? This is how you do it.”
It was fascinating, the complexity of the movements and the fluid flow of the steps as he paced the dance to the music.
“It doesn’t look like this in most movies,” she said as she followed his steps.
“That’s because it’s a stylized version of the tango,” he told her. “Most people have no idea how it’s supposed to be done. But there are a few movies that go into it in depth. One was made in black and white by a British woman. It’s my favorite. Very comprehensive. Even about the danger of the kicks.” He chuckled.
“It’s Argentinian, isn’t it? The dance, I mean.”
“You’d have to ask my buddy about that, I’m not sure. I know there are plenty of dance clubs down there that specialize in tango. The thing is, you’re supposed to do these dances with strangers. It’s as much a social expression as it is a dance.”
“Really?”
He nodded. He smiled. “Maybe we should get a bucket and put all our spare change into it. Then, when we’re Red’s age, we might have enough to buy tickets to Buenos Aires and go dancing.”
She giggled. “Oh, I’m sure we’d have the ticket price in twenty or thirty years.”
He sighed as he led. “Or forty.” He shook his head. “I’ve always wanted to travel. I did a good bit of it in the service, but there are plenty of places I’d love to see. Like those ruins in Peru and the pyramids, and the Sonoran desert.”
She frowned. “The Sonoran desert isn’t exotic.”
He smiled. “Sure it is. Do you know, those Saguaro cacti can live for hundreds of years? And that if a limb falls on you, it can kill you because of the weight? You don’t think about them being that heavy, but they have a woody spine and limbs to support the weight of the water they store.”
“Gosh. How do you know all that?”
He grinned. “The Science Channel, the Discovery Channel, the National Geographic Channel …”
She laughed. “I like to watch those, too.”
“I don’t think I’ve missed a single nature special,” he told her. He gave her a droll look. “Now that should tell you all you need to know about my social life.” He grinned.
She laughed, too. “Well, my social life isn’t much better. This is the first time I’ve been on a real date.”
His black eyebrows arched.
She flushed. She shrugged. She averted her eyes.
He tilted her face up to his and smiled with a tenderness that made her knees weak. “I heartily approve,” he said, “of the fact that you’ve been saving yourself for me, just like your uncle did,” he added outrageously.
She almost bent over double laughing. “No fair.”
“Just making the point.” He slid his arm around her and pulled her against him. She caught her breath.
He hesitated, his dark eyes searching hers to see if he’d upset her.
“My … goodness,” she said breathlessly.
He raised his eyebrows.
She averted her eyes and her cheeks took on a glow. She didn’t know how to tell him that the sensations she was feeling were unsettling. She could feel the muscles of his chest pressed against her breasts, and it was stimulating, exciting. It was a whole new experience to be held close to a man’s body, to feel its warm strength, to smell the elusive, spicy cologne he was wearing.
“You’ve danced with men before.”
“Yes, of course,” she confessed. She looked up at him with fascination. “But it didn’t, well, it didn’t … feel like this.”
That made him arrogant. His chin lifted and he looked down at her with possession kindling in his eyes.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, embarrassed. “I just blurt things out.”
He bent his head, so that his mouth was right beside her ear as he eased her into the dance. “It’s okay,” he said softly.
She bit her lip and laughed nervously.
“Well, it’s okay to feel like that with me,” he corrected. “But you should know that it’s very wrong for you to feel that way with any other man. So you should never dance with anybody but me for the rest of your life.”
She burst out laughing again.
He chuckled. “You’re a quick study, Jake,” he noted as she followed his steps easily. “I think we may become famous locally for this dance once you get used to it.”
“You think?” she teased.
He turned her back over his arm, pulled her up, and spun her around with skill. She laughed breathlessly. It was really fun.
“I haven’t danced in years,” he sighed. “I love to do it, but I’m not much of a party person.”
“I’m not, either. I’m much more at home in a kitchen than I am in a club.” She grimaced. “That’s not very modern, either, for a woman. I always feel that I should be working my way up a corporate ladder somewhere or immersing myself in higher education.”
“Would you like to be a corporate leader?”
She made a face. “Not really. Jobs like that are demanding, and you have to want them more than anything. I’m just not ambitious, I guess. Although,” she mused, “I think I might like to take a college course.”
“What sort?” he asked.
“Anthropology.”
He stopped dancing and looked down at her, fascinated. “Why?”
“I like reading about ancient humans, and how archaeologists can learn so much from skeletal material.
I go crazy over those National Geographic specials on Egypt.”