Latin American was her favourite, but she was happy doing any form of dance. Tonight of all nights, it would have helped if she’d been able to lose herself in the music. In fact, it was difficult not to keep tapping her feet to the beat as she sat out in the courtyard, chatting with a group of Tony’s friends. It was even more difficult not to think about Fletcher being hot to trot with Heidi Bergman on the dance floor.
She didn’t want to see them so she didn’t look; though, out of sight, out of mind, was not working too well for her. Nevertheless, her determination to concentrate on being responsive to the company she was in, had her laughing at one of Angelo’s jokes so hard, she wasn’t aware of Fletcher’s approach to their corner of the courtyard.
‘I won the bet, Tammy,’ Angelo said, winking triumphantly at her.
For a moment she was confused over what he was talking about, thinking the comment was somehow linked to the joke he’d just told. Then Fletcher’s voice sent a frisson of shock down her spine.
‘Pardon me for interrupting the jollity,’ he said in a tone that smacked of good humour but had a slight edge to it. ‘May I steal your partner for a dance, Angelo?’
‘Be glad if you would. I’m sure Tammy would enjoy dancing with someone who can,’ Angelo said straight out with an invitational gesture.
‘Oh, truly! It doesn’t matter!’ she cried in pleading protest, her body instantly abuzz with rioting hormones at the prospect of close physical contact with Fletcher.
‘Go on, have fun,’ Angelo urged, a mischievous grin on his face.
‘You owe me this dance, Tamalyn,’ Fletcher claimed, arrogantly demanding her compliance.
She wheeled on him, chin up in proud defiance, eyes flaring a fierce challenge. ‘No, I don’t! I don’t owe you anything!’
‘The salsa at Celine’s wedding?’ he reminded her, one black eyebrow raised in counter-challenge. ‘You ducked out on it to look after a sick child.’
‘That was then,’ she argued. This is now and you’ve got Heidi Bergman as your partner.
‘Don’t be churlish, Tamalyn. A promise is a promise.’
Churlish!
Her cheeks burned as the realisation hit her she must have sounded like that to everyone in earshot.
He reached out and took her hand in an iron grip. ‘Come on,’ he commanded, his eyes boring into hers with ruthless intent, promising he wasn’t about to go away, no matter what she said or did.
Short of making a horribly embarrassing scene, it was impossible not to go with him. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she threw at Angelo who looked vastly amused by the situation.
‘Take your time. No hurry,’ he blithely replied.
The strong hand pulling hers forced her to fall into step with Fletcher as he led her off towards the dance floor in the middle of the restaurant. Seething with resentment at his alpha male domination act, she muttered, ‘I didn’t promise you anything and you know it.’
‘I did. To dance you off your feet.’ He slanted her a look that blazed with unshakeable purpose. ‘And I’m in the mood to do it.’
‘Why?’ she snapped. ‘Can’t Heidi satisfy you?’
‘Not with you stuck in my mind.’
The savage retort took her breath away. A treacherous pleasure raced through her. She tried to put a stop to it with the obvious truth that he didn’t want her stuck in his mind, but there was a very primitive satisfaction in knowing that not even the beautiful and sexy Heidi Bergman could displace whatever he felt for her. Though it wouldn’t do her any good since he didn’t like acknowledging it.
The rock music being played came to an end and many couples were leaving the dance floor for a breather as Fletcher virtually pulled her towards it. Heidi was amongst them, being led to the open bar by a man Tammy didn’t recognise—a guest she didn’t know. Had Fletcher seized the break from his chosen partner to seek her out or had he manipulated it? How much pulling power did she have?
Tantalising thought…
‘Too late,’ she said, waving at the departing couples, wondering what he would do next to keep her with him without music to dance to.
‘No. It’s perfect timing,’ he claimed, shooting her a glittering glance that denied her any escape.
He raised his arm, apparently a pre-arranged signal to the DJ who obligingly announced, ‘I’ve had a request for a few Latin American numbers, starting off with the salsa.’
‘You organised this?’ she cried, stunned at the extent he had gone to in order to have her to himself for a few minutes.
Again the arched eyebrow, challenging her to perform for him. ‘Did you lie about its being your favourite?’
‘No. I’ll dance you off your feet.’
‘Do try,’ he retorted with a wolfish grin, sweeping her onto the dance floor and into his arms as the music started to pump out its seductive beat.
She did try, anger sizzling through the heat he stirred with his blatantly sexy moves. She twirled, she shimmied, she played the provocative tease to the hilt, wanting him to burn with desire for her, wanting to scorch his mind with a memory he couldn’t evict, brand it on his soul so that no other woman could ever interest him. Be damned if she’d let him find solace for his needs with other Heidi Bergmans! She’d found no solace for hers.
He more than matched everything she did, taking command with masterful expertise, bending her over his arm, his muscular thighs pressed hard against hers in support, swirling her into lifts which then forced her to slide down him in full body contact, her breasts squashing against the strong wall of his chest. And he had rhythm in spades, his feet as agile as hers, the sway of his body so animal-sexy it was mesmerising, in constant counter-challenge to hers.
The other couples cleared the floor, watching them, clapping to the beat. They were putting on a show. Tammy didn’t care who saw them. Apparently Fletcher didn’t, either. They were consumed by the dance, consumed by each other, eye contact transmitting every ounce of the passion they were putting into expressing feelings that were not going to be acknowledged any other way.
Pride forbade her to beg anything of him. He’d already made it clear that he was not here to make any commitment to a relationship with her. This—what was pounding through them, pouring between them—he probably viewed as an aberration. He still had Heidi Bergman waiting in the wings, preventing him from taking a step too far beyond the dance floor. There was only this.