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“Move your feet, art dork,” I instruct her. “One between mine, the other on the outside. Okay, good. Now, see the way your hips move?” I drop my hands down to her waist to demonstrate where her body should be. “See how easy we can get closer without this feeling too awkward?”
Her face heats like a flaming cherry, but she’s actually smiling now.
That must count for something.
“Don’t tell me,youwere a dancer in high school?” she teases, but there’s a breathy note in her tone that says she’s impressed.
“I have a wide range of talents,” I tell her. “And yes, I danced—one of the few things my mother insisted on. According to her, it’s a rite of passage for every young man to learn ballroom dance. She’s old-fashioned like that, I suppose. All part of being a Rory. Your heart belongs to the last century.”
“How’s this?” Laughing, she looks up at me with a small frown in her eyes and locks her arms around my neck.
“Better. More importantly, you’re moving with me like I’m not made of toxic waste. Progress.” I flatten my hand against the small of her back, drawing her in closer.
I’m greedier than I should be, tracing her skin with my fingers.
Her breathing picks up, but she’s still looking at me.
We’re suspended in our own little moment, this bubble of make-believe where being lovers feels natural. Not like two people pretending to be madly in love.
When she moistens her lips, the tip of her tongue just visible, I move faster, lightly grinding my palm to her skin.
Hell, maybe jazz was the wrong choice.
The sharp, upbeat sounds fuel the rising fire in my blood, the drumming urge that screams,kiss her, you fuck.
And maybe she wouldn’t mind it right now if I did—she’s not moving away, not doing anything, maybe not even breathing as her arms tighten around my neck.
My lips hover over hers.
A low moan slips out of her that makes me fucking feral.
I’m about to move in and claim what’s killing me—
Then the door opens.
Juniper breaks away so fast I have to help her catch her balance so she doesn’t fall on the floor.
It’s Archer this time.
Obviously, it’s Archer, glowering at me like I’ve broken a sacred commandment, with Colt standing partially behind him.
Shit.
Though maybe it’s for the best, considering I was atrociously close to feasting on my not-fiancée for dinner.
I switch off the jazz—what the hell was I thinking?—and practically speed walk Juniper out of the room.
“Time to go. You’ve already met the funny brother today,” I tell her as I pull her past Archer and his unblinking scowl. “Trust me, you don’t want to meet the devil.”
“But—”
“But our business here is done. If anything else comes up, you know where to find me. Keep me posted on that dinner.”
For a second, I feel a little bad about throwing her out like this, but it’s for her own damn good—and for mine.
I close the door and turn around to meet Archer’s glare from my office.
“Colt, how’s it hanging? Summer treating you well?” I give my nephew my best attempt at a smile. Not like he wanted to be mixed up with any of this.
