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They all seemed delighted to meet Sally, although one or two of the women scrutinised her with surreptitious, sharp eyed glances.
All around them, the party atmosphere gained momentum. Corks popped and champagne began to flow infrothy gushes. Bottles of red and white wine were opened and glasses filled. Silver trays appeared, laden with canapés so dainty and colourful they were miniature works of art.
When a strikingly attractive, dark haired woman in a strapless emerald green gown rushed, arms extended, to greet Logan, Sally wasn’t surprised to learn that she was his sister. Carissa’s husband, Geoff, a tall man with balding ginger hair and a nice smile, was also introduced.
‘I’ve been dying to meet you, Sally,’ Carissa said. ‘You’re just what the doctor ordered.’ Before Sally had time to decipher this comment, Carissa went on, ‘And I must congratulate you. Teaching my brother to dance is a magnificent feat. On a par with putting a man on Mars.’
Logan coughed nervously. ‘It might be wise to hold back on the congratulations until you’re sure I’ve earned them.’
Watching Logan, Sally caught the quick flash of fear in his eyes. He turned to look out at the huge, shining expanse of the dance floor and she saw the jerky movement of his throat. Reaching for his hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze.
She was rewarded by his smile, especially for her, and she might have basked in its warmth, if everyone around them hadn’t started turning towards the ballroom’s entrance. The babble of voices rose briefly, on a wave of excitement and then fell in hushed awe as a tall, raven haired woman with alabaster skin, revealed in vast quantities by a stunning, ruby-red gown, entered the room on the arm of a small and balding, bespectacled man.
The Air Force concert band trumpeted a fanfare.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ a deep, syrupy voice, vaguely familiar to Sally, announced. ‘Please welcome the Chairman of the Hospital Board, Mr. Rupert Sinclair-Jones, and our special guest of honour, Australia’s favourite star of dancing, Ms Diana Devenish!’
Applause broke out as Diana Devenish sailed into the ballroom with the haughty dignity of Cleopatra arriving in Rome.
Logan glanced at Sally, waggled his eyebrows and gave her a nervously lopsided grin.
Leaning close to him, she said, ‘You’ll be fine, Logan. Anyway, tonight’s supposed to be about raising money for very sick children. The dancing’s just a gimmick.’
He nodded, but he didn’t look entirely convinced. Sally looked again at Diana Devenish and noted her perfect deportment and her dancer’s body, willow slender, with a swanlike neck and long limbs. A chill skittered down her spine and she felt swamped by an overwhelming sense of responsibility for Logan’s performance. Suddenly,shewas the one who was churned up and scared.
Was I too casual about this? Should I have asked more questions?She hoped, fervently, that she hadn’t let Logan down.
Until this evening, she hadn’t really appreciated the huge scale of this ball. She wished she’d insisted that Logan had a dozen lessons from a fully qualified professional ballroom teacher.
But it was too late now. Too late for more lessons and too late for regrets.
The syrupy voiced MC – a popular radio announcer, Carissa informed Sally – welcomed everyone and introduced the Lord Mayor, who made a more formal speech of welcome. He reminded everyone about the charity raffle, told them how much money had been raised and read out the names of the highest donors.
This was greeted by enthusiastic applause and when the MC repeated the names of the top three benefactors and announced that they would be dancing with Diana Devenish thisevening, the applause became thunderous and accompanied by cheers and whistles.
‘See,’ Sally whispered. ‘You’re already a star.’
But Logan looked pale and distinctly ill. He glanced at his wristwatch and sighed and she knew he would rather be anywhere than here.
The music started up – a contemporary number, but with a waltzing beat – and almost immediately, couples moved onto the dance floor.
Sally turned to Logan. ‘Do you recognise the beat?’
He managed a grin. ‘How could I miss the old one-two-three, one-two-three?’ To her surprise, he reached for her hand. ‘Come for a whirl out there,’ he said. ‘I need a warm up while there’s a crowd and no one’s watching.’
‘Good idea,’ she whispered and next minute, she was in Logan’s arms again, waltzing.
?CHAPTER TWENTY
IT should have been fun. They’d done this so many times together, but everything was different tonight. The glittering lights overhead, the big band sound of the music, the superfinewool of Logan’s dinner jacket beneath Sally’s hand. His aftershave. His tanned throat above his crisp white collar.
Logan. So gorgeous. And Sally so deeply and hopelessly in love with him.
Don’t think about that now. Concentrate on the dancing.
He smiled at her. ‘Am I gliding?’
‘Like an ice skater,’ she said.
