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Did she have to-go containers hidden under her skirt? Or plastic bags ready to be filled?
Maybe.
Or maybe it was just bare legs and temptation.
Cocktails were served and Nikki was very happy when they brought out the shrimp. André got her an old-fashioned at the bar which she sipped carefully as she conversed with the people around her.
By the time dinner was served, she was making everyone at their table laugh.
How she did that, he had no idea.
She just put people around her at ease.
It was probably because she accepted people for who they were. She didn’t put them in a box because to her, boxes didn’t exist. People were people and it was that simple to her.
A few people got up and gave some moving speeches about why everyone should donate money.
They had a live band that started after that while they wheeled out dessert. But no one got up to dance.
The band had a female singer with a voice like velvet.
“She’s fabulous,” Nikki whispered to him and he had to agree.
“Why isn’t anyone dancing?” Nikki asked, looking around.
He put his arm along the back of her chair. “Maybe they don’t like dancing.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s stupid.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth as she smiled. It held.
God, that smile.
The things it did to him.
He sucked in a breath and darted his gaze back to her eyes, hoping she hadn’t noticed his lingering stare.
She blinked at him.
“C’mon.” She stood, shoving her chair back and his arm dropped away. She held out her hand toward him.
He stared at it.
“What?” he asked, suddenly not sure what was happening.
“We’re dancing.” She said it so confidently that he didn’t think he had a choice in the matter. He took her hand, and she tugged him towards the dance floor.
The band switched to a different song as they approached, and the singer pointed at the two of them like they had planned it this way.
“Twirl me, Professor,” Nikki said.
She swung their connected hands to her left, his right and he took over. He twirled her under his arm and her skirt flared out around her like she was floating across the floor. Then he pulled her in and caught her waist with his other hand. They eased into a slow waltz.
“I love Billie Holiday,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.
“Is there anything you don’t know about music?” he asked, not hiding how fascinated he found her endless fount of facts and trivia.
She gave a slight shrug. “Probably. But if there is something I don’t know, I’ll find it. And then that’ll be mine too.”
