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He watched as the pretty woman, as Maggie, closed and opened her mouth but no sound came out as she stared in horror at her friend. He suddenly wanted to lay into the blonde for obviously embarrassing her. Maggie turned her eyes to him.
“Oh, God, uh, I’m so sorry. Uh. Oh, God.” Her voice stuttered and she twisted her hands on the tabletop.
He didn’t like it that she was uncomfortable. Not at all, and he didn’t question why. He stood and held out a hand. He didn’t plan it and he didn’t know what he was going to say until the words left his brain. He just wanted to get her out of this situation.
“I’ve been trying to think of a reason to ask. Now I have it. Come on.” It was, of course, a bald lie. He was certain she would say no. He did not want to dance, and he did not want to get involved with total strangers in a bar. But he didn’t analyze the relief he felt when she looked at him for several seconds then, without a word, took his hand and stood.
A sharp crack sounded as the blonde smacked the top of the table with the flat of her hand. “Hot damn, yes!”
“Oh, God. Kill me now.” The words were muttered, but Maggie was close enough to him that he heard them clearly.
He grinned at her as she looked up at him. Not too far up. He was pleased to see that she was tall. Thank Christ, he wasn’t going to break his back trying to align them for a dance. He turned without another word and lead her around the chairs and tables.
2
During
He felt the tug on his hand just before they reached the edge of the polished wooden rectangle. A slow, bluesy number was playing, the
mood hushed as they approached, couples swaying in each other’s arms. She stopped and he had no choice but to halt with her. He was pretty sure of what was coming, and the force of the disappointment was more than the situation warranted. He turned to face her and the huge, cheesy hanging disco ball that hung above the middle of the dance floor illuminated her face, prisms of light dancing across her cheeks.
That was the moment that he realized just how pretty she was. She wasn’t in-your-face gorgeous, and her use of cosmetics wasn’t obvious. There was a loveliness and a serenity that he thought was a hell of a lot more appealing than standard issue attractiveness. He wanted to run his fingers over her cheekbone to see if the skin there was as soft and warm as it looked.
He held up his hand before she could speak. “If you don’t want to dance with me, just say so. It’s okay. I’ll protect you from Godzilla back at the table.” He paused then continued because he was just that honest and he wanted her to know the whole truth. “But I asked you because I want to dance with you.”
Logan watched her tilt her head to one side and regard him for a few seconds. Then she righted it and regarded him for a few more seconds. He would have given quite a few dollars to know what she was thinking.
“So, you would have asked me to dance without Kate’s bulldozer intervention?” She raised an eyebrow but grinned. Damn, those dimples.
He slowly grinned back. “Probably not.”
Her smile widened. “I thought not. You don’t strike me as a man who dances.”
He hesitated before he replied. “I dance. I just don’t usually see it as a public activity.” Flirtatious as it might be the statement was true. He watched as she swallowed and would bet if he could see better, he would see a blush on her cheeks.
“Would you have said yes?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the honest answer.
“We’ll never know now, will we?” She tilted her head again. “What’s your name?”
“Logan.” He didn’t even consider not telling her the truth.
She nodded at him as though he had given the correct response to a question she already had the answer to. “I’m Maggie.” She paused. “But you already know that.”
Before he could fashion a reply, she tugged his hand, walked past him and drew him onto the edge of the smooth wooden floor. No coy conversation, no games or pretense with this woman. He felt a pleasant twinge in his groin as he allowed her to lead the way. He had no clue where this was going, but he was on board.
The music changed but the tempo stayed sultry and sexy. A few people left the floor and but more joined, the press of bodies carrying them further in until they were surrounded. He felt her hand tighten in his as they were jostled and he gripped her fingers more firmly, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. They stopped moving and she turned to face him just as the opening strains of The Eagles After The Thrill Is Gone began to play.
He hesitated. He needed to make sure that she was on board too. He needn’t have worried as she stepped into his space and placed her hands on his shoulders. He let out a relieved breath through his teeth and reached out to put his hands to her waist, drawing her into his arms. She took the step necessary to bring the front of their bodies into whispering distance. Tilting her face up to him, she smiled.
“Let’s dance, Logan.” And so it began.
Through the next three songs, as the melodies blended and one slow song flowed into the next, they danced. He didn’t lead her back to the table and say thanks. He didn’t say anything to her, and she didn’t say anything to him. They didn’t look into each other’s eyes. They didn’t stop moving together. All communication was sensory – smell and touch and proximity.
Logan had known more than his fair share of women. Some he had dated, a couple he had lived with, and a good many were just casual fucks. He had stopped with the casual a while ago because he finally figured out that sex for sex's sake was not for him. Call it age, call it maturity, but he would rather do without than feel empty afterward. He could not ever remember being this physically into a woman whose last name he didn’t even know.
His chin rested against her temple and he breathed her in. Warm and sweet and womanly, she had the best scent he'd ever experienced. At some point, her hands went from lightly gripping his upper arms to sliding around the back of his neck, and her fingertips on his skin felt like lightning. He tightened his grip on her waist she didn’t move away. He pulled her closer and she didn’t demur. Her breasts were soft, lightly pressed to his chest, her hips moving with his rhythm.
He slid his thigh forward and between hers as they moved, and he felt her give a gasping breath. He leaned back and nearly brought them to a halt, but she pulled him back and stood on her toes, whispering to him.
