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What the hell. He was already dancing. He could say stupidly romantic things to his wife. “I’d prefer to be Fred Astaire and call you Ginger.”
A bead of sweat on his neck dripped from his collar to his hairline when he leaned forward to rotate his arm. When he reversed course to stand up and hop to his left, the sweat dribbled back down between his shoulder blades. He should have taken his suit jacket off—or at least loosened his tie—before attempting this hoedown.
“I can do anything you can do—backward and in high heels,” she said with a laugh.
His cockiness caught up with him. Mrs. Biadala didn’t look nearly so amused this time as he tripped over his own feet and stumbled into her. “Better me than your wife,” she said. He supposed she was right, given Vivian’s pregnancy, but Vivian would’ve laughed, and he might even have laughed with her.
He got back on track when they had to step back and his clap was perfectly timed with the rest of the dancers. By the time the music stopped, Karl had figured the dance out and was no longer making a fool of himself. A wasted lesson, because he never planned on dancing the Electric Slide ever again.
“That was the worst four minutes of my life,” he said as he tucked Vivian under his arm and steered her toward the door before she heard another song she wanted to dance to. He snatched her purse from her chair when they walked past their table, not willing to slow down. Whatever song the deejay had put on next was obviously another line dance, as the instigators of such tomfoolery and their victims were lined up in rows again.
Vivian turned her face up to him, impish, sweaty and beautiful. “I hate to break it to you, but you only danced for three minutes. Was it really so bad?”
Her warm, soft body fit perfectly against his and he leaned down to innocently kiss the top of her head while thinking of how slowly he would peel off her clothes once they got back to his apartment. And how she’d smile at him, but it would be a slow, private smile with melting heat in her eyes. “No. I’d do it again.” He stooped a bit so he could kiss the top of her ear and whisper, “But if you tell anyone that—especially my sisters—I’ll deny it until I have no breath left in my body.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THEY HAD DRIVEN to the wedding separately, so Karl had to wait—aroused and cold as the sweat from dancing evaporated off his body—in the parking garage for Vivian to drive into her spot. He didn’t want to risk her changing her mind between the wedding and the apartment; if he could have towed her car behind his, he would have.
God, she looked hot getting out of her car, her face glowing with perspiration and an annoyed scowl on her face as she pulled strands of her hair out of her pink lipstick. “I swear, every light was red by the time I got to it. Do you have some secret machine in your car to change lights to green when you pass by, like they say cops do?”
Then she smiled at him and held out her hand, and he didn’t care how long he’d been waiting in the parking garage, so long as she was near him. “Does it increase my chances of getting lucky tonight if I say yes?”
If a yes means you’ll move back in with me, I’ll invent such a device and have it installed on any car you might possibly drive.
“You’re already getting lucky tonight.” She pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, her perfume overwhelming the stale air and exhaust, and her presence drowning out the cares of the world. Then she walked away from him toward the elevator, their fingers still entwined, tugging him behind her.
Determined to make good use of a slow elevator ride up to his apartment, Karl swept Vivian’s hair off her neck and kissed the knobs of her spine until the lace of her dress impeded his progress. Undeterred, he kissed his way around her neckline to lick salt off her neck. She tasted better than any meal, and the soft murmurs she made sounded better than any opera.
Her dexterous fingers danced down his chest, unbuttoning his coat and slipping under his suit jacket to his belt buckle. She slipped her hand under his waistband and it was all of his janitor’s-closet fantasies come true, complete with the physics problem of Vivian not being nearly tall enough. Even with her in heels, he couldn’t quite position himself so that he could keep kissing her and she could keep her magical fingers tickling his balls. Karl settled for nibbling on the top of her ear while she panted into his neck.
