Maureen Child - Fortune's Legacy

She snorted. “Hardly.”

“Then stay,” he said, holding out one hand. “Dance.”

She looked from his eyes to his hand and back again. “Why should I?”

He shrugged. “Music’s too good to waste?”

Her lips twitched and she looked at him with something a little closer to curiosity than animosity.

“Good point.”

“And hey,” he said, pushing the small advantage he seemed to have, “there’s always the chance that you’ll dance me into the ground.”

“There is that.”

“A small chance.”

“We’ll see about that.” She grabbed his hand and let him pull her back onto the dance floor. Then she took her place in line and fell into the steps of the dance as if it was instinctive.

Garrett couldn’t keep up.

But then, it was hard to remember dance steps when your gaze was locked on a particular woman’s behind and how it swayed in time to the music. Every cell in his body felt as if it were boiling. He didn’t care about the damn dance. He’d only wanted to prolong this moment with Kyra. There was something about her. Something that was beginning to resonate inside him. Something he really didn’t want to examine too closely.

Kyra stumbled slightly, but caught herself quickly and hoped no one else had noticed. She felt clumsy, awkward.

And it was all Garrett Wolff’s fault.

He’d surprised her, showing up at Rio’s.

Astonished her by wanting to dance.

And was now busy confusing the hell out of her by watching her so closely. She felt his gaze on her as surely as she would have his touch. Heat simmered deep inside her and made her long for the cool night air.

But there was no escaping Garrett’s company. Not unless she was willing to let him think he’d chased her off. And she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

As her brain raced and her feet struggled to keep up with the dance, the song ended and the band moved instantly into something slower, softer. The fiddle player moved to the front of the stage and scraped his bow across the instrument’s strings. A haunting melody seeped into the room and the crowd quieted as the lead singer’s voice quietly sang of love lost.

Kyra backed up, trying not to look at Garrett at all. Isa slipped away into the crowd, and Kyra was alone with the man who held the future of her career in his hands.

“Dance with me,” he said softly as more of the line dancers faded back into the crowd.

“I just did,” she said, despite the knot lodged in her throat.

“Kyra…” His gaze moved over her face, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. Holding out one hand to her, he said again, “Dance with me.”

Around them, the music swelled, the strains of the fiddle an aching, living thing in the air.

And Kyra took his hand, stepping in close to him.

She couldn’t say why. She knew she shouldn’t. Knew it would be better for both of them if she simply went back to her table with Isa and forgot all about running into Garrett. But she couldn’t do it. Caught by something dark and dangerous glittering in his pale blue eyes, she followed a stronger instinct than the one telling her to leave.

He held her right hand in his left, wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. The scent of him invaded her, making her head swim. The strength of his grip made her pulse jump. The feel of his thighs moving against hers had her closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder.

Her heartbeat quickened and something hot and thick moved through her veins.

Music filled the air and swept through her senses, making everything seem sharper, clearer, hotter. She felt as if she were quivering, poised on the very lip of a precipice. But she couldn’t see the edge of the cliff and didn’t know what waited for her at the bottom.

All she knew for sure was her life had just taken another turn for the weird.

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