“Are you published?”
“Time to switch partners,” Marissa announced.
Whew, saved by the rotation. Arden had planned to attend several dance classes, but she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. The men seemed nice, but she didn’t like the forced nature of the experience. Also, there was a sense of desperation in the air, both from the men and women who were on the lookout for a significant other. It was a not-so-pleasant reminder that Arden was in the same situation. Would she ever find anyone who liked her for her rather than her family’s prestige? It didn’t help matters that Arden was a New York Times Bestselling Author. From the outside looking in, it probably seemed like she had it all put together. It just went to show that appearances were often deceiving. She’d toyed with the idea of pretending to be someone else, but she didn’t want to enter a relationship on the pretense of passing herself off as something she wasn’t.
As she moved to the next partner, a guy from across the room caught her attention. He was a little over six feet tall with an athletic build. He was strikingly handsome with thick golden hair that had just the right amount of wave. His stylish glasses gave him an understated, intelligent look. He was dressed simply in khaki pants, loafers, and a blue, short-sleeve polo that showcased his tanned arms and lean muscles. The guy must’ve felt her gaze because he offered a slight smile before ducking his head and turning his attention to his dance partner—a peppy-looking brunette with a wide smile. The woman was obviously into the guy. She gazed at him with a googly eyed expression that might’ve been comical if the woman didn’t look so desperate. Maybe the guy was into her too. Arden was taken aback by the hot shard of jealousy that jabbed her.
“Hello, darling,” her next partner drawled as he pulled her into his arms, holding her much too close for comfort. The guy’s cologne was so strong that it tickled Arden’s throat. She swallowed to keep from coughing.
He ogled her. “I’m Riley.”
“Arden,” she clipped.
“I’ll bet you’d like for me to take you out sometime.”
She huffed out a chuckle. “Not hardly.”
His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong? You don’t like what you see?”
The guy was a muscle monkey who probably lived in a gym. He was good-looking—the type who thought all women should fall at his feet.
She grunted. “Let’s just get through the dance.”
“Whatever you say,” he smirked.
“Time to learn the next sequence,” Marissa said loudly.
Arden was grateful when the baboon released her. The class watched as Marissa went through the steps with her partner a few times before encouraging them to try it.
The muscle monkey seemed reluctant to continue dancing now that Arden had turned him down. He kept looking around and scoping out other candidates. His eyes landed on the pretty brunette, who’d been dancing with the blond guy. She’d moved to another partner, as had the blond. Arden looked over at him. He was dancing with a middle-aged woman. The woman said something that caused the guy to laugh. Arden was impressed with how he was giving the woman his full attention.
When Marissa gave the signal to switch, Arden practically ran from the muscle monkey to the next partner. She moved from one person to the next, wondering if she would get to dance with the blond before the class ended.
Finally, they were paired together. Her skin tingled when he reached for her hand and pulled her into his arms. “Hello,” he began. His touch was light and comfortable, and he kept just the right amount of space between them.
“Hello,” she responded. “My name’s Arden.”
“Crew.”
He was even better looking up close than from afar. In fact, he was too handsome with clean-cut features, sun-kissed skin, and chiseled jaw. She grinned inwardly, thinking of how she and Olivia often joked that they both had a problem with dating men who were better looking than they were. (If only she’d taken that advice and stayed away from Hector.) Olivia’s husband Flynn was easy on the eyes, but at least he was rugged. Crew was more on the elegant side—a James Bond rather than a GI Joe. She was struck by the purity in his liquid blue eyes. Wowza, he was dazzling.
“It’s the zit, isn’t it?”
She jerked, heat filling her cheeks. “I’m sorry?”
A corner of his lip lifted in a crooked grin. “The zit on my chin. It’s all you can see.”
She burst out laughing. “Actually, I hadn’t noticed.” It was admirable how Crew didn’t take himself too seriously.
He studied her as if trying to determine if she were sincere.
“Truly,” she reaffirmed. The zit was microscopic.
At that, he relaxed.
“Are you from here, Crew?”
“The Bay area.” His manner of speech was neutral. No trace of an accent.
