Chapter 27
Gwen
As we waltzed to the sounds of classical music, I felt like Cinderella – not the part where she walks home in rags, but theotherpart where she dances with the prince.
The Saint Nicholas Ball was beyond anything I'd ever imagined. The event hadtwobands – one for modern music and a string quartet for classical. All night, they'd been alternating between sets, switching every half-hour or so to give the dancers some time to adjust.
I was dizzy with champagne and warm from exertion. Turns out, Drake was a wonderful dancer – and not just with the modern stuff either.
As he whirled me around the floor, I just had to ask, "So where'd you learn this?"
"To waltz?" He smiled. "My grandma insisted on it."
"So she taught you?"
"Nah," he laughed. "They sent me to lessons."
I snickered. "I bet you hated that."
"You want the truth?"
"Definitely."
He grinned. "I kind of liked it."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. There was this girl I liked, Maggie Zebrowski. And as long as I gotheras a partner, it wasn't so bad."
Listening, I was almost jealous of this Maggie person. "So where is she now?" I asked. "Do you know?"
"Nope." His gazed warmed in the dim light of the silver chandeliers. "Don't know, don't care."
"But why not?"
"Becauseshe'snot the one I'm holding."
My heart swelled with pleasure. "Good thing," I teased. "Or you might see a big ol' catfight."
He looked intrigued at the thought. "You promise?"
At the moment, I felt like I could promise him anything. His hands were strong and sure. His wavy blond hair looked roguish with his tux. And there was something in his eyes that was making it hard for me to look away, even if thisdidmake it kind of difficult to dance.
As I'd learned during my pre-event research, every year for the past seventy years, the Saint Nicholas Ball was held in the largest ballroom of the area's fanciest hotel.
The event was a huge local tradition, and I was basking in its extravagance. In the beginning, I'd felt a little intimidated, seeing all of these upscale people looking like they naturally belonged even ifIdidn't.
But Drake – he'd seemed perfectly comfortable, and it hadn't takentoolong before his easiness had rubbed off, making me feel like just one of the crowd even if my dancing was nowhere as fine as his.
Not only had I never taken lessons, I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. Mostly, I just followed Drake's lead and let the champagne do the rest.
I'd also been a little worried about my dress, wondering at its skimpiness, but I saw at least a dozen other dresses that were shorter than mine along with plenty of floor-length ballgowns, too.
The variety was nice even if my own dress felt just a little bit naughty.
Nearly all of the men wore tuxes, and I was soon swept off into a different world – a fantasy world filled with all of those movers and shakers my mom had always raved about.
This posed an interesting question.Was Drake some sort of shaker?I knew he must've been relatively comfortable because his house alone would've cost a small fortune.
