He motioned to the floor. “There are any number of men out there who would seize the opportunity.”
“None of them are you.”
The sentence was simple in construction. Five small words. But it seemed a confession. Her words carried a force neither of them had expected.
She swallowed, her throat visibly constricting. “What I meant, Harrison—it would be unseemly for a newly married woman to take to the ballroom floor with a man other than her husband. We would not like to draw suspicion, would we?”
“Of course not.” He lowered his gaze, staring down at his feet as he gathered his thoughts. Meeting her eyes, he summoned his most dignified tone. “Very well, I will submit to this torture. But only once.”
She nibbled her lower lip, drawing his eye to that plump spot in the middle he most wanted to taste. “I have a solution…a compromise, if you will. Shall we find a private spot where I might tutor you before we take to the floor?”
“That would be acceptable.”
Blast it, he should’ve saidNo. He should’ve held his ground. After all, he was only here on a mission.
But when she looked at him like that, it was damned hard to remember she was a woman he wasn’t supposed to trust.
Wasn’t supposed to care for.
Wasn’t supposed to want.
She took her hand in his, and he led her from the ballroom. They settled upon a small, uncluttered study, a secluded space not far from the spot where the musicians had set up their chairs and stands. Muted notes drifted into the room.
“There now, we’re alone.” She glanced down at the delicate shoes covering her toes. “Perhaps I should have selected a pair of workman’s boots.”
“That would have been the prudent choice, given the circumstances.”
“At least you’re smiling now,” she said. “You looked rather like a man marching off to his own execution a few moments ago.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I will bear your words of caution in mind.” Warmth darkened her eyes to a rich cocoa brown. “Now, let’s get to work, shall we?”
“If this will be the end of the subject, yes.”
“Now, take my hand.” She frowned at his hesitation. “You do know how to position yourself for the waltz, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Even I was able to grasp that concept.”
Taking her hand in his, he lightly placed his other hand at her waist. A twinge of awareness shot through him. Damn the luck!
“Now, let’s think about footwork. It’s quite simple, really. Just count to three.One-two-three. One-two-three.”
She touched her toes to his, nudging him along. He followed along, focusing intently on the rhythm.
“That’s good,” she said, gracing him with a smile. Her hand rested on his shoulder. “A little faster now.”
“I’ve all the grace of a newly born ox,” he said with a chuckle.
“Might I ask how you know how graceful an ox is?” Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “I cannot imagine you have much call to observe the species in action.”
“Call it an instinct,” he said, laughing again.
“If you insist.” Those brown eyes of hers drew him in like a powerful magnet. A man could look into that soft, warm gaze for a very long time.
For a lifetime.
Her mouth softened into a smile, enticing beyond all reason. Her hand slid over his shoulder, toward his throat, then brushed the edge of his jaw. If she intended to tempt him, she was doing a damned fine job of it.
