Saved by the Salsa

by Barbara Barrett

He grabbed the undersides of his shirt collar and tugged. “Despite my parents’ overwhelming debut as dance instructors, I still seem to have my own following.”

  “All female, I presume.”

  “Yes, well, the ladies wanted to tell me how much they’d enjoyed the classes.”

  “And watching your tail end go into high gear on the dance floor.”

  He lifted a brow. “You speak from personal experience?”

  She parted with a knowing smile. “You do look pretty good from behind.”

  “I do my best.”

  “How many asked for your phone number?”

  “Lacey! You’re not jealous?”

  Widening her eyes, she replied, “I already have your number, Jack Dalton.”

  He pulled a trigger finger, as if to say, “Touché!” Out loud, he said, “Ms. Rogers, our job here is done. Ready to head out?”

  She hadn’t thought about her ankle for some time. Plus, she couldn’t wait to get home to work on the design concept, thanks to Marcia Dalton’s unintentional help. She’d worry about how to bring Jack up to speed later.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You told them about Project Veronica?”

  Lacey and Jack made it as far as his car before she broke down and confessed. She gulped air and steeled herself for the rest of his reaction. “I had to say something. You were right about the way they hone in on you and apply the pressure until they know all.”

  “Ah, no!”

  She hurried to say, “They were so effusive, thanking me for letting them teach the class, and seemed so proud of how they’d done, I felt I had to say something. So I told them we were using the class as a way to learn about baby boomers.”

  “Uh-huh. And they immediately surmised that meant Project Veronica?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Enlighten me. How did they make the leap?

  How to explain? One minute she’d been on top of the situation, confident she could handle their questions, and the next, it was like they bored their way through her resolve like a woodpecker on a hollow tree. “I’m not sure. I didn’t mean to tell them anything, but they kept smiling and looking concerned and asking increasingly less innocuous questions.”

  He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Say no more. Been there. More times than I care to remember.”

  The contact did not reassure her, although it kicked her body temp up a couple degrees. “You understand?”

  “Perfectly. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

  Despite her body’s growing awareness of him, she drew a relieved breath and chuckled. “Now I understand what you meant when you said they swoop in and take over.”

  “I should’ve been there sooner. They can pull their routine on me, but you’re a stranger.”

  “Thanks.” Made her feel so much better. Not.

  He reached for her hand again and this time held it. “You know what I meant.”

  She nodded, his touch leaving her momentarily bereft of speech. Then she remembered. “Actually, their prying gave me an idea. It was just what I needed to salt away the design concept.”

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot her a questioning glance. “You didn’t tell them, did you? We’ll never hear the end of this, if you did.”

  “I told them their comments had caused me to think of something I needed to investigate further.”

  “And?”

  “I diverted their attention with the luncheon invitation. Then you showed up.”

  “They dropped the inquisition?” His tone held more than a little skepticism.

  She was losing patience with this discussion. “Can we let this go? I’ve confessed, apologized and assured you all is well.”

  Jack remained silent.

  “Besides,” she added, “what I really want to tell you about was the idea they gave me.” She explained his mother’s comment about boomers’ changing lifestyles.

  He still didn’t react.

  “Don’t you see? We combine the idea of boomers constantly changing and reinventing themselves with what Janice told me about boomers needing to stay active and involved. Change plus Purpose. Don’t you love it? Two simple themes pull the whole design concept together. We’re going to finish this project on time, after all.”

  Jack stared ahead at the roadway. The rain had discouraged traffic this evening, but the occasional oncoming vehicle spattered water across his windshield. The interior of the car remained silent except for those whooshes of spray. “Change plus Purpose?” He repeated the phrase a few more times.

  Surely he understood? Of course, he did. He was sharp. But did he like it? Or worse, did he see problems she’d overlooked? She had to know. “What do you think?”

  “Patience. You gave me all of three words to consider. I need time to absorb them.”

  He was bluffing. He didn’t understand one thing about it. Then he surprised her. “Change suggests we lay out the entire community to accommodate modifications as they’re needed. Modifications to individual home sites, to segments of the community, and to the community itself. Not unlike typical planning efforts, only more would be added.” Now he was pontificating.

  She let out a drawn-out breath. Should have known. Not only had his creative genius absorbed her nebulous thoughts, it was already busy embellishing them.

  She squeezed his hand. “Very good.”

  He smiled at the acknowledgement. “Purpose is a little more difficult to grasp.” He angled his head, considering. “They want to continue to live active lives. So at least one room in each house should be for hobbies or other activities.”

  “Right! Only ‘hobbies’ is a dated term. We have to come up with something else. I’ve been playing around with new language since I talked to Janice. You saw some of it in the draft outline I showed you. Things like lifelong learning, amenity centers, and recreational enrichment.”

  “Which are only now starting to make sense. Your suggestions were interesting, but they seemed to be more a treatise on the lifestyles of baby boomers than specific design ideas.”

  “Enter the genius of Jack Dalton. You’re a better designer than me.”

  “Well, what do you know? You’re actually admitting as much?”

  “You’ve had a few more years than me to develop your talent. I’m more the conceptualist right now. My design skills will come, with time.”

  “Some admission. Our partnership seems to have advanced a notch.”

  As he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, the tires sloshed through several inches of water on the pavement. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a personal taxi to your door, Ms. Rogers. I’m not letting you stumble around in a mini-lake.”

  Secretly delighted, Lacey debated whether to protest, but the thought of being back in his arms again was too tempting. “Can you stay a while?” she asked, then quickly added, “We can continue this conversation while the idea’s still fresh.”

  Jack turned off the ignition and relaxed into the seat. “Sure you’re not going to take advantage of my weakened state?”

  “Weakened?” she laughed. “I’m the one with the bum ankle.”

  “After I carry you all the way to your apartment, it may take a while to catch my breath.”

  “I take your breath away?” She couldn’t resist the pun. “Wow.”

  He seemed to stiffen. “You sure did last week. I don’t know what came over me at the site. Maybe the country air.”

  “Or maybe the adrenaline rush from escaping the bull?”

  “If Jean hadn’t called, panicked by the arrival of my parents…”

  “…who knows what our friendly bull might have witnessed?”

  “Yeah. Earlier, we started to talk about what might’ve happened, then I remembered the Salsa class.” He left his statement hanging, as if waiting for her to take the lead. When she remained silent, he went on to say, “Should I apologize?”

  “For what? For starting something out in that field or for n
ot finishing it?” She kept her tone somewhere between teasing and testing, realizing this was like a lovers’ game of chicken, a question of who blinked first. Each of them wanted to know what the other would’ve done and neither wanted to be the first to say.

  The rain beat steadily on the car roof while one stream of water after another sluiced down the windshield. The semi-darkness inside the car separated them from the world outside. They were alone, just the two of them. Lacey had called the question. Would one of them answer?

  The air around them sizzled with more electricity than the lightning outside.

  “I was out of my mind to come on to you, right there in the open. But I was also out of my mind from repressing the urge.”

  In a softer voice, she said, “I was just as busy ripping off your clothes as you were mine.”

  “How do we get past the, uh, incident?”

  “Do you want to get past it?”

  He hesitated, as if searching for just the right response. “God, Lacey. Don’t do this to me. Don’t tempt me to finish what we started. Or—”

  “Or what?” Her voice had gone husky, almost catching on those two words.

  “Or this.” He pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips. Nothing else seemed to matter, other than giving in to the swell of desire growing since their entrapment underneath the tree trunk.

  This was not the kind of kiss she gave him after she returned from interviewing Janice Collier. Nor was it spawned from the relief of having outrun a bull. This kiss was fueled by pure passion. The ferocity with which his lips pressed hers nearly melted her bones, while his arms encased her as if sentencing her to life imprisonment. Outside, the heavens burst, accompanied by the low boom of approaching thunder and rapidly increased flickers of lightning.

  Her lips returned his kiss with equal enthusiasm as she laced her fingers behind his neck, straining to get even closer. The rich smell of man, a man who’d recently expended much energy dancing, hit her nostrils, unleashing her own long dormant pheromones.

  The sounds of heavy breathing and whimpered moans competed with Nature’s fury outside. The strain from days…and nights…of suppressing their mutual attraction broke like the storm raging around them.

  Hands greedy for familiarity roamed over shoulders, backs, thighs—touching, rubbing, gripping. Jack’s were the first to move under clothing as his fingers slid up Lacey’s spine and unhooked her bra. His splayed palm massaged the area between her shoulder blades, curved down and around to the front to slip under the bottom of her bra and cup a breast.

  She didn’t realize until then how much she’d been anticipating his touch. There.

  He pulled his lips away from hers long enough to murmur, “You feel so good.”

  The rubbing and squeezing continued, escalated. She pushed into him, willing him to claim more of her flesh.

  But Jack seemed in no mood to linger. He sought her mouth again, crushing his lips against hers with even more force than before, thrusting his tongue between hers, flicking, probing, demanding. His kiss was urgent, determined. Though aware she could hold her own against his insistence, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew doing so meant crossing some as yet undefined line. Little remained of better sense, only the knowledge she was about to jump into the abyss, willingly releasing herself to his spell.

  One steely arm pulled her deeper into his embrace while the other left her breast and skimmed down her leg, then under the hem of her skirt, burning its way up the inside of her thigh.

  Someone moaned. Her. She had no idea the whimper would slip out until it materialized in a coaxing, pleading tone. As his hand wandered further up her leg, she could no longer remain still. She arched her back, sensing her body grow wet with arousal as his hand found her most intimate region.

  He leaned toward the door and locked it. Taking his lips away from hers again, he muttered, “You okay with this?” His voice had grown as dusky as a whiskey-throated cabaret singer.

  “Yes, God yes! There’s no turning back now.” She fumbled for his zipper. Finding it, she let her hand explore the territory. Hard. Rock hard. Oh. My. Intrigued, impressed, she gave in to the urgency of the moment and pulled the zipper down.

  “I’ll take it from here.” He retrieved a small packet from one of his pockets, He freed the bulge in his pants and stuck on the condom. His speed and agility surprised and titillated her as he pulled down her panties and entered her. Each thrust went deeper and faster, sending her on a wave of euphoria beyond her experience.

  This wasn’t lovemaking. She knew and accepted the realization. She didn’t want love or commitment. But she did want to find out what sex with Jack would be like, and now she was. Not far off, a bright bolt of lightning zapped the ground, followed shortly by a heavy explosion of thunder. Neither could compete with the earthshaking impact of their coupling.

  Spent, he finally moved away, laid his head back against the seat.

  While she tried to resume normal breathing, Lacey attempted to gauge his reaction. Would this be one of those “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am” scenes? She’d experienced a few of those in the past, but she hadn’t really cared. She herself wasn’t above collecting men for her own sexual gratification. But she wanted something more from Jack. No undying declaration of love, of course, but something. The sex had been so spectacular, he was so spec…different, their relationship deserved more.

  Finally, in what sounded like a gasping breath, he said, “You should supply a guy with oxygen for…afterwards.”

  “I need some myself.”

  He turned to face her, the low-beam parking lot lights illuminating a portion of his face. “That was unreal.”

  “I haven’t made out in a car since high school.”

  “I never have. True confession. But seeing you over there, looking so luscious despite your ankle, I couldn’t resist.”

  His words were kind of sweet. Especially for Jack. “I like your thinking.”

  “I don’t normally—”

  “No need to explain. It was what it was. Highly enjoyable.”

  He cocked his head, studying her. “You, uh, don’t want to talk about it?”

  “You want a review? Or a rating?” she chuckled.

  “Well, no, but…”

  “I already crossed my personal no-relationships-with-coworkers line with you, Jack. No looking back, no regrets. I don’t expect anything more.”

  He hesitated momentarily, then asked, “Why’d you cross it?”

  She considered her answer. She’d already put herself out there. Should she go further? Oh, hell. “Hold on to your ego, but you intrigue me. I had to find out what it would be like to, uh, do it with you.”

  “And?”

  “C’mon, Jack. I just told you plenty. More than enough for now.”

  “Still more to learn?”

  Though the shadows hid his expression, she was sure he’d raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. How ’bout you?”

  “God, Lacey. After that, I could go to bed with you for a week and only come up occasionally for air. But we’ve got a project to finish.”

  “Right. You want the title of principal and I want to make a name for myself. We shouldn’t risk damaging either by continuing.”

  He reached for a strand of her hair, curved it behind an ear. “Even touching you makes my blood boil. You have to be the strong one.”

  How could she be sentry, when his fingers had just reawakened every one of her nerve endings? One time hadn’t been enough. She wasn’t sure she could ever get enough of Jack Dalton. “Okay.” Fool!

  They called it a night after Jack carried her upstairs. No further talk about what it all meant. No discussion of Jack staying the night. Whether they were both a little shy about testing the waters, exhausted or worried about the project, they agreed to work apart the next day. Jack would revisit the site. Since she couldn’t very well tramp around the countryside with an injured ankle, she would remain at her apartment and begin turning that rough outline into
the concept piece, thanks to his mother’s contribution.

  As Lacey showered, her mind kept replaying the scene in the car. None of her fantasizing about having sex with Jack had ever included a scene in the middle of a rainstorm, on the front seat of a car, sitting up, no less, and fully clothed. It happened quickly, because they were both anxious to get to the end game. She’d never experienced such furious physical interaction, and yet there’d been a certain gentleness to it. No tearing off clothing, no acrobatics, no biting, scratching or pinching. Been there too many times before. Not her thing.

  As she toweled off, she remembered the feel of his hands on her—experienced hands, rubbing and kneading without hurting, rough enough to remind her this was a man enjoying, exploring her. In a word, masterful. Though she’d been sated, the wonderful wash and rumble of orgasm overtaking her more than once, a tiny bubble of sadness caught in her chest. Why?

  No time to ponder whatever was clouding her complete enjoyment of their time together. She had work to do. At least another hour or two at the laptop before calling it a night.

  ****

  Early the next evening, having just returned from the site, Jack waited impatiently for Lacey to open the door. After he’d carried her to the apartment the previous night, he’d gotten out of there as fast as he could for fear of what he might do if he stayed longer. His attraction to the woman was making him do and think things he knew he should avoid. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. He’d even stood outside her building a few minutes letting the storm’s remaining drizzle soak him, like the water would wash away the weird vibes he’d been feeling ever since he’d emptied himself into her.

  No denying, it had been great sex. A physical rush like none he’d felt before had urged him to feel her up through her clothing, even sliding a hand up her skirt to make himself at home. Lacey had given as good as she got. She’d not only been receptive to his moves, she’d initiated a few of her own. She hadn’t tried to pin him down trying to define what had happened. She’d merely accepted what they’d done, apparently enjoying it.

  So why the letdown? Why did he feel like he’d left something undone? Maybe it was the stress of the project hanging over them. Whatever, he’d needed a fast, cold shower, after which he’d dropped into bed and cleared his brain of everything.