It's in His Touch

by Shelly Alexander

  Lorenda came over, introduced herself to Kimberly, and waved them onto the dance floor. “Come on! I love to line dance. Doesn’t require a partner.”

  “I’m with you, girl,” Kimberly said, and they both dragged Angelique onto the dance floor just as a new song started.

  “I have no idea how to do this,” Angelique sputtered. “And I’m not wearing boots.”

  “Just follow everyone else,” said Lorenda. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  Okay, four hands would come in handy right about now. If she could drink with all four hands at once, it might give her enough liquid courage to do this. Angelique watched the other dancers for a minute, then joined the fray. It took a few minutes to catch on, but before she knew it, she moved in step with the other dancers, sliding and turning to the beat. Laughing when she made a mistake, letting the music take her body along with the rhythm. She grooved and moved like she’d been line dancing her whole life. She quickly saw the appeal, because it was easy and fun.

  Her formfitting burgundy sweater dress allowed her to move easily to the music, but her flat-heeled black shoes were a little binding. So she kicked them off at the table and ran back to reclaim her spot in between Lorenda and Kimberly. By the time they’d danced straight through three songs and worked up a little sweat, they were laughing like three teenage girls at a slumber party.

  Dr. Tall, Dark, and Who? That’s right. She didn’t need a man to have fun.

  Finally, the DJ announced a break from line dancing and put on a slow song for couples. Angelique and Kimberly took a seat at the table, inviting Lorenda to join them. Lorenda called over a server and ordered another round of drinks.

  And here came Blake. No, no. Yes. No. Yes.

  Relief washed through Angelique as Blake made a detour and headed toward the restrooms. And disappointment, too.

  A soft country song came on, and a burly man wearing a long sandy-blond ponytail and looking to be in his midthirties came over, the spitting image of the country singer Trace Adkins. He approached Kimberly and took off his hat. “Ma’am, would you care to dance?”

  Kimberly sized him up. “Sure, but I’m not going home with you,” she announced, almost like it was a challenge. She did that to men. Tested them to see how quickly she could scare them off. Worked nearly every time.

  “Fair enough.” His amber eyes twinkled at her, like he knew her MO. “I’ll settle for a dance or two, then.”

  Kimberly left her chair and took his arm. “And keep your big male hands north of the border. Capiche?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He led her onto the dance floor and swung her into a fluid waltz.

  Two square pegs who’d become fast friends. Angelique sighed and looked at her mom and dad, who even cuddled to the soft music.

  “Sweetheart, why don’t you ask one of these single men to dance,” her mom said. “It’s just a dance, after all.”

  “I was just coming to claim a spot on her dance card,” said a voice from behind her, and her heart skittered. The voice slid over her like hot caramel on an ice cream sundae. She swallowed, and despite the sweat she’d worked up on the dance floor, a shiver lanced through her.

  Chapter Ten

  When Blake walked up behind Angelique, it took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to touch her. A small ripple of satisfaction pinged through him when she startled at his voice, then an infinitesimal shiver slid over her.

  Funny, since she was flushed from line dancing, and it wasn’t the least bit drafty inside of Joe’s.

  He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go near her tonight. Any contact he had with her should be to weaken her case or outmaneuver her legal strategy. Nothing more. But every time she shimmied her shoulders and shook her rear end in perfect rhythm with the music, his mouth had grown drier until he could almost spit cotton. Not even Joe’s best brew could quench his thirst for her. Her long legs, only half covered by a short dress that revealed every curve, had flexed and teased him with every ridiculous step while she line danced with Joe’s usual Saturday night crowd.

  “Sorry, but I’m all danced out,” Angelique said, taking a long swallow of beer without looking at him.

  The older couple at the table had to be Angelique’s parents because the resemblance was remarkable. When Angelique didn’t make an effort to introduce them, Blake did the honors himself. “I’m Blake Holloway. Angelique’s neighbor.”

  Blake could swear he heard Angelique’s teeth grind, even over the music. He couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “Thanks for cutting that poison oak down. Who knew she was so allergic?” Her dad offered his hand, and Blake shook it.

  “You folks up here for a visit?” Blake asked.

  “Just a few days to check on our girl.” Mrs. Barbetta smiled at her daughter, and Blake’s heart warmed. Nice folks. Strong family ties. Angelique was luckier than she realized.

  He looked at Mrs. Barbetta. “Can I steal your daughter away for a dance?” Better to go to the person with the most power. Mom.

  Angelique shook her head. “I don’t think so, I’m a little tir—”

  “Oh, go on, dear. It’ll be fun, right Frank?” Mr. Barbetta, his mug half to his lips, humphed when his wife’s elbow connected with his ribs.

  “Yes, of course. Go have fun, sweat pea,” her dad said.

  Angelique turned to Blake, her brow knitted and eyes flashing. The dark irises shimmered under the lights. When his gaze drifted over her flushed face, the tension in her expression eased. Her breath hitched, and her lips parted.

  Perfect.

  “What do you say, Ms. Barbetta?” His mouth curved into a knowing smile. “We can dance and talk shop at the same time.”

  Her eyes rounded, and she glanced at her parents. Ah, so they probably didn’t know exactly what Angelique’s business in Red River entailed.

  Finally, she eased out of her chair and faced him. “One dance.”

  Smiling, he held out his arm and led her onto the dance floor. The song was slow and smooth, but she tensed like a plank of wood when he pulled her into his embrace. A light sheen of perspiration glittered across her neck and chest just above the zipper of her knit dress. The soft skin at the base of her neck pulsed.

  “I’m not really a country and western dancer,” she mumbled. “So easy steps, okay?”

  He eased her into a simple two-step.

  “Could’ve fooled me. You were doing a pretty good job line dancing.”

  “Well, that was line dancing. You don’t have to follow someone else’s lead. You can do it all by yourself.”

  “But it’s so much better with a partner.” His voice went husky, and he smiled at the slow burn that appeared over her sculpted cheekbones.

  Changing directions, he scooted her across the dance floor in a slow cadence. Unable to accommodate the shift, she stepped on his toes. Her pink cheeks deepened to a flaming scarlet.

  “I told you I don’t do country and western. You don’t listen.”

  “Well, talk slower. Maybe I can follow along,” he smarted off.

  She glowered at him.

  He had to laugh. “You’re doing just fine.” He rested their clasped hands against his chest. “Don’t worry about your feet. Close your eyes and feel your way through the steps.”

  Her body solidified into granite.

  He sighed. “I’m serious. If you concentrate on the way my body shifts and moves under your hands, your feet will follow.”

  Her eyes rounded.

  Ah, crap. That did sound kind of sexual, because he could easily picture his body moving and shifting with hers. And her hands. Yes, her hands would definitely be all over him.

  “This . . .” She swallowed, her eyes darting around the room. “This really isn’t a good idea.”

  “Probably not.” He shifted their direction to maneuver around a corner of the dance floor. “But here we are, so let’s just go with it. See where the music takes us.”

  She searched his expression. “What do you
expect to gain? Do you think if I succumb to your charm, like all the other women in Red River, I’ll give in and let you win?”

  Maybe. But it was more than that. He wanted her to stop looking at him like just another case to win and see him as a man. Her attraction to him was obvious, and God help him, he wanted to get to know the woman under that impenetrable shell of hers.

  “Did you just say ‘succumb to my charm’?” he teased her and felt oddly gratified when annoyance flashed in her eyes.

  “I did. Would you like me to explain the meaning?”

  “Oh, I know what it means. They did make us learn a few vocabulary words in medical school. I just wanted to be sure that’s what you said, because . . .” He smiled down at her. Slow, lazy, drawing out the moment because of how much it was going to irritate her. “Now I know you think I’m charming.”

  She nearly growled.

  He tightened his hold on the small of her back and pulled her closer. “Not everyone has an ulterior motive, Angelique.” He kind of did, but he was also bent on getting to know her as a woman. “Knock off the badass lawyer routine, drop the armor, and just be. Who knows, you might even have some fun.”

  “I’m not here to just be,” she said through clenched teeth. “Or to have fun.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” He turned her to the left, and she missed a step.

  He tugged her closer, and she studied him for a moment.

  “Just concentrate on the music and the movement under your fingertips.” He looked deep into her shimmering eyes. Saw the moment she decided to trust him, and her eyelids fluttered shut for several beats. Long, glossy eyelashes swept the soft skin under her big ebony eyes.

  He rested his cheek against her temple and breathed against her hair. A delicate tremor slid over her, and he swallowed a moan.

  What was he thinking? This is trouble, idiot. Pulling away a fraction, he looked down at her. After a few beats, her eyes drifted open, and she swallowed.

  “Where’s your pink ribbon?” Blake asked.

  “Pink is tacky.” Her expression went hard. “And I’m not a weepy female who wallows in grief and self-pity.”

  Yeah, he got the not-a-weepy-female part loud and clear. Like a blinking neon sign. The kind that induced migraines. He pulled in a strained breath.

  Another slow shift and they drifted in a different direction. “I haven’t told anyone why you’re in Red River,” Blake said. “But they’ll find out eventually. Rumors spread pretty fast in this town.”

  Her jaw hardened. “Is that supposed to be my problem?”

  “The business owners involved in the case sort of designated me the leader. I’ll keep it quiet as long as I can.”

  “Why would you do that, and why should I care?”

  Because I’m an idiot? “I’m trying to keep it quiet because I’m hoping for a resolution before it gets ugly.” And so I can spend more time with you before you’re run out of town by an angry mob. They might even run him out of Red River if they thought he was protecting the person who was there to ruin their town. “And I think you do care.”

  The melody slowed to a close, and they stood in place, still toe-to-toe.

  “Well, you’re wrong, Doc. I care about doing my job. That’s it.”

  He glanced around the room, absorbing her words. Several couples left the dance floor, while others walked on. Kimberly was already partnered up for the next dance. An elderly couple had joined Angelique’s parents and were deep in conversation.

  Angelique tried to pull her hand off his chest, but he kept it anchored just over his heart. He looked down at her, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. The lush pink lips parted.

  No, pink wasn’t in the least bit tacky. It was gorgeous and tempting.

  “You can’t win,” she whispered, a hint of regret twined into her words.

  He wasn’t usually the confrontational type, but the future of Red River was too important to walk away from without a fight. Or without seeing where things might lead with Angelique, if he could just buy a little time.

  “Some things are worth fighting for.”

  “I’m meeting with your attorney soon, and he’s not up to the task.”

  “It’s just a preliminary meeting, right?” His attorney’s last e-mail said he’d set a meeting with Angelique to size up the situation so he could plan a strategy. When Blake volunteered to attend, his attorney said it wasn’t necessary. Said it was routine for opposing attorneys to meet before the case really got going.

  “Yes, but . . .” She pulled a lip between her teeth.

  “What?” He wanted her to open up to him. And not just to get information that could help his case. He wanted her to trust him.

  “Don’t you get it? I’m the best at what I do.”

  “Modest, too.”

  That coaxed a glimmer of something to form in her eyes. Not anger. Not irritation. But something he couldn’t quite identify because it was almost akin to regret.

  Her gaze hovered on their clasped hands. “Why are you going to make me humiliate you and your friends?”

  “Because deep down I don’t think you really want to do that. And what kind of man would I be if I didn’t fight for what’s mine?”

  Another song started, this one a little faster. He wasn’t sure Angelique could handle a quicker two-step, so he just swayed in place. Her body followed his in rhythm.

  “I’ll win. Guaranteed. Advise your friends to take the buyout deal my clients are offering.”

  “Your clients are offering a fraction of what our properties are worth.”

  “At least you’ll come out of it with something, and you can start over.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that simple for some of us.” A few of the proprietors would retire. Some had owned their office space long enough to pay it off and could start over in a different location if they wanted. But most, including him, had mortgaged their properties and would likely end up flat broke or bankrupt when it was over.

  And she’d be gone from Red River and from his life, probably forever.

  No. No, it wouldn’t be possible for some of the business owners to start over. She’d studied the file and knew that several of them would be wiped out financially.

  Blake’s heartbeat thrummed under her palm, his hand engulfing hers. She’d come to Red River with a very simple agenda—win an easy case for a mega client that would catapult her into a partnership. A task she should be able to complete in her sleep. Unfortunately, her sleep had been invaded by a tall, incredibly well built country doctor, and the simple task had suddenly become very difficult.

  Because you’re letting it get personal.

  Angelique looked up into Blake’s baby blues, and her throat nearly closed because they skimmed over her entire face. Slow and smooth like the music. Like his molten lava voice and silky touch, saying so much, even though no words left his mouth.

  His eyes turned from smoke to fire, and they nearly burned her up with their heat. The air around them snapped with energy. Hot. Sexy. Very, very dangerous.

  She wanted . . . him. But . . . she couldn’t imagine . . .

  Closing her eyes, she dislodged her hand from his and stepped back. “This is highly irregular.”

  “Two people dancing is irregular?” Blake asked, an innocent smile on his lips. Wickedness in his eyes.

  She may already be on thin ice at the firm because of Gabriel and his ludicrous accusations. Her career had taken a few heavy hits lately. Flirting with the enemy camp wouldn’t likely help. Thankfully, Gabriel hadn’t paid enough attention to this particular case or Blake to know she was crossing some boundaries. This case didn’t revolve around Gabriel, so he wasn’t likely to give it a second thought. But her biggest fear wasn’t for her career.

  The way her girly parts turned flips when Blake was within shouting distance had her quaking in her little black patent leather slip-ons. Even more frightening was the fact that he made her heart skitter and thump. The fact that she wanted to
wrap herself around Blake every time she saw him was the problem. It would lead to taking off her shirt with him in the room, because resisting his touch, resisting the desire in his eyes, was wearing her down and quickly becoming impossible. Terror settled in her gut and nearly paralyzed her.

  “I—” Her voice was cut off by her own strangled gasp for air. “I can’t do this,” she finally managed to eke out.

  He took a step toward her. “Angelique.”

  “No!” Her feet moved her another step backward. She turned and darted for the bathroom.

  Angelique locked the bathroom door and stood in front of the mirror, the music dulling behind the closed door.

  “You. Are. Suchanidiot,” she seethed at herself in the mirror. “Get your act together.”

  A knock sounded on the door as she rolled her head around on her shoulders. She stared at herself again in the mirror.

  The knocking turned into a pound, but not in a rhythm like most people would knock. It was more like an odd bang, boom, bump.

  She took a deep breath, went to the door, unlocked it, and plastered a smile on her face before stepping out into the hallway, where the music overwhelmed her senses again. And she came face-to-face with a life-size inflatable pink ribbon and a poster girl for breast cancer. The fortyish woman with a curly bob was dressed in Pepto-Bismol pink from the top of her pink cowboy hat, to her flouncy pink square dancing dress, all the way down to her pointy pink boots. She struggled to drag the mammoth ribbon toward the dancehall but lost her grip on it.

  Angelique’s head snapped back to avoid getting slapped in the face by the runaway ribbon.

  “Oh, sorry! This darned thing got away from me and kept hitting the bathroom door,” Pepto Cowgirl said. “And every time I bend over to grab it, this silly dress hikes up and shows too much of my behind. Not a pretty sight, you know what I’m sayin’?” She moved to the other side of the ribbon to get a better grasp on it. “What we do for a good cause, right?”

  Was there no escaping the cursed ribbons? They were even stalking Angelique in the ladies’ room.

  “Hey, where’s your ribbon?” blurted Pepto Cowgirl.