December Dance

by Verity Norton

  “When is it?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “Definitely.” He trotted off toward the stairs that led to the lighting booth.

  Chris walked into the large hall where the winter ball was being held halfway between Winslow and the valley. The theme was snow in Canden Valley. He didn’t even want to know how they’d created the illusion of snow falling from the sky. He was just glad he wasn’t on the decorating committee.

  It was her idea to meet there. He had offered to pick her up, but she’d turned him down. He had a suspicion why. If she drove herself, it meant she’d have her car with her. And if she had her car with her, she’d be in control of her desired destination which was undoubtedly his apartment. This time he had thought to lock the door.

  He didn’t often wear suits. They reminded him of his other life, the life he had lived under the influence of his family. He preferred wearing jeans and a leather jacket or one of the corduroy jackets with patches on the elbows that his father detested. He especially enjoyed wearing those.

  But tonight a formal suit and tie were called for. He knew he’d guessed right about that the moment he walked in the door and saw all the men dressed in similar attire and the women in formal gowns which they probably only wore once or twice a year. And jewelry, lots of jewelry. And perfume. And hair spray, not a scent he appreciated.

  He spotted her instantly. She was wearing a dark green gown that hugged her body the way he longed to do. It was formal looking but fell to just above the knee, most likely to accommodate her dancing. She had black and green high heels and her hair was pulled up on one side, resting below her shoulder on the other side. She wore a hint of makeup and a simple gold necklace around her neck, a matching bracelet. He stopped to catch his breath before crossing the room to join her.

  She slipped her hand inside of his with an easy familiarity and introduced him to the group of people who were surrounding her. “You’ve met my brother Alex and his fiancée Cassie.” He shook Alex’s hand and accepted the quick kiss Cassie offered his cheek. “These are three of my cousins, Kelly and Kayleigh and Megan. And of course you know Skye and Nick,” she said with pointed irritation.

  Skye stepped forward and hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Hang in there. She’s worth it.”

  Nick shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder which he took to mean, “Good luck.”

  He glanced around the room. “Where is the rest of your family?”

  “Matt and Arielle should be here soon, along with both sets of their parents. I don’t think any more of the cousins are coming. My mom got stuck out at the ranch with a sick horse so I doubt my parents will be coming. If they do, it will be late. My Uncle Palmer and Aunt Emily are manning the pub. And my Aunt Ivy and Uncle Nigel are over there with my grandparents.”

  Chris glanced across the room and waved to the older couple who grinned and returned the gesture. He liked them, these McCulloughs. All of them.

  “Come dance with me,” Anne whispered. “You can dance, can’t you?”

  “I can dance.”

  “How well?”

  “So-so.”

  “Just a word of warning,” Skye said. “If you can’t keep up with her, Anne doesn’t care. She’ll dance alone.”

  “Got it,” Chris said, gripping her hand and planning not to let it go for the rest of the evening.

  “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” ended just as they stepped onto the dance floor. Chris waited for the next Christmas Carol and was pleasantly surprised when the band switched themes, no doubt catering to the older people in the crowd.

  He led Anne around the dance floor in a fox trot to “Cheek to Cheek”, followed by “Mack the Knife,” finishing out the medley with “Can’t We Be Friends?”

  “How appropriate,” Anne whispered as he held her against him in a closer hold than the fox trot required.

  “Trust me, gorgeous, I do not want to be just friends.”

  “Could have fooled me. You do a good job of playing the role.”

  He smiled against her cheek. “Accurate assessment. I’m just playing a role. Until—”

  “You really can dance,” Anne said quickly just as the music ended. She’d started the conversation. That didn’t mean she wanted to finish it with a discussion of a more serious relationship than she was willing to have.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He gripped her hand as they stood and waited for the next song to begin.

  “Oh, yeah? I can’t wait. Oh, hey, I forgot to thank you.”

  “For?”

  “Whatever you did to the lights. They’re much better positioned now and not blinding the dancers.”

  “You’re welcome. Ah, one of my old favorites.”

  Anne stepped back into his arms for a slow dance to “Moonlight in Vermont.” “One of my Grandparents’ favorites too.”

  “That makes it a McCullough family favorite?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, they have good taste.”

  She had to admit she was more than surprised that he even knew these songs, let alone could dance appropriately to them. “What else can you do?” she asked, nodding to the bandleader who had caught her eye. “Swing, I hope?”

  Having caught the exchange between dancer and bandleader, he laughed. “Is that a warning?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She dropped her hand from his shoulder. “You might want to lose the jacket.”

  He shrugged out of it and tossed it on the back of a chair. Anne gripped his other hand tightly in preparation for the set of fast dances. Chris chuckled and moved in for the challenge as the band began, “It Don’t Mean a Thing.” He was very grateful that after the night he’d seen her dancing at the Dunedin Inn with her friends, he’d taken some refresher dance classes at a studio near his loft apartment in San Francisco.

  “I can lead,” he yelled above the music, resisting her inclination to back-lead.

  Anne grinned and loosened her grip. He wasn’t exaggerating, she realized as he twirled her and pushed her here and there, guiding her through underarm passes, kicks and lunges, and Charleston kicks.

  Still, when the song ended, she challenged, “Is that all you’ve got?”

  “Hey, I thought that was damned good.”

  “It was. Now how about some flips?”

  The band struck up, “Jumpin at the Woodside” and Chris led her through similar steps, throwing in a flip here and there.

  Just as the crowd separated and made more room for them on the dance floor, “In the Mood” started up and Anne said, “Okay, they’re really expecting a performance now.”

  “What exactly are you suggesting?” he asked, looking her silky dress up and down. “I hope not that pencil lift or whatever it’s called or even the side to side thingy.”

  “The Candlestick? Actually, both,” she said, “But don’t worry. I’m wearing appropriate attire.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was afraid my kick pants would show a line so I opted for a half leotard.”

  “In that case—” He grabbed her hand and picked her up, throwing her from one hip to his other, then straight up in the air. The crowd exploded with applause and he slowed down to catch his breath. Anne didn’t seem the slightest bit breathless.

  He kept her on the floor for a minute, and then led her through another series of lifts and throws, ending with the Lindy Flip. This time when the music ended, he was relieved to see that she too was out of breath.

  The room erupted with applause once again. Anne giggled and led him off the dance floor.

  “You really are a ham, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Hey, they weren’t clapping for me. They’re used to me. They were clapping for you.”

  Chris turned and looked at the smiling crowd. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. Very impressive, I must say.” She grasped his hand more tightly and headed for the nearest glass of water. “As I said, you really can
dance.”

  “The one advantage of growing up in my family.” The only advantage, as far as he was concerned. He had protested the social dance lessons as a kid, but because it was expected of him, and he knew he’d have to do it whether he wanted to or not, he had allowed himself to excel. His mother had warned him, “You’ll appreciate this one day.” He’d never admit it to her, but that day had finally come.

  After they’d each consumed a tall glass of water, Anne grabbed his hand and tugged, but he pulled away. “I think I deserve more of a break than one song.”

  “Party pooper,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to find another partner.”

  He started to stand up in protest, but sat back down when he spotted her making a beeline for her grandfather. He leaned back and reached for a second glass of water as he enjoyed watching the couple head for the dance floor.

  He could not recall a time when Shelly and their grandfather had made it on to the dance floor together. Despite the lessons they’d been forced to take in order to impress their family’s circle of friends and clients, rarely did James Senior or James Junior Newell actually accompany Shelly onto the dance floor. They were too busy dancing with wives of associates and other female attendees. He always wondered which ones were their mistresses, but always concluded that it was best if he didn’t know. Although he could have made several educated guesses.

  He sighed as he recalled Shelly and Max’s tiny wedding. Other than him, no family members had attended. He was the one who had given his little sister away, and he was the one who had danced with her in between dances with her new husband.

  It was really no different from their childhood, he realized. At all the formal functions they’d been forced to endure during their youth, he always became Shelly’s partner to spare them both from the tedious questions and conversations they were constantly subjected to. As a result, they’d become quite accomplished dancers, particularly swing dancers with all the required lifts and throws which had so successfully impressed Anne. He never thought he’d see the day when he was grateful for those constant lavish events of his teen years, but he’d found their silver lining tonight.

  “You look deep in thought.”

  He smiled as he looked up to see a beautiful woman dressed in a turquoise blue dress that matched her eyes. He was certain they’d never met, yet she did look familiar. Definitely not a McCullough with her curly blond hair and turquoise blue eyes.

  She extended her hand for him to shake. “Arielle Bradford McCullough.”

  He quickly stood up and took her hand. “Ah, the famous Santa Barbara psychologist.”

  “My reputation precedes me. Skye?”

  “The very one.”

  He glanced toward the group of McCulloughs standing across the room, spotting one in particular who was standing beside Alex, staring in their direction. “You’re Matt’s wife.”

  “I am.” She followed his gaze in the direction he was looking. “Yep, that’s my gorgeous husband.”

  “The contractor.”

  “That’s Matt. I’m sure he’ll be over in a minute to meet you.”

  “Because he doesn’t want you too far away for very long?” Newlyweds. He wondered what that felt like.

  “Actually because he’s anxious to meet the man who’s determined to win the heart of his best friend’s sister.”

  Chris groaned. McCullough wildfire. “I take it everyone knows about me?”

  Arielle looked pensive for a moment. “Not quite everyone. A lot of the cousins are away at college or are out of town. They may not have heard yet. So, how’s it going?”

  “Other than Anne’s determination to break my willpower? Fine.”

  Arielle laughed. “I imagine she puts up a good fight.”

  “She does. And I’m afraid I’m not much of a match for her. I don’t know how much longer I can take her mischievous methods.”

  “What’s she been doing?”

  “The latest was sneaking into my apartment—and bed—so when I returned home from Winslow, she was there, ready to seduce me.”

  “Did she succeed?”

  His mind flashed on the erotic session of near-lovemaking they’d shared. “Almost. I think she’s still mad at me for kicking her out of my bed.”

  Arielle reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. I’m afraid I might not have the same self-restraint the next time.”

  “Just remember there’s a lot to win further down the line.” She felt compelled to add, “And it won’t hurt to remember that there’s a frightened child inside most of us.”

  “Frightened of what?”

  “Oh, it varies. For some of us it’s fear that we’ll never be good enough. We’ll never live up to our parents’ expectations.” She looked him directly in the eye, shocking him with her perceptiveness. “For others, it’s fear that we will.”

  He laughed, recognizing it as a self-conscious laugh. “How do you know that about me?”

  “That you’re afraid you’ll turn out to be the way your parents want you to be?”

  “Right.”

  “I wasn’t necessarily talking about you.”

  “Yeah, right.” He gave her a look that said he was perceptive too.

  She shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

  “Don’t tell me you researched me on the internet too.”

  The blond therapist smiled up at him. “Skye likes to play detective. Since her brother Sean, the real detective in the family, is off on his honeymoon, she ran a background check on you.”

  Chris wasn’t at all sure he liked that. But then if it meant it was just family members looking out for their own, he decided maybe he was okay with it.

  “Don’t worry, Sean checked out Nick when he first came to town too.”

  “So, what did you learn about me? That I’m from the infamous Marin County Newell family? High society?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And that helped you conclude that my deepest fear is turning out like them?”

  “Pretty much. But just so you know, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  His spirits lifted with that assessment. “And what helped you come to that conclusion?”

  “Well, considering that you’re standing here at a country winter ball, enamored with a beautiful angelic yet down-to-earth dancer who’s probably wearing the only formal gown she owns—if she does own it—and that you’re quite content to live in a tiny studio above a pub—which I know intimately, having lived there myself for a month—and that you’ve chosen to be a professional photographer instead of joining the family financial business . . . . That pretty much says it all.”

  “So, then, we can’t credit you with being such a brilliant therapist after all. It’s simply the power of reason and deduction.”

  “Exactly,” Arielle said.

  “Glad we got that settled.” He smiled his most persuasive smile at the beautiful blond McCullough bride. “Now, how about telling me Anne’s deepest fear?” He gazed across the room at the subject of their conversation as she fox trotted with her grandfather, actually allowing the old man to lead.

  “I have a feeling you already know.”

  “I want to see if I’m right.”

  Arielle nodded for him to continue.

  “She’s afraid of losing herself,” he said quietly.

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I knew I liked you.”

  He took that as an affirmative. “So, any advice?”

  “Convince her that she can be with you and be herself at the same time.”

  “I’ve been trying, but it’s not easy to have a serious conversation with her, of any kind. She changes the subject, withdraws, or denies it when I point out her inclination to dump men when she leaves on tour. And anything I say that’s remotely serious is met with anger or humor . . . or she kicks her power of seduction into high gear. Or all of the above.”

  “That’s A
nne. Humor is definitely one of her favorite defense mechanisms. Maybe try giving her back some of her own. I wouldn’t recommend the anger. And definitely not seduction in this situation.” She nodded as if she were gaining more faith in her recommendation. “Definitely try using some humor on her. It always helps to speak the other person’s language.”

  Chris’s smile was broad as he leaned down to return the kiss to her cheek. He wasn’t entirely certain how he would follow her advice, but he knew he would be watching for the opportunity to do exactly that. In the meantime, he would heed Skye’s advice and hang in there, because he too knew that Anne was worth it.

  Chapter 19

  “He likes you.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, it’s mutual.”

  “He says I’ve met my match.”

  He chuckled. “On the dance floor?”

  She wrinkled her nose, as if admitting she wasn’t sure what the senior McCullough had meant by that statement, but he was pretty sure he did. While Anne was dancing with her grandfather, after a brief break, he had taken the opportunity to ask her grandmother to dance, and she had said something similar.

  “Not to brag, but I think your grandmother is sweet on me.”

  Anne giggled and settled onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m not surprised. Was she flirting?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And she winked at me more than once. And kissed me on the cheek twice.”

  “She’s definitely sweet on you.” She cocked her head to the side. “Ohh, a waltz. Can you waltz?”

  “Does a bear eat honey?”

  “Maybe some day you’ll tell me where you learned to dance like this. And why.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” She stood up and pulled him up beside her. They glided around the dance floor to a slow version of “Isn’t It Romantic?”

  Chris felt his heart swell as she followed his lead. It was as if they had been born to dance together. She felt so perfect in his arms. He didn’t want to stop dancing or to stop holding her. She had never looked more beautiful, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. He was just glad it was with him. A few tendrils of her hair had escaped their clip and were framing her face. He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her off to a romantic hideaway and make love to her.