December Dance

by Verity Norton

  He really didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. He had a feeling that the only thing saving him tonight was that half of her family was there watching them dance. And no doubt taking bets on whether or not she’d be able to seduce him before the evening was out. At that moment he would have put his money on her.

  * * *

  Chris lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t expect to get any sleep. It had been well after one o’clock in the morning when he’d arrived back at the apartment. And despite all the dancing he and Anne had done, sleep was eluding him.

  Closing his eyes didn’t seem to help. It only intensified his memory of the feel of her in his arms, and her mouth pressed against his when they’d said good-night. He had sat in his car for a few minutes, letting her drive ahead of him back to Canden Valley. He didn’t want her following him back to the apartment. He was relieved when he’d pulled into the driveway and she wasn’t there.

  The cold shower he’d taken had helped—or so he’d thought—but now as he lay there in bed, naked beneath the sheets, he wasn’t sure it had helped at all. He tried counting sheep, then saying the alphabet backwards, reciting the states alphabetically. He was amazed he could remember them all, and still not slip into sleep out of sheer boredom. He couldn’t take much more of this, especially when she made it clear how much she wanted him.

  It had surprised him though when she didn’t ask to go home with him. It wasn’t like her not to at least make an attempt to seduce him. But as he was helping Anne into her car, her grandparents were walking with her aunt and uncle to theirs. Still, it was definitely out of character.

  He sat up in bed at the sound of his doorknob turning. “What the hell!”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just me,” she whispered against the darkened night as she opened the door and entered his tiny apartment.

  “Don’t worry? Just you?” Shit, it could have been an ax murderer and he’d have worried less. “What are you doing here?” He pulled the sheet higher up his body and reached for the light on his nightstand. “Besides breaking in.” He was certain he had locked that door.

  A smirk on her face, she held up a key.

  “Where’d you get that? What about tenants’ rights? I could sue your uncle.”

  Her smirk had become more of a leer. “He didn’t give it to me.”

  “Who did?”

  “You.” Her laugh was full of mischief. “Did I ever tell you I was a pickpocket in a past life?”

  He grumbled, “Actually no, but I used my key to get in tonight so I know—”

  “I had a copy made and put it back in your jacket pocket before you could notice.”

  “When?”

  She shrugged. “A couple days ago.”

  He tucked the sheet under his legs as if that would help.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Looks like you couldn’t either.” She had that mischievous gleam in her eyes, and he had no doubt that she had planned this all along. That was the reason she had been so restrained when they’d said good-night. She’d wanted to throw him off-guard. She’d gone home. She had changed out of her green dress and was wearing jeans and boots and a turtleneck shirt with a down vest. She had come back, knowing that by now he would be in bed, most likely naked.

  “What makes you think you didn’t wake me up?” he said.

  She laughed as she kicked the door closed behind her, tossed her vest on the desk chair, and reached down to remove her boots.

  “You can’t stay. You have to leave.”

  “You gonna make me?”

  “Hey, I tossed you out once before. I can do it again.”

  “Yeah, you can, but you don’t want to. I warned you, I’m not good at taking no for an answer. You know I’ll wear you down one of these days. Why not today? Tonight? Well, no, actually, it’s way past midnight so I suppose that makes it day.”

  He started to choke on his own breath when she whipped the turtleneck over her head and tossed it across the room toward the chair. Then came her jeans, leaving her dressed in only a pair of emerald green panties and bra. Earlier that evening, he had wondered if they’d matched her dress. Several times. He took it as proof that this had been her plan all along. If she’d gone to bed and tried to sleep, she’d have changed out of her underwear, and the likelihood was that she’d be wearing a different color now.

  “Vixen.”

  “More name calling,” she murmured as she swung her leg over his body to straddle him. “But I don’t mind.” She leaned down to kiss him, a knowing smile on her face. “If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you’re very happy to see me,” she teased in her best Mae West accent.

  It was moments like this he wished he had an iota of control over his male anatomy. Thank God there was a sheet between them, he found himself thinking, as if that would do any good.

  “You have to leave,” he said, his voice hoarse and raspy as his hands found their way around her to caress her ass and guide her in her determination to rock back and forth on top of him.

  Shit. Nothing was going to stop her. Obviously not him.

  “I want you,” she whispered as her mouth trailed kisses along his neck to his chest. “I want to make love to you.”

  His stomach clenched and he felt himself dissolve into the bed. “I want to make love to you too, beautiful, but we can’t.”

  “Yes, we can.” She reached back and unfastened her bra and let it fall away as she leaned forward to press a breast into his mouth.

  He didn’t resist. He had wanted to do this for so long. He caressed her with his tongue, teasing and tasting, all the while letting her slide back and forth against him. He wanted her too much.

  “This is fucking torture,” he said when she slid down further, pulling her breast from his mouth and easing down his body so he could feel her naked against him.

  “I know,” she whispered back. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

  When she lowered the sheet and was sitting directly on his erection, Chris thought he had died and gone to heaven . . . or hell. He grabbed her around the waist and eased her off of him, pulling the sheet back up. “No, gorgeous. We’re not—we’re not making love.”

  “It sure feels like we are.”

  Yeah, well, it sure as hell felt like it to him too. Which meant there was nothing to set him apart from the other men in her life. He exhaled a ragged breath and rolled onto his side before she could straddle him again.

  Disappointment filled her eyes. “I thought you had feelings for me.”

  “I do. Believe me, I do.”

  “But you don’t want me enough to make love to me.”

  “I want you more than enough. But I told you, I want more than you’re willing to give. And until that changes, we’re not— We’re just not.”

  She snatched her bra back and slipped into it. This time it wasn’t only disappointment he was seeing but vulnerability, something he had never seen before. She really wasn’t used to taking no for an answer. Probably because she wasn’t used to being rejected.

  He felt like a total jerk. Like a major tease. He’d been flirting with her all evening, caressing her as they danced, touching her in intimate ways. Only to reject her in the end. But he had to remind himself how he’d feel in the morning if he gave into her. Totally defeated.

  Still that hurt look that had flickered in her eyes as she climbed off the bed and pulled on her clothes would not be a look he’d soon forget.

  “I’m sorry, Anne,” he whispered.

  “A lot of good that does me,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to go find a more willing participant.”

  She had mumbled those last words but he’d caught them—directly in his gut. Shit. Did she mean it? Was she seriously going to go find another man to satisfy her desires? Or was she just trying a different tactic?

  Anne finished pulling her turtleneck over her head in time to catch the horrified expression on Chris’s face. As disappointed as she was—and as ravenous for his body—she didn’t really w
ant him thinking less of her. She wasn’t promiscuous. She simply enjoyed sex and being intimate with men she cared a lot for. Still, as much as she wanted him, she wasn’t going to let jealousy and fear of her running to another man’s bed in the middle of the night, be the reason for his making love to her.

  Hmm, or maybe she would. Just not tonight. She smiled to herself, wondering which of her dance friends she could import to Canden Valley to evoke at least a tad of jealousy.

  She slipped into her jeans, grabbed her purse, and plunked down on the bed beside him. “Scoot over.”

  “What are you doing?”

  She reached inside her purse, and her hand emerged with a deck of cards. “If you’re not going to calm my nerves with good old-fashioned sex, how about a game of rummy?”

  “Seriously? Anne, it’s two bloody o’clock in the morning.”

  “I know, but I’m always hyper before a performance. Well, not when I’m dancing, but when my kids are.”

  “You’ll be exhausted for the show tomorrow night!”

  “I’ll sleep late, once I can actually fall asleep. Do you have to be somewhere in the morning?”

  He thought for a moment. He had a date with his bicycle to ride long and hard in an attempt to get her out of his system. Other than that he had the entire day until the performance. Shelly would bring Sara in so she could watch the show. “Not really.”

  “Okay, mister, then be prepared to lose.”

  She dealt the cards and he felt the need to pull on some clothes, but considering that she was perched on top of the sheet that was the only thing protecting him, he realized he’d just have to accept being naked beside her. Something he had dreamed of for several months now. Only in his dream, she was lying naked beside him. And she had a diamond ring on her finger.

  Chris awoke to the sound of rain. Damn. He really needed that bike ride. But when had a little rain stopped him? He glanced at the clock. Eleven. Despite Anne’s having kept him up until four a.m. he’d still managed to get a decent sleep.

  He rolled onto his back, toppling the cards that were sitting on top of him. Anne was still snuggled up against him on her side. He smiled at the image. Anne McCullough Jameson in his bed. His heart was bouncing around in his chest as he realized they’d spent their first night together. And what a night it had been. Beginning with a near-seduction and ending with sixteen rounds of rummy. With an argument over the correct pronunciation of the word mischievous thrown in.

  He inched away from her, hoping not to disturb her, more for his sake than hers. She didn’t need to see the damned hard-on he’d awakened with, thanks to constant dreams of her all night, rather morning. When he stepped into the shower, he was relieved that he’d made it there alone. No lock on the door, he realized. Maybe he’d have to install one.

  It wasn’t until he was climbing out of the shower that he realized he’d forgotten to bring a set of clothes in with him. Not only did she turn on his body, but she managed to turn off his brain. He dried himself off with one towel and used the other to wrap around his waist as he crept into the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. She was stirring but still in a sleep-ridden state. He hurried back into the bathroom and climbed into his jeans. He almost laughed aloud at the image. A grown man, thirty-two years old afraid of a woman who was barely half his body weight. Wow. One for the books.

  Safely tucked inside a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he snatched up his comb and tried to calm down the mess of thick hair he’d scrubbed dry. Then he brushed his teeth, glanced in the mirror and quickly decided that he’d shave later, and went to fetch his bicycle.

  But before he could make it out the door, she was awake, sitting up on his bed, still fully clothed. Thank God.

  “Aren’t you going to feed me?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “If you can wait until I take Marybelle out for a ride.”

  “You named your bike?”

  “Of course. We’re very intimate.”

  Anne rolled her eyes. “How long?”

  “I’ll make it a short ride. Considering that it’s raining.”

  “Okay, but come back with something good.”

  He chuckled as he pulled his helmet off the top shelf of the closet and settled it in place, strapping it beneath his chin. Normally he’d be wearing his bike shorts but he’d have had to rummage through drawers to find them and risk waking her up to find him standing there practically naked. Didn’t matter, he’d be soaked soon anyway.

  He chose a highly treed route, hoping the trees would protect him from the rain slightly. It wasn’t a serious ride, just a Saturday morning outing to let off some steam. And plenty of steam there was to let off.

  After about forty-five minutes, he pulled up to the book café adjacent to his apartment, peeked inside the door, waved to Sam who was behind the counter.

  “Don’t want to track any mud in,” he explained.

  “What can I get you?”

  He glanced unnecessarily across the room at the counter. “Two blueberry muffins, a chocolate muffin, a chocolate croissant, a slice of pumpkin bread, and a carrot loaf.” That should satisfy the dancer. “Oh, and a cup of coffee black and a cup of that tea, what is it?”

  “Anne’s favorite?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “How did you know?”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Besides the large food order? I’ve seen the look on your face . . . and hers.”

  Five minutes later, he was pushing open the door to the apartment, handing the bags and cups to Anne and trotting back down the stairs to retrieve his bicycle.

  “You did good,” Anne said as she set the spread on napkins on top of the kitchenette counter after he’d left his bike at the top of the stairs, pulled off his cleats and left them underneath the eaves and entered the studio apartment.

  He went to stand in front of the heater that Anne had obviously turned on for him.

  “You’d better get out of those wet clothes,” she said.

  “Not a chance. I’ll dry off in front of the heater.”

  “Not a chance,” she said, shoving a towel at him and nodding at the bathroom door. “I need you backstage—not sneezing!”

  He accepted the shirt and sweater and pair of jeans she’d pulled out of his dresser and tossed him, and headed for the bathroom. Anne laughed as he disappeared behind the door. The man really was terrified of her. Interesting concept.

  By the time he emerged, their tea and coffee had cooled enough to drink. They sat side by side on the window seat, a blueberry muffin in her other, a chocolate one in his.

  “This is nice,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  “It is nice,” he agreed, sensing her pensiveness. Definitely nice. Definitely something he wouldn’t mind doing on a daily basis.

  As if she had realized what she’d said, she suddenly pushed herself off the bench and stood up. “Geez, what am I doing sitting around here? I have a performance to get ready for.”

  So much for fantasy-wedded bliss. “You’re eating breakfast.” Chris took a bite of his muffin and a sip of his coffee.

  Anne looked down at her muffin and chomped off a bite, washing it down with tea. “Can I take it to go?”

  “Sure.” He nodded toward the spread on the counter. “Take whatever you want.”

  She snatched up the pumpkin bread and the other blueberry muffin and stuffed them back in the bag and slid her feet into her boots. Grabbing her vest, she slipped it on and grabbed her purse. “Thanks for an entertaining night.”

  Chris stood up and crossed the room in three strides. “That’s it? Thanks for an entertaining night?”

  “Well, it could have been better,” she said in her blasé manner.

  “Hey, I danced my ass off, remember?”

  Her smile came slowly. “Oh yeah. I wasn’t talking about that part.”

  “And I played a mean game of rummy.”

  “You were okay.”

  He lowered his voice. “And I let you stay the night.”

  She
nodded slowly, gazing up at him with her ocean blue eyes. “That you did.”

  “That I did.” He pulled her—purse, bag, and cup of tea included—into his arms for a gentle hug. Then he kissed her on the forehead, turned her around, patted her cute ass, and opened the door for her. “See you at the theater.”

  Anne turned and stared at him for a moment before she walked out the door, her heart soaring as it never had before. Not even when she had just finished dancing the best performance of her life.

  What was that about? And why did this feel so natural, his feeding her breakfast and seeing her off to work? She cringed at her thoughts and shook her head as if that would make them disappear. But they didn’t, and she realized for the first time ever that she actually wondered if maybe having a man permanently in her life might not be so bad. That thought not only shocked her, but it terrified the hell out of her.

  No way. She was not going to get caught up in some kind of stupid fantasy. But damn, the man could even dance!

  Chapter 20

  “Augh!” She was panicking and she knew better. Panic never helped any situation. But the Sugar Plum Fairy’s costume wasn’t cooperating and two of her soldiers’ hairdos weren’t holding and the Christmas tree lights for the initial scene kept flickering and Clara’s point shoes were slipping and . . . .

  Suddenly in the midst of all the chaos two small arms slipped around her waist, reminding her of what was important. She leaned down to kiss the top of Sara’s head and asked, “What was that for?”

  Sara released her and looked up. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me be in your show. It’s the most exciting night of my life.” Tears filled the girl’s eyes, and Anne wiped them away with her thumbs.

  “I’m glad. And it was my pleasure and privilege to include you.”

  Sara reached out and squeezed her again. Anne laughed nervously.