‘There’s Raoul,’ Avery called across the table, raising her voice to be heard over the clapping.
Claudia nodded. She’d noticed. And he’d noticed her too, giving her a quick wink as he’d sambaed past earlier. He’d be over when he finished his set.
Luke frowned. Raoul. His eyes searched the dance floor for the man that Avery and Claudia were talking about as the lights came back on again and the dancers started up a tango. He spent the next fifteen minutes checking out each of the incredibly talented dancers wondering who the mysterious Raoul was. And what his relationship to Claudia might be.
He didn’t have long to wait.
As the performers finished their last dance they all split up and headed for the tables, cajoling people to dance with them. A tall, dark-haired man with very white teeth, a perfect tan and designer three-day growth made a direct beeline for Claudia.
Raoul, he presumed.
TWELVE
Claudia stood as Raoul approached. It had been such a long time and she’d missed watching him dance. He had the swagger that all good-looking men possessed and combined it with that loose-hipped sway of a dancer. And it would have been quite something had Claudia not known that Raoul was aware of every single pair of female eyes following him across the floor.
He was beautiful and he knew it.
Sure, Raoul was great to dance with and a fun occasional lover but Claudia had never entertained anything serious with him. When—if—the big L happened she wanted to be the centre of that man’s world. She needed a man who loved her more than he loved himself.
She deserved that, damn it.
Claudia was hyperaware of Luke’s gaze on her as Raoul closed the distance between them and swept her into his arms.
‘Raoul,’ Claudia exclaimed. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’
Raoul slid a hand onto her waist as he kissed both of her cheeks. ‘Mi querida. You look magnifica,’ he said, then stood back slightly to admire her dress.
Claudia knew that Raoul’s Spanish accent could be used like a lethal weapon on unsuspecting women but she also knew it came and went with remarkable ease. But she didn’t care—not tonight.
Luke clearly did though. She could feel the disapproval radiating off him in waves and she felt just a little triumphant.
‘You like?’ she asked, performing a sexy pivot from side to side for full effect, flirting just a touch.
‘You make all the men go a little crazy here tonight, I think.’ He grinned. ‘What you say, Miss Avery?’ he asked.
‘Definitely.’ Avery smiled as she greeted Raoul. He held out his hand and she placed hers inside, grinning when he kissed it.
‘Raoul,’ Jonah said, half standing as Raoul’s attention shifted and the two men shook hands.
‘And who do we have here?’ Raoul asked as his gaze came to rest on Luke.
‘This is Luke,’ Claudia said, jumping in before Luke, who didn’t look inclined to chit-chat, could say anything abrupt. ‘Raoul’s company runs our Latin dance classes and Latin nights at the Tropicana,’ she said.
She thought it was best not to introduce Raoul as her lover, no matter how much she wanted to make Luke squirm. Truth was it had been too long to claim him as that any more.
‘Ah,’ Raoul said. ‘This is the famous Luke.’ He held out his hand. ‘Nice to finally meet you. I have heard much about you.’
Luke vaguely remembered now seeing Raoul at a function when he’d come back last year to work out what they were going to do about being handed the management of the resort. He shook the other man’s hand when what he really wanted to do was to demand that Raoul remove his other hand from Claudia’s waist.
There was no way that hand said anything other than mine.
‘Darling,’ Raoul said as he dropped Luke’s hand and returned his attention to Claudia. ‘They’re playing a cha-cha. Your favourite.’
Claudia didn’t need to be asked twice. Luke might disapprove but she’d been dying to dance the second she’d slipped the gorgeous red dress over her head. And she was going out there to shake her booty with the best dancer in the room.
‘Lead the way,’ she said, ignoring Luke’s glowering, and allowed herself to be swept onto the dance floor.
Luke stood there stewing, watching as the other man walked off with Claudia.
His Claudia.
And he did not like what he saw as the dancing began. The dance floor had cleared a little around Claudia and Raoul as people stopped dancing to watch—consequently he could see every move they made. Thankfully the cha-cha didn’t appear to be a dance where the couples got too close and Mr Glitterpants seemed to be all about the rules of posture and body space and maintained his ruthlessly—Luke had seen enough clips from Strictly Come Dancing to know that.
But hell, if he had Claudia that close in that dress, the rules be damned.
He shook his head of the useless thought.
‘She’s good, isn’t she?’ Avery enthused from across the table.
Luke, who was about ready to gouge his own eyes out, was grateful for the interruption. He turned back around to face Avery. ‘Yes, she is. Where’d she learn to dance like that?’
‘Raoul taught her.’ Avery gave him a wink. ‘Private lessons, I think.’
Luke bet he had. His lips tightened. He did not want to think about Raoul and Claudia having private lessons.
‘We’re going to dance,’ Avery said, standing up, Jonah taking her hand and following suit. ‘You should ask Claudia to dance.’
Luke shook his head. ‘I don’t dance.’ Not like that anyway.
‘Sure you do,’ Avery teased. ‘All you have to do is hang on tight and shuffle your feet. That’s what Jonah’ll be doing.’
‘You got that right.’ Jonah grinned.
The cha-cha music came to an end and another tune started up. ‘Oh, I love this one!’ Avery exclaimed and dragged Jonah onto the dance floor leaving Luke to his indecision.
Luke wasn’t entirely sure what this one was but as Raoul’s swivel hips got a bit too near Claudia’s it was evidently going to be a lot more up close and personal than the cha-cha.
A little too up close and personal for his liking.
Before he knew it he was on his feet and storming onto the dance floor.
* * *
Claudia shut her eyes, pleased to be losing herself in the music and the syncopation of the dance. Raoul had taught her all she knew and was an excellent dance partner. Luckily on the dance floor he let all his ego and pretentions drop and just became one with the rhythm. Dancing with him was like dancing with the notes as they floated in the air.
And then Luke came along and ruined it. She heard a firm, ‘May I cut in,’ and opened her eyes to find Luke tapping Raoul very firmly on the shoulder while staring at her.
Raoul, who’d also been lost in the dance, looked momentarily puzzled, but he was much too indoctrinated with the code of the dance floor to deny Luke his request. There was an insane moment when she wanted to cling to Raoul’s shoulders and beg him not to leave her.
Luke didn’t really want to dance. He just didn’t want her to dance with Raoul. In her dress. With no wrap.
And there was also something slightly wild about Luke tonight. He didn’t look in the mood for anything light-hearted.
But then Raoul was bowing slightly and saying, ‘Of course,’ and moving away and Claudia was left facing Luke on a crowded dance floor. One hand had slid onto her hip and she couldn’t decide if the skin beneath burned or tingled.
‘I didn’t think you could dance,’ she said waspishly.
Luke nodded. ‘I can’t dance like that,’ he said. Raoul was all about keeping the frame and executing the moves perfectly. He was a dancer.
Luke wasn’t.
‘But I can dance lik
e this,’ he said and yanked her body hard against him.
Claudia gasped at the sudden intimate contact. It was completely out of left-field and she hadn’t had time to prepare for the impact. And then he started to move and things rubbed and there was friction and it felt so good—better than any expert dance move Raoul could pull—and she knew he felt it too as his hand tightened on her hip.
She wasn’t sure she could do this with Luke. This was twenty years of friendship on the line.
‘This isn’t dancing,’ she murmured, the husky note in her voice cutting straight through the music.
‘No. But it’s real. It’s not some fake display for Raoul to advertise his business.’
Claudia looked up into his face. Way up. She’d forgotten how tall he was. Or at least how much taller he was compared to her. Raoul, for all his Spanish good looks, didn’t quite make six foot and she had to readjust her centre.
His smooth jaw was just there and she could smell his spicy-sweet aftershave and if they’d been lovers, God help her, she would have stood on tiptoe and licked from the hollow of his throat all the way to his chin.
But they weren’t.
‘Why does me dancing with Raoul bother you so much?’
Luke, who had been trying desperately to look anywhere else but Claudia, found himself looking down at her.
A mistake.
Two ripe swells of cleavage greeted him, pushed up and out of the V of her halter dress from the way he was holding her all smooshed up against him.
He wished he knew the answer to her question but all he had were bone-headed Neanderthal reactions. Gut reactions.
Because I can’t stand the thought of him looking at your breasts. Any man here looking at them. I can’t stand knowing that he’s touched them.
Not when I haven’t. Not thoroughly anyway.
Yup. So not going to say that.
He dragged his gaze up to her face, her blue eyes glittering like polished turquoise in the spotlights. ‘I don’t know why it bothers me,’ he said. ‘It just does.’
Claudia would have been knocked on her butt had she been sitting near a chair. She hadn’t expected such raw honesty from him and she didn’t know how she felt. Part of her wanted to run and hide. The other part really wanted to lick his neck.
So she did the mature thing: she unlocked her gaze from his, dropping it to the patch of shirt that was right in front of her, and decided to change the subject. She cast around for something that would completely lampoon the warm buzz she could feel gathering down low as the delicious friction between them ramped up.
‘Why don’t you ever talk about Philippa?’
Luke stumbled slightly at the unexpected question. Bloody hell. She sure knew how to kill the buzz. ‘There’s nothing to say,’ he said tersely, keeping his gaze trained on a spot over her shoulder.
Claudia refrained from rolling her eyes. That statement in itself was a big blaring warning signal to his mental health. ‘What happened with you two?’
Luke’s jaw. ‘I don’t really think it’s any of your business,’ he said.
Thinking about Philippa’s betrayal, her infidelity, always left Luke feeling a little emasculated and he didn’t need that while dancing with a beautiful woman.
Even if it was Claudia. Who he shouldn’t be thinking about in relation to his masculinity.
Claudia fell silent for a few moments and just swayed to the music, but that was worse. Because that left her thinking and her thoughts were far from pure.
Far from sensible.
All she could think about was how her breasts rubbed against his chest, how hard and meaty his shoulder felt in her palm and the crazy thump in her groin as their bottom halves rubbed together and things got a little heated down there.
‘You broke your mother’s heart, you know?’ she said.
Again, another comment out of the blue but it was something she’d always wanted to say to him. Marrying Philippa and not inviting his parents had really hurt Gloria. She’d made a big deal out of being understanding but Claudia had been just outside the door when Gloria had broken down on her mother’s shoulder and it had been heart-wrenching to hear.
Maybe it wasn’t a fair thing to say but Luke had lived a fairly selfish life for a decade, far away from how many of his decisions had affected them all. Moving to the UK the first chance he got, getting married, not wanting anything to do with the resort.
It was his life and these were his decisions to make but they still had an emotional ripple effect.
Luke kept his eyes firmly fixed over her shoulder. ‘When I moved to London? I know.’
Claudia shook her head. ‘No. When you married Philippa and didn’t invite her to the wedding.’
‘What?’ Luke forgot about not looking at her as he searched Claudia’s face, forgot about dancing. ‘We didn’t invite anyone to the wedding. It wasn’t a...wedding...’ he spluttered, ‘with the dress and the cake and the...other stuff. It was a quick trip to the register office in our lunch break then back to work. We didn’t even go on a honeymoon for three months.’
Claudia blinked at him and barely managed to suppress a shudder. It sounded horrible. No wonder Philippa had left him. She’d known exactly the kind of wedding she wanted from the age of six. A full-on romantic affair on the beach just outside their doorstep and a huge reception at the Tropicana.
‘You know your parents would have travelled halfway round the world to be there with you when you got married regardless of how you chose to go about it.’
A spike of guilt lanced Luke as the truth in Claudia’s words found their mark and slashed hard. ‘We didn’t invite anyone,’ he reiterated. ‘Not even Philippa’s parents.’
Claudia shrugged. ‘Okay.’
‘Mum seemed okay with it when I spoke to her.’
It had never been his intention to hurt his mother and if he’d had any inkling that would be the outcome he would have paid for them both to fly over.
Claudia rolled her eyes. ‘Of course she did, you idiot. You were blissfully happy and she didn’t want to burst your bubble or burden you with her disappointment. She’s your mother—she was never going to put a guilt trip on you.’
‘But I suppose you have no compunction?’
‘Strangely enough, tonight I don’t, no.’
Luke glared down at her. He knew exactly how she felt. ‘It’s a strange old night,’ he said.
A trill undulated in her belly at the intensity in his gaze. ‘Amen,’ she muttered.
Their eyes locked momentarily before they glanced away from each other. Luke resumed dancing and Claudia followed suit. He had been happy, he remembered. Blissfully happy. It seemed like a long time ago now and time had mired it in such bitter memories, but he’d really thought Philippa was the one.
‘Maybe that’s why it failed...your marriage.’
Luke faltered again slightly but kept going. Dancing with Claudia like this was the sweetest torture. All soft and warm against him despite her sharp tongue and prickles.
‘Oh, this ought to be good,’ he said derisively. ‘Please do share why you think my marriage failed.’
Claudia shrugged. ‘All women want the fairy tale, Luke. The dress, the cake, the bridesmaids. Where’s the romance in a register office?’
Luke snorted. Not Philippa. Her lack of interest in a big event had puzzled him at the time—most women he knew wanted the fancy party, the whole shebang. But not Philippa. Of course, it had become evident only two years later why she hadn’t been bothered.
The bitter memories rose to the surface again and twisted a knife in his gut. ‘Dear little Claude,’ he said, ‘still on board the Love Boat, I see.’
Claudia froze as his patronising words slid down her back like cold slime. She’d thought he’d finally seen her as a woman
tonight—not some adoring little lapdog that followed him around and hero-worshipped him. Not some silly romantic girl with her head in the clouds.
She stepped out of his arms and glared at him. ‘I think I’m done with dancing.’
Luke glared back. ‘Me too.’
THIRTEEN
An hour later Claudia was still royally pissed off.
Lying on her bed in the dark, her red velvet dress twisted around her, she stewed away like some sappy freaking Cinderella who hadn’t got the prince after the clock had struck twelve.
Occasional flashes of lightning from the storm brewing outside slanted into the room in strobe-like bursts, illuminating her misery.
God, maybe she was as pathetic as Luke’s words had suggested.
Why weren’t life and love as simple as The Love Boat?
Why, more importantly, hadn’t she just kept her big mouth shut? Yes, she’d spoken some home truths, things he’d needed to hear, but who’d died and left her in charge of things Luke should know?
And what on earth had possessed her to spout on about where his marriage had gone wrong when she knew hardly anything about it? In fact, until tonight, all she’d known was the name of his ex and that they’d worked together at the same firm.
She’d seen a photo, of course—a tall, gorgeous, curvy brunette. Worldly and sophisticated. The exact opposite of her.
But that was it.
And she’d told Luke it was because their wedding hadn’t been romantic enough. She, who had been married exactly zero times, was dishing out marital advice!
Argh!
But, man, he’d been especially...infuriating/sexy/irritating tonight. Coming over all do you think you should be wearing that? and treating her as if she were some recalcitrant teenager who needed her virtue protected.
She laughed suddenly at the absurdity of it. Her virtue had been lost some time ago. Ironically on a cruise she and Avery had taken together when they’d been nineteen.
She knew he liked her in the dress. His eyes had practically bugged out of his head, for crying out loud. She knew he’d been aware of the delicious friction between them as they’d danced. So why didn’t the jackass just accept it for what it was and let it go?
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