by Dancing
Grinning, she pulled back. "I do, too, but after all,
you have paid me for tango lessons, so I feel honor-
bound to share my knowledge."
"In that case, share away."
"All right, tonight's lesson is on the fine art of the
glance."
"Excuse me?"
"You know. The glance. Now, in America, it may be
fine to walk right up to a woman and ask her to dance,
but in many other parts of the world, they use a far more
subtle method. Eye contact."
"You've got my attention."
"Good. Now, pretend we've never met."
"Wait a minute. That doesn't sound like fun."
"Humor me." She crossed the room to back onto the
low reception desk. Legs crossed, showing an unfair
amount of thigh, she said, "Okay, do you hunger?"
"Like a dieter for lasagna."
Laughter sparkling in her eyes, she shook her head.
"My sweet Dalton, what am I going to do with you?
This is not the time for jokes, but passion. Look at me.
Really look at me. Let me feel your desire."
Trying to calm his pulse, he asked, "You're presum-
ably teaching me to dance in any setting, right?"
"Of course."
"What if someday, instead of dancing in a beauty
pageant, I'm at a South American conference and to be
polite, ask an associate's grandmother to step into my
arms? Do I really want her feeling my desire?"
"I'm pretending you didn't ask that. Every woman,
regardless of her age or station, longs to feel desired."
Dalton grinned. "Thinking back, just the other day I
did charm the lovely widow Baker into trusting us with
her extensive financial holdings. Who knows?" he said,
puffing out his chest, "now that I've honed my skills,
maybe I can get all of her bridge buddies to give me their
business, as well."
"What kind of monster have I created?"
"If you're lucky, you might find out."
Arms crossed, rolling her eyes, she said, "Back to our
lesson, you have to make your partner feel cherished and
adored. Make her."
During her scolding, Dalton had crossed the room.
Rose wanted to feel cherished and adored, did she? He
fixed her with that concentrated stare she'd requested,
then traced a path down her shoulder. When she
shivered despite the room's growing heat, he figured he
was on the right path.
"That's good," she said, voice breathy. "I think
you're getting the hang of it. But please don't try
anything like that on sweet Mrs. Baker. I don't think
her heart can take it."
"Can yours?" He dipped his head to kiss her, but just
when their lips touched, he pulled back.
"That's not fair."
"And you wearing that dress is?" As the music inten-
sified, he kissed the base of her throat, then moved on
to her neck.
"If you object that strongly, I can cover it with a
baggy sweater."
"Don't bother," he said, nibbling her earlobe. "Where
you're concerned, inequality's not so hard to take."
"Yes, but—" she sucked in a deep breath when he
slid his hand along her inner thigh "—what about
fairness to me?"
"Believe me, honey, neither of us will be leaving this
room until all issues are addressed," Dalton assured her.
To seal that promise, he gave her the kiss he'd previ-
ously denied. Starting out soft, mingling their breath
before pressing his lips fully to hers. He tasted the cham-
pagne on her tongue, sucking her lower lip, running his
hands through her hair.
If he were a wise man, he'd back away now. He'd
remind himself that even though it was Friday night, he
still had to be at his office bright and early in the
morning. More important, Rose might come across as
a strong, available woman, but with the ghost of her
husband still in her heart, she was anything but strong.
She was an amazing person, and as such, deserved
more than he could comfortably offer. Sure, he wanted
very much to marry one day. He longed to start that
family of his own his parents were always nagging
him about, but was this really the time? Was Rose
really the woman?
"I won'tdoit." As the exclamation on the end of her
declaration, Mona slammed a box of penny loafers on
the shoe store's checkout counter. "That woman's not
civilized."
Rose nibbled her pinkie, not for the first time won-
dering how she'd let herself be talked into trying to
ease tensions between Mona and Alice. But then, she
hadn't had to be convinced, she'd volunteered. Thank-
fully, on a Monday morning, the store was still empty,
which would hopefully leave plenty of time for her to
plead her case. "Seeing how I hardly know either of
you, I don't feel qualified to judge Alice's character."
"Then why are you here?"
"To hopefully appeal to your sense of civic pride.
Dalton says—"
"I should've guessed. He's behind this, isn't he? He
never did want to be on the pageant committee, and once
he found out it was his year to dance while the judges
tally, he pitched a full-blown fit."
"Yes, well—"
"If anyone needs a lecture about civic duty, I think
it's him."
"Mona, trust me, Dalton, more than anyone I've ever
known, is familiar with the concept of duty. Now, the
way I see it, this pageant has to be planned. Are you
willing to put aside whatever petty differences you and
Alice have in order to put on the best pageant Hot
Pepper has ever seen?"
"Who fed you a happy pill?"
Rose chose to ignore that remark.
"Look," Mona said, stepping out from behind the
counter to straighten the sale rack, "I don't mean to
sound unneighborly, but you've been in town only a few
months, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, that hardly gives you the right to go poking
your nose into town affairs. You're not even a cham-
ber member."
"I own a business. Doesn't that give me the right to
join?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"And as a downtown business owner, don't I have
just as much at stake in seeing the festival and pageant
be a continued success as anyone else in Hot Pepper?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"Never mind," Rose said. "I see why Alice prefers
not working with you."
"Wait just a doggone minute. Everyone knows I'm the
more reasonable of the two of us. Besides which, most
everything is done, save for the awarding of the crown.
Oh—and I was going to ask you about putting on an ex-
hibition of sorts with some of your younger students.
We—I mean, I—thought it would be darling to see your
junior dancers do a number. You know, sort of a warm-
up to Dalton's grand finale with the outgoing queen. For
that matter, you and Dalton can do a number, as well."
"That's a great idea," Rose said. "I think that'll be a
lot of fun for the little girls in the audience, dreaming
of their own turn to be in the pageant." And I'll get to
spend more time in Dalton's arms.
"That's exactly what I told Alice."
"So then Frank and Dalton can count on you to
handle the pageant from here on out, and I'll tackle the
exhibition planning?"
"As long as I don't have to see Alice, I'll be happy
to do all I can to help."
"Let me guess," Dalton said in Rose's kitchen, up to his
elbows in soap suds while doing dinner dishes from
Rose's roasted chicken and scalloped potatoes. "Later,
when you spoke with Alice, she took credit for every-
thing, then said she'll be happy to keep pageant prepara-
tions moving forward as long as Mona isn't involved."
"You do read minds," Rose said, voice laced with
sarcasm while drying the plate he'd handed her.
"Mommy," Anna asked, bounding into the kitchen,
skidding the last four feet on her duck slippers, "can Mr.
Dalton read my bedtime story?"
"If it's okay with him."
"Fine by me, as long as it's not a girlie story." He
made a face. "No rainbows or bunnies. I'm allergic."
Hands on her hips, the girl raised her chin. "You
can't be allergic to bunnies. Everybody loves bunnies."
The argument lasted through Cinderella, then Beauty
and the Beast, after which, Anna took a purple bunny
from the pile of stuffed animals sharing her bed and
kissed Dalton with it.
Squealing with glee, she said, "See? You didn't die,
or anything."
"Thank goodness," he said. "I'm so glad I took my
antibunny medicine this morning."
"I guess I'm glad, too," she said, wrapping him in a
surprise hug. "My daddy died."
"I know. I'm sorry. You must miss him a lot."
"I do. But Mommy misses him more. She never
sleeps. And sometimes I hear her crying."
"What do you do when that happens?"
"I used to get up and give her hugs, but now I think
she gets all secret mad at me because she likes pretend-
ing she's not sad so I won't be sad."
Heart aching for the two of them, Dalton asked,
"How does that make you feel?"
"Sad."
"Yeah. Me, too."
"She cried bunches last night."
"You sure it was last night?"
"Uh-huh." Swell. So much for his hope that their love-
making would magically cure Rose of her lingering grief.
"Mr. Dalton?"
"Yes?"
"You shouldn't be afraid of bunnies. They're warm and
cuddly. I think if you tried holding one, you'd like them."
"Thank you, sweetie. I promise to give bunnies
another try."
She yawned. "Okay. Well, I'm going to sleep."
"Sweet dreams," he said, kissing the top of her head.
He left the girl's room and shut the door just as Rose
headed that way. "Already done? The phone rang about
two minutes after you started."
"Who was it?"
"Can you believe Alice? She wanted to volunteer her
sewing expertise for making costumes."
"Not surprising. Word must have already gotten
around that Mona's back on board the pageant train, and
Alice didn't want to look bad."
"You think she's that shallow?"
"Eh, she's all right. She does a great job at the bank.
She's been there so long, sometimes I think she knows
more of what's going on than either Dad or myself." He
headed for the kitchen to finish washing up, but he also
needed some distance from Rose. His mind was still
reeling from Anna's confessions.
"Mona caught me off guard today when she said I
had no right worrying about chamber business when I'm
not a member."
"Well, that's easy enough to fix." Unlike the issues
making you cry every night. The knowledge that he
wasn't enough for her hit like a punch in the gut. But
then, they hadn't even known each other that long. What
had he expected? By his own admission, he wasn't
anywhere near ready for a commitment. He wasn't her
savior, but her friend.
Er, wouldn't that be lover?
Heat rose up his neck.
Good Lord, he should've cooled things off. He
should've been strong enough for the both of them.
Trouble was, he was tired of being strong, tired of
being noble. Just once more, he longed to throw
caution to the wind and—
"You're frowning."
Turning away from her, gripping the counter, he said,
"Anna said you cry a lot. Like as recently as last night."
"My daughter talks too much."
"You're denying it?" He turned to face her, and when
she looked down, he cupped her chin, forcing her to
meet his gaze. "Because if everything's fine with you,
now would be a great time to tell me."
Wrenching free of his hold, she escaped to the living
area, taking a seat in John's chair. Coincidence? He
didn't think so. Especially not when she wrapped her
arms around herself in a hug.
"Dammit, Rose..." He went to her, fell to his knees
in front of the armchair she'd admitted she kept as a
memento of her husband. "If you didn't want to be with
me, why the hell didn't you say so?"
"I do want to be with you," she said on the heels of a
sob. "That's the problem. But part of me wants to be with
John, too. It's like he's here," she said, beating her chest,
"but not here." She waved to the room. "If he's going to
be gone, why won't he just leave? Why can't I be free to
live?"
"You can be," he said, brushing at her tears with the
pads of his thumbs. "But, honey, not that I'm an expert,
but it doesn't happen overnight. If you slept with me,
hoping our being together would somehow change
things inside of you, I'm thinking you—we—made a
serious mistake."
He tugged her forward on the chair, pulling her into
his arms. "Let it out, honey. You have to let him go."
"I know," she said, "but I can't."
"Well, I can't compete with a ghost. And truthfully,
it hurts like hell knowing the times we were together,
you were comparing me to him." Like you really have
room to talk? How many times have you compared Rose
to Carly? Assuming that just because she has an artistic
career, that she's just as flaky as your first love?
"It wasn't like that. I like you, Dalton. A lot."
"Just not enough to let him go?"
"It's complicated. Just like you and your dad. I would
think of all people, you'd understand."
Coming to his feet, he sighed. "Yes, I should under-
stand, but I don't. I thought we had something here,
but—" God, why couldn't he just shut up? He had no
right drilling her like this. But he couldn't stop the ques-
tions in his heart.
"We do. I just need time to get my head in a good
place."
"When will you know?"
"What?"
He laughed sharply, sliced his hands through his hair.
"When you've reached that magical place?"
"It isn't like you to be cruel."
"Why do you think you understand me? We barely
know each other."
"I know you've spent a lifetime hiding from the man
you want to be."
"That's rich. A lecture about hiding, coming from
you?"
"Where are you going?" she asked when he headed
for the back door.
"What's it look like?"
"You can't just leave like this. Mad. I thought you
were going to work on your sculpture?"
"Funny, but I'm just not in the mood."
Alone, driving down Bayou Road on a moonless
night, Dalton knew there was a lot he should be thinking
about, but only one thing stuck in his mind. The hollow
look in Anna's eyes when she'd talked about her father.
He shouldn't be upset with Rose for her loyalty to a man
she'd obviously loved. Wouldn't he want the same level
of commitment from the woman he someday married?
Trouble was, in Rose's arms he'd toyed with the
notion that maybe he had found her. The one and only
woman for him. But how could Rose be his when she
belonged to another guy?
And what was he supposed to do about the bank?
With each passing day he felt more out of control. Not
in the sense that the job itself was difficult for him. He
could have done it blindfolded. But he resented it like
hell. Just pulling his SUv into his assigned spot in the
morning left him reaching for antacid. He couldn't go on
like this, but he didn't have a clue what he'd rather do.
Yes, sculpting was fun, but so was eating cupcakes,
and he sure couldn't support his future family on that.
Next time he saw Rose, maybe he could brainstorm
escape plans, alternate careers that might bring him
more peace while still paying the electric bill. But after
some of the harsh things he'd said to her, would there
even be a next time?
Dalton couldn't say for sure whether what he felt for
Rose was the real deal or crazy infatuation. One thing
he did know was that he couldn't bear the thought of her
still crying.
Punching her number into his cell, he prayed she'd
answer.
"Dalton?" she asked after the third ring, voice hoarse.
"Good. You're up. I'm on my way."
Chapter Ten
Seeing Dalton's SUv's lights shimmer off the living
room wall would have previously inspired Rose to run
a brush through her hair and apply fresh lipstick. But it
wasn't as if Dalton hadn't already seen her at her worst.
She wasn't thinking only about their argument, but that