by Various
Liz’s mouth dropped open in an O of surprise. SoNo, South Norfolk, was about a forty-minute drive to a thriving bar and club scene. Rachel wanted to go clubbing? Bookish Rachel in her no-nonsense braid and glasses? They never went clubbing. She must be very serious about a casual fling.
“Really?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Rachel shook her head. “I know, it’s crazy, but I just need to shake things up a bit.” She gestured to the door and locked the storage area behind them. She smiled at Liz. “Okay, chicken?”
She threw an arm around Rachel’s shoulders and tilted her head against her friend’s. “Okay, egg.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ryan pulled his silver Ford Taurus down the street from the McMansion where his mark allegedly left every Thursday night for an illicit affair. Or a night class in the city, as he’d told his wife. Either way, Ryan would get paid. He pulled out his cell and texted Shane. Tonight was the dance class.
Ryan: Is Rachel going too?
He waited. Shane was probably finishing up at work. The class wasn’t for another couple of hours. He just needed to know if Shane was going to have Liz in his arms all night tonight or if he’d be dancing with Rachel too. He rolled his shoulders to loosen some of the tension already building there.
Dammit. What did it matter? He knew Shane was better for Liz. They had the same upstanding-citizen-of-society personality. He thought of the fire in Liz’s eyes when she got pissed. That they didn’t have in common. Shane hardly ever got mad. Women loved him, said he was a good listener and so sensitive. He actually had women friends. Not to mention that he took relationships seriously. His brother had only been with two women. Two long relationships. Liz had marriage and white picket fence written all over her. They were a match if he’d ever seen one. Shane just needed the cojones to make a move.
His cell chimed.
Shane: Just me, Liz, and Gran
Dammit.
A cherry red Porsche zipped down the driveway of his mark. Warren Carter would be easy to spot in traffic. He followed at a slow pace. So far, the case was typical midlife crisis stuff—sports car, toupee, probable young lover. According to his wife, Warren left at five p.m. every Thursday and returned between eleven and twelve p.m.
He hit the radio and drove, following Warren onto a series of highways, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I don’t even like dancing. Up ahead, Warren put on his blinker to exit onto the Hutchinson River Parkway. Looked liked they’d be heading to good ole NYC. An easy place to blend in with the crowd to meet your lover on the side.
He followed Warren’s Porsche onto a jam-packed Cross County Parkway and, within a mile, came to almost a dead stop. He fiddled with the radio dial, searching for a traffic report. Was it an accident?
He thought of Gran and her accident. It had changed her. Not in a good way. She was taking more risks than a lady her age should. And Liz was encouraging her!
Traffic started to move again. A vision of Liz in her buttoned-up shirt and ironed pants dancing a waltz came to him. What was he worried about? She probably never had impulsive hot sex. She was more the wine me, dine me, three months into a relationship, and they made the mutual decision to do it.
And she had declined his dinner invitation.
By the time he reached the city, he’d convinced himself that Liz was an uptight control freak and he should stop wasting his time thinking about her. He turned onto West Forty-Second Street and followed only one car behind his mark. What was Warren Carter up to?
A few more turns and Warren pulled into a parking garage. Ryan got lucky and found a parking spot around the corner.
He waited patiently for Warren to emerge. A few minutes later, Warren left the garage and hurried down the busy Manhattan sidewalk. Ryan followed several paces behind as Warren walked several blocks more and finally stopped. He pulled open the glass door of a building and went inside. Ryan sped up and read the sign on the door: Marie’s French Cooking School.
Maybe he could still make it back in time for that dance class. Warren was taking a cooking class. Case closed.
Ryan exhaled sharply. He wasn’t doing his job if he left it at that. He waited until it seemed everyone had arrived for class, then climbed the stairs to the second-floor classroom. Twelve students gathered around a large kitchen island while a plump woman with bleached-blond hair, teased to nearly a foot above her head, instructed them in a French accent. “Zee egg whites must be fluffy. Zey are the heart of our soufflé.”
Shit. Warren Carter was smiling down at a brunette young enough to be his daughter. She kept touching his arm, all fluttery lashes and giggles. He pulled the microcamera from his pocket and took a few pictures. He knew he had to stick around and confirm if Warren went anywhere with the brunette after class. He headed back downstairs to wait it out in the car.
Cooking class with no follow-up meant nothing. Harmless flirting. But if they went to her place or a hotel, he needed that proof.
Relax. Shane is notoriously slow to make a move. He pushed their stupid dance class firmly out of his mind.
~ ~ ~
“This is nice, the three of us,” Maggie said from the passenger side of the convertible. “You’re going to have a blast, Shane.”
Shane leaned forward from the back seat. “I’m sure I will, Gran,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the breeze from the open convertible.
Liz glanced back at Shane, his red hair whipping around in the wind. “Maybe I should put the top up.”
“Why?” Maggie asked. “It’s a gorgeous night.”
“It’s okay,” Shane called. “Next time I’ll bring a hat.”
A short while later, Liz pulled into the parking lot. She pulled off her baseball cap and brushed out her hair. Maggie checked her look in the mirror, adding some lip gloss. Liz passed Shane her brush, and he smoothed his hair back to its usual side sweep over his forehead.
“Let’s do this,” Maggie said.
The three of them headed for the front door, and Shane held it open. Liz touched his arm as she passed. “You’re going to be very popular here, so all I ask is that you cut in whenever Dick tries to dance more than one dance with me. Please, I’m begging you.”
“No problem.”
They headed into the mirrored room to find Jorge and the rest of the class from last week. Dick wiggled his fingers at her. “That’s him,” she said under her breath.
Dick hurried to her side, pointedly ignoring Shane. “Hello, Liz. I’ve been practicing my dance moves.” He did a little shuffle in place, one hand on his protruding belly, the other in the air where presumably she’d be. “Save a dance for me.”
Liz grabbed Shane’s hand; it felt warm and safe in hers. “This is my boyfriend, Shane. Shane, this is Dick.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Shane extended his hand.
Dick did not shake it. “What’s that?” He looked back toward the gaggle of women. “I think Sally is calling me.” He turned and stomped off toward Sally, the tall, thin woman that Pam had danced with last week. She looked surprised to see him.
“I feel bad,” Shane said with a cheeky grin. “He was really into you.”
She laughed and smacked his arm.
“I guess I have to dance with you now, since you’re my girlfriend.”
She smiled up at him. “I guess you do.” It sure beat dancing with the gnome.
Maggie’s trilling laugh carried over to them from where she was busy flirting with Jorge. He smiled down at her like she was the rice to his beans.
“That’s Jorge,” Liz whispered.
“Gran’s flirting. I’ve never seen that. It’s like seeing a cow suddenly milk itself.”
She stared at him. Is Maggie the cow? Is she milking herself?
Jorge clapped twice. “And…let’s begin. Pair up. Arianna, cha-cha number three.”
Arianna started the music, then met Jorge in the center of the dance floor, where they demonstrated the cha-cha.
; “This is the basic triple step,” Jorge called, “right, left, right, and one and two.” He spun Arianna around, and the cha-cha steps continued in perfect synch with each other. “And cha-cha-cha.” He spun her around again so she was facing the class, and they continued a sideways cha-cha-cha.
Shane and Liz exchanged looks of horror. How would they ever manage that?
Jorge and Arianna’s dance ended, and Maggie was right there to take Arianna’s place. “Me first,” she said.
Jorge smiled and took Maggie’s hand. “Everyone take your partner’s hand and practice the triple step. Right, left, right.”
Shane took Liz’s hand. She stepped right; he stepped right into her. “Ow.”
“Sorry,” Shane said.
“Right, left, right,” Liz said. “Don’t stand so close to me, or we’ll bump.”
“Right, left, right,” he muttered, rigidly going back and forth. He stopped suddenly as the music wore on. “Now what?”
“I think we do it again, but with one foot staying in place. Just a little step.”
They began again and heard Maggie say, “Oh, Jorge, you’re wonderful!”
Shane’s knee bumped into her leg, throwing her off balance. “Ah!”
“Sorry, Liz,” he said, reaching for her to keep her upright. “I haven’t danced anything but a slow dance, and that’s just swaying back and forth.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. You’ll get it.”
But he didn’t.
By the end of the class, Liz felt bruised and exhausted from Shane’s constant missteps. They just couldn’t figure out how to move together. She looked longingly at Dick, who was now doing an impressive cha-cha with Sally. The older woman was flushed with delight as he spun her expertly.
Even Miss Pinched Lips was dancing enthusiastically with that sweet woman Pam. She waved to Pam as Diane whirled her around again.
Pam smiled. “Hi, sweetie, I forgot your name.”
“Liz,” she said in a loud voice.
Pam barely got a chance to nod before Diane whirled her away.
Maggie was the luckiest of them all. The chemistry between her and Jorge crackled in the air with smoldering looks as he returned to her again and again for more instruction. The two moved together so beautifully, she could feel the sparks between them from across the room.
Liz felt a stab of jealousy. She wanted a guy who looked at her like that. Like he wanted her for dessert.
After class, Maggie joined her and Shane while Jorge said goodbye to his students. Maggie dabbed her glowing face with a lace handkerchief she’d stashed in her cleavage. “I’ll just be a minute, you two. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Liz exchanged a look with Shane as Maggie walked with swinging hips back to Jorge. They cracked up.
Shane held the door for her. “I think we’ve been dismissed.”
“I think they’re going to hook up,” Liz said as they walked to the car.
“In the dance studio?” Shane asked.
“No, but soon. They seem really into each other.”
“So weird.”
“I know.” She sighed and stopped next to the car.
Shane stood next to her. “Sorry I’m a terrible dancer.”
She bumped him with her hip. “Hey, it was your first time. I’ve had two whole lessons.”
He grinned. “You want to go to a barbecue at Trav’s place on Sunday? Just family. But you could bring a friend.”
She smiled. “Sure. I’ll ask Rachel too.”
His ears turned redder than his hair. “Good.”
“Hey, you guys!” Maggie called as she left the dance studio. “Wasn’t that great? Didn’t you just love it?”
“You sure loved it, Gran,” Shane teased. “You and Jorge.”
“Oh, you,” she said.
Liz unlocked the car, and they all got in. She put down the roof, and the wind messed up their hair again on the way home.
“Listen, Liz, you don’t have to drive me anymore,” Maggie said. “Jorge said he’d be happy to pick me up and drop me off.”
“Oh, really?” she asked casually.
“Yes, you can still come to class, though. Not trying to scare you away.”
Shane was quiet in the back seat.
“I think I’ve had enough lessons, Maggie. Enjoy yourself.”
“But not too much!” Shane piped up.
“No such thing as too much!” Maggie yelled back to him. Then she lifted her arms in the air in the V of victory. “Woo-hoo!”
Chapter Fifteen
Liz had some free time the next morning. It was a beautiful summer day, and she decided it would be fun to go for a drive with Maggie.
She rang her friend’s doorbell at ten o’clock. She knew Maggie was an early riser.
“Liz, what a lovely surprise. Come in.” Oddly, Maggie was still in a nightgown—a lacy cotton thing that ended at the knees. Her hair looked sort of tousled. And she wore bunny slippers. She joined Maggie in the living room, where they usually sat.
“Can I get you some tea?” Maggie inquired. She seemed unusually cheerful considering she just woke up.
Jorge, in a ruffled yellow terrycloth robe, walked in from the kitchen, carrying a mug. “I just put on a pot of coffee if you’d prefer that.” He positively glowed when he smiled.
“Jorge! Hello!” Liz’s voice rose to the octave of a cat whose tail has just been stepped on. “I am…so, so”—she backed toward the front door—“sorry. I should’ve called first. Next time I’ll call.”
She grabbed the door and opened it.
“Bye, sweetie!” Maggie said.
Jorge whispered something in a low, sexy voice, and Maggie giggled.
Liz quietly shut the door. Omigod. She just prayed Ryan didn’t find out.
She took the porch steps quickly and practically sprinted down the front walk, stopping abruptly at the sight of Ryan coming down the sidewalk. “Ryan! Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me at Ernie’s?” The diner was in Eastman, a good twenty minutes away. Less chance of running into anyone in town while she gently broke the news that Maggie may have “met” someone.
He looked down at the to-go cup in his hand. “I have coffee.”
She rushed up to him and put a staying hand on his arm. “A hot breakfast, then? Pancakes?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Maybe another time. I was just stopping by to check on Gran, see if she needed any work done around here. How was dance class?”
“Great!” Liz chirped. “You know, I think Maggie’s all set. But, gosh, I could go for a walk. Join me?” She tried to tug him along, but he was six foot, one hundred eighty-five pounds of not budging.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on, Liz?”
Liz didn’t know how else to stop the blow-up about to happen when Ryan discovered his grandmother with her new, hot, younger lover. Distraction time.
“Kiss me,” she squeaked before throwing herself in his arms.
~ ~ ~
Ryan didn’t need any more invitation. He’d been thinking about doing just that ever since the first time he’d kissed her. Then the timing had been bad; this timing worked just fine. His hand tangled in her silky hair as he leaned down and kissed her. She let out a little moan and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He tasted her, deepened the kiss, demanding more, and she gave it, opening for him. His tongue mated with hers. He slid his hand from her hair, down her spine, tugging at her shirt. He needed to feel skin. He slipped a hand under her shirt, stroking her back. Then he slid his hand lower, over her thin pants, cupping her pretty little ass and pressing her closer to where he wanted her. She moaned and rocked against him. He felt like he was going to lose it right there. He could feel everything through his basketball shorts. In the distance, a siren went off, and she broke off the kiss.
Her eyes were wide, her lips rosy and wet, her hair mussed. He reached for her again, but she pushed him away.
“Ryan, we’re on yo
ur grandmother’s front lawn.”
He knew, but he didn’t care. This had been a long time coming. Still, he wouldn’t object to going somewhere a little more private.
He put his mouth to her ear. “My place is only a few blocks away.”
She shivered. “Ryan.”
He wasn’t finished. He set his coffee down and watched as she diligently tucked her shirt back into her ironed beige pants that stopped at her sexy ankles. Her blush made him smile. You can try to look uptight, but I know you like it hot.
He smoothed a lock of her hair back behind her ear and stroked her cheek. She leaned into his hand. He kissed her temple and feathered soft, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw to her neck, where he nipped her.
She jolted, and her eyes flew open. “Okay,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him down the sidewalk. He left his coffee, not wanting to give her a second chance to change her mind.
He couldn’t believe he was hooking up on a Friday morning with a buttoned-up Liz. He couldn’t wait to pull off every layer to see what she hid underneath.
He squeezed her hand as they walked toward his house. She gave him an uneasy smile. Uh-oh. I’m losing her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stiffened. “Yeah, sure. Fine.” She cleared her throat and looked straight ahead. Her stride was tight and tense.
They walked in silence while he scrambled to come up with something to put her at ease. His house was just a couple of blocks away. The heat of their previous kiss seemed to be fading in the face of her nerves. He stopped short and pulled her in for another kiss. No sooner had he touched her lips than she pushed him away.
“Ryan,” she whispered fiercely. “We’re on the sidewalk. Please.”
He put his hand on the small of her back and tugged her closer, kissing the side of her neck. She leaned into him with a whimper. That was more like it.
She straightened suddenly and walked at a brisk pace toward his house. “Ryan?”
He kept up. “Yeah?”
“You sure about this?”
“Absolutely.” He looked up and down her fine, curvy body.