by Ava Miles
“Isn’t that Rhett’s SUV?”
Elizabeth looked up the street, and sure enough, she spotted his car. The doors swung open, and her gasp rang out in tandem with Jane’s.
Rhett, Rye, Clayton, and Terrance got out of the car and swaggered down the block. In workout gear no less.
Chef T had brought an entourage. And holy hell. Her boss notwithstanding, the group was every woman’s fantasy come true. A bunch of red-blooded all-American alpha males.
Clayton even had on his black cowboy hat.
Why were Rye and Clayton still in town? They were supposed to have left yesterday after the bachelor party.
“Ladies,” Rye drawled when they reached them. “We’ve come for your class, Vix…I mean Elizabeth. Jane, good to see you.”
All of the men grinned, except for Terrance, who looked like he was still considering bolting.
“Congratulations on the engagement, Jane,” Clayton drawled. “Rhett’s been catching us up on all of your recent exploits. The both of you.”
“Thanks,” Jane responded and kissed each man on the cheek. “Are you dropping Terrance off for class?”
Like a mommy and daddy for a kid’s first day of kindergarten, Elizabeth almost said but didn’t.
Rhett puffed out his chest. “Nope. We’re all taking your class today.”
And when he fished into his lightweight workout jacket and pressed an envelope of cash into her hands, she could only stand there and pretty much blink, like an alien ship was hovering overhead.
“You’re all taking the class?” she squeaked.
Terrance just nodded as Rhett slung an arm around her shoulder, shaking her out of her reverie.
“It’s going to be fun,” Rye drawled.
“It sure is,” Jane breathed out and started laughing. “I’ll have to hang with you guys. It’s my first class too, and I don’t know the steps.”
“Great,” Clayton said, hooking his arm through Jane’s. “Come on, bubbas. We need to carve out a space for ourselves among the female folk.”
Rye held the door for everyone, but when Elizabeth and Terrance didn’t budge, he winked at them and made his way inside, leaving them alone.
“Are you auditioning for a new TV show called The Dancing Chef?” she teased.
His growl would have scared little children. “Just don’t back out on your end of the bargain.”
He yanked the door open, let her enter, and then followed her inside.
When she scanned the space, more surprises awaited her. Jill was already inside with an expanded posse of ladies, all of whom were talking to the guys.
But what made her smell a rat was the presence of Peggy—she never came to class—and Matt Hale’s sisters, who should have left for Denver yesterday like they usually did when they came to town for the weekend.
She took off her jacket with renewed determination. Someone had sung like a canary.
Her money was on Rhett. Terrance had probably told him, and God love him, the man couldn’t keep a secret unless he was at the poker table.
Other students strolled in and gasped when they spotted the four gorgeous additions to the class.
Time to take control, she decided, and fired up her new music—what she called an all-girl special—and clapped her hands. Terrance was going to earn every minute of their date.
“Let’s get started,” she said and turned to face the mirror to begin the warm up. This was going to be fun. She couldn’t wait to see these four gorgeous men struggle to keep up.
Then, as if choreographed, all the guys in class—except for poor Mr. Larkin, of course—took off their T-shirts and flung them to the right. All they had on were tight bicycle pants showing every curve of their tight asses and…well, how substantial they were in other areas.
Her mouth dropped open in pure shock.
Jill Hale and a few other women cheered.
“Holy shit,” she heard Jane say.
Laney Smithins mouthed, “Oh my,” to Dare Valley’s second grade elementary teacher, who was clutching her chest like she was in danger of imminent cardiac arrest. A few of the other women started fanning themselves, and old Mr. Larkin started clapping.
“I used to look just like that,” his old wizened voice said.
“Not when I knew you,” Alma fired back. “You over there, I like your cowboy hat, son.”
Yeah, Clayton had plopped that right back on his head once his shirt was off.
“Nice to not be the only man around here,” Mr. Larkin added over the sultry beat.
“Come over here and join us,” Rye, ever the performer, said to him.
And that’s how her class went from being dignified to dirty in the space of a heartbeat.
Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” had seemed like a reasonable selection until she saw Chef T’s Chippendale Posse move their hips right along with the ladies. Rhett and Clayton sure put their energy into it, even going so far as to run their hands down their chests in a move her stripper mother would have applauded. Not something she’d ever wanted to see her boss and adopted brother do.
Rye had a natural rhythm that spoke of years on the stage.
And then there was Terrance, whose eyes latched onto her like a grappling hook and just wouldn’t let go.
She’d thought her memory of his ripped chest had done him justice. It hadn’t. His griffin tattoos seemed to fly across his skin as he made the sexy arm movements of her dance routine. His washboard abs still made her melt, and the two Chinese character tattoos fanning down his ribs made her miss a step. How many times had she traced those foreign black letters with a finger, marveling at how well they suited him?
Intensity.
Passion.
If she had to describe Terrance Waters in two words, those were the ones she’d choose.
Especially as he stared her down and did his best to follow her sensual movements.
Which he was doing shockingly well. Especially the forward and backward thrusts. Not to mention the turns.
Her heart rate spiked for a whole new reason, and an ache of unfulfilled desire gathered in her belly.
By the time the second song pumped out, “On the Floor” by Jennifer Lopez, she was able to break Terrance’s gaze and give her attention to the rest of her class.
Brandi, the mother of five, was pretty much drooling over the newcomers, while Carrie, a divorced retiree, was making eyes at Rye.
Then she noticed how smooth all of the men’s movements were. Yeah, Rhett and Clayton were a few beats behind at times, especially on the sensual sashay turns, but Rye and Terrance were following her beat for beat.
The truth hit her like a flash.
They’d been coached.
By the time they reached the third song, “All the Single Ladies,” by Beyonce, she was sure of it. No man could have put one hand on the ground and twerked his butt like that without forewarning.
There was only one person in her class who could have sided with the enemy like this.
Jill Hale.
She danced over to the side of the room, summoning Jill to step forward and take the front with her. They both ran their hands down their chests, their hips moving in figure eights.
“I know you coached them,” she hissed so only Jill could hear.
The devious redhead just gave her a saucy Mae West wink and shuffled back to her spot, pausing to pat Rhett’s behind as she passed him, which made him laugh—along with Natalie, whose moves were also a little too spot on given that she’d never been to a class.
What had the redhead done? Given dance lessons on the side to everyone who was interested?
Well, if they thought she was going to go down easy, they were in for a surprise. After they finished “It’s Raining Men,” during which the men laughed themselves silly from beginning to end—except for Terrance, who still had that intent look on his face—she switched the music up. It was a song with an old routine.
The regulars would know it.
But no
t these first-timers.
Now they were really going to separate the men from the boys.
When the hot Latin number with a fast salsa beat came on, much faster than any of the other dances on her list, she executed the first few basic steps and then made a quick quarter turn.
None of the men got it, and she could almost hear Terrance grind his teeth as he fumbled.
“Girlfriend has teeth,” Jill called out.
She looked over her shoulder and said, “You betcha.”
Rhett chortled, totally lost now, and ran into Clayton. Then he decided it would be fun to get down and dirty with his boy, Rye, and the two of them faced each other and wiggled their hips, totally disregarding the music.
Her regulars stopped their dance moves, enthralled by the Alpha Show of Wonder.
The whole routine broke down.
She’d lost control.
Terrance grinned at her as he shoved Rhett, who’d bumped him playfully with his hips.
Resigned, she returned to the regularly scheduled program.
When Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like A Woman” came on, Clayton waggled his eyebrows at Terrance.
“You feeling it?” the odious cowboy asked.
Terrance ran his hands down his chest, laughing like a nutcase. “Definitely.”
Chef T was in the groove now.
Faced with the choice of losing total control of her class again by changing up the music or sticking to the routine Terrance and his Chippendale Posse knew, she decided to settle in and watch her upcoming date strut his stuff.
No reason the foreplay couldn’t start now.
It was time to make him drool.
And “Buttons” by the Pussycat Dolls would do just the trick. The song was pure sin, and dancing to it seductively was the perfect way to make a man grovel.
Closing her eyes, she started to weave her body like the most exotic belly dancer, running her hands up her torso just outside the zone of her breasts.
“No way,” she heard someone say, only to open her eyes and see Jill Hale trying to force Dare’s deputy sheriff to hold her girls.
“Cut that out, Jill,” Peggy cried, “or I swear I’ll shoot you.”
When Elizabeth executed a model walk forward, then bent over and swept her hips from right to left, she was sure she heard Terrance mutter, “Holy Christ.”
And there went another hundred dollars into his Cuss Fund.
By the time the song finished—Elizabeth’s last move was to run both hands through her blond hair—both she and Terrance were breathing hard, and his bicycle shorts looked uncomfortable. Poor guy.
But she wasn’t done with him yet.
Fergie’s “London Bridge” was going to destroy him.
Sure enough, halfway through the song when she slid down the mirror, moving her hips while facing the class, which usually made the women laugh uproariously, Terrance’s nostrils flared—a sure sign of arousal.
Yeah, she remembered.
Jill joined her against the mirror. “Come on, Nat! I know you want to be up here.”
Her cousin danced her way to the front, and all three of them did Fergie proud.
When Terrance swiped an arm across his head to wipe the sweat trailing into his eyes, Elizabeth’s inner glow spread throughout her belly.
Yeah, he wanted her. Bad.
When the cool-down rolled around, led by the diva herself, Cher, the men’s chests were dripping. Part of her wanted to towel Terrance off, but that would be unprofessional.
She could towel him off later.
Because she knew where their date would lead: to the hottest, screaming sex she’d ever had with anyone.
Her heart wouldn’t stay silent, but she simply couldn’t resist him anymore.
When the music faded, she faced the class again. “Thanks for coming. Especially our visitors. Feel free to come again.”
“I just might,” her boss drawled. “Great workout.”
“I could watch the view all day,” Terrance added in a husky voice.
Rye came up and hugged her, lifting her off the floor. “It was fun, Elizabeth. No hard feelings, I hope. We were only supporting our boy.”
“Never,” she told the country singer, noticing a cluster of women hovering behind them with their phones. “I think your fans want pictures.”
He laughed. “Good thing Tory isn’t the jealous type.”
As he strolled off to greet his fans, Terrance approached her. Any moisture left in her mouth dried up, and her gaze zoomed in on the trail of sweat winding its way down the center of his chest.
“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night,” he said, his voice hoarse with arousal.
She gulped. “But I thought you worked on Tuesdays.”
When he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, every hair on her body rose up in pure, wicked delight.
“If you think Mac would refuse to give me a night off after seeing me practice my ass off, you have another thing coming.”
Coming. Her mind totally went to the gutter.
“I might get Wednesday off too,” he whispered, trailing his finger down her neck.
Her eyes locked with his. “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
Silence spanned a heartbeat. “I know you were dancing for me.”
She fought the urge to lick her lips.
“And we’re not done dancing,” he told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Elizabeth.”
Just the way he said her name—like he was caressing her in an intimate place—had her breath seizing in her chest.
“Come on, T,” Rhett called out. “Jill wants a picture with us.”
That sexy scar shifted when his mouth kicked up. “Dr. Evil herself. If I’d known what a taskmaster she’d be, I’d have never asked her to teach me your routines.”
“Why did you ask her?”
He cocked his head to the right. “Isn’t it obvious? I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of the girl I like.”
Cupid’s arrow speared her heart but good at that admission. Rooted in place, she watched him walk off, admiring the chiseled muscles of his back and the sexy infinity symbol on his right shoulder.
Most of her regular students had left, but the men were hamming it up with Jill, who was laughing and cracking jokes. When they picked her up like she was a fallen tree, holding her across their chests, she shrieked.
“I’m in shock,” Jane said, coming to stand beside her. “Did that just happen?”
Having no words, Elizabeth only nodded.
Natalie approached them, Caroline and Moira behind her. “He’s really into you. I’m not usually a romantic, but I have to tell you…you’re a lucky woman. Not too many men would have the balls to show up here and dance like that in front of a bunch of women.”
No, not many would.
“Terrance’s balls have never been in question,” she responded.
“Elizabeth,” Jane gasped.
“Oh, stop. You know it’s true. Not like Matt’s are either. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go home and eat a pint of dark chocolate espresso ice cream.” Maybe that would curb her arousal for Terrance.
Right now she wanted nothing more than to rip his remaining clothes off.
Tomorrow night was too far away.
“Want company?” Natalie asked. “My sisters and I are going to leave for Denver early tomorrow morning. We could make it a girls’ night.”
“Why not? Let’s order pizza. And Jane, I’ll leave the wine to you.”
“Ah…I was kinda going to head home and umm…see Matt.”
“No doubt you’re planning to rip his clothes off,” she mused.
Jane socked her in the arm.
“Ouch.”
“Yes, I am, but there’s no need to say so in front of his sisters.”
Moira put her hands over her ears. “Please, we know you have sex with my brother. We just don’t want to think about it.”
“Right. Totally understood.
So, I’ll be going.” Jane kissed her on the cheek. “Call me tomorrow.”
As Jane said her goodbyes to the Hale sisters, Elizabeth heard Rhett call out her name.
“Come on over, darlin’. We want to take a picture with our sweet teacher.”
Natalie smothered a laugh and clapped her on the back. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
She sauntered over to where the four men stood, all of them still shirtless. Rye motioned for her to stand in the middle between him and Terrance—of course. Jill’s red curls were bobbing up and down from convulsive laughter as she positioned the phone for the picture.
“Closer,” she fairly sang out, enjoying every minute.
Terrance slid an arm around Elizabeth’s waist, causing her to jump. She glared at him.
“Closer,” Jill repeated.
Terrance ran his finger underneath her workout top and rubbed her bare skin, lighting a fire like a match to a matchbook. Her thighs clenched, and she fought a moan.
“Oh, take the freaking picture, you devious woman!” Elizabeth fired back.
“Hey! Just doing my part for the good of mankind.” Jill took a few pictures and promised to send them to everyone.
Rye and Clayton kissed her on the cheek before taking their leave, and Rhett chucked her under the chin.
Terrance only stood there, the pulse in his neck hammering. “Tomorrow.”
“Yes,” she answered breathily.
A smile flashed across his face. “Get used to saying that word. It’s about to become your favorite.”
And that’s what really scared her. When it boiled down to it, she’d never been able to say anything else to Terrance.
Chapter 16
Terrance and his friends were trending on Twitter the next day. A few photos of them at the dance class had gotten out, and given Rye and Terrance’s fame, they’d spread like wildfire. His publicist gave him a gleeful call and asked if they could put the picture on his new line of designer aprons.
He told her “No way in hell” and hung up while she was still cackling like a crone.
Thank God no one knew the real story. So far, it was only being attributed to Rye’s wild bachelor weekend in Dare Valley.
Let’s hope it stays that way.
His thoughts turned to his date with Elizabeth as he picked up what little there was to arrange in his house. Since he wasn’t here much, the place was pretty clean. And after being raised in a one-room studio apartment in New York City with a messy mother, he liked order.