Hot Doc from Her Past
Page 16
The second to last participants entered the ring, and Tessa tried to get herself to a place where she could concentrate on what needed to be done. When she went to catch Marcos’s eye, she was surprised to find him looking elsewhere. She frowned, continuing to sing along with the rest of the group. Normally the pair would make eye contact and prepare to go forward.
Something was wrong. His epilepsy?
Her nerves went on high alert, trying to figure out what she should do. She really didn’t want to enter that ring alone and go through a series of moves that had no purpose except to show off. One partner fed off the give and take of the other.
And if Marcos was sick, she wanted to be there to help take care of him.
Just as Clay had wanted to be there for her. For the baby. God, she’d made such a phenomenal mess of things.
The participants currently in the ring were slowly backing toward their spots, the signal for her and Marcos to move forward.
She had to do it. She’d given her word. Maybe he’d arranged for one of the other members of the studio to take his spot. If so, she’d soon find out.
Stepping forward with the low ducking side steps that kept to a strict beat, she glanced again to see that Marcos hadn’t budged from his spot at the perimeter of the ring.
What was going on?
Then someone moved just beyond the edge of the roda, and the group parted to let whoever it was pass.
Her heart stopped in her chest, and for a second she thought she might fall to the ground. It was Clay. He was dressed in his white capoeira gear, his yellow cord knotted at the side of his waist. And he was moving toward her in those familiar crouching strides.
Tears formed in her eyes, making it hard to focus for a second. She blinked them away, sure she was seeing things.
But Clay was still there, passing to her side, leaning to and fro as he did, reminding her of a cobra. Only his eyes didn’t have the dead look of a snake. They looked alive and warm and…
“Got your invitation,” he said, just as he slid past again.
He had! And he was here.
She arched her spine and placed her hands on the ground behind her, powering into a back flip that carried her away from him, before pivoting on her heel, the need to see him—be close to him—overwhelming. “I’m sorry.”
He bounced forward, leaping into the air, one leg curving high over her head as she went into a crouch. “For the invitation?” He landed. Spun toward the other side of the circle.
She had to wait for him to return to give her response. “No.”
They advanced and retreated again and again, demonstrating kicks, turns and other techniques, but each time they came together, one of them brought a new message.
“Sorry for what?”
“Being stubborn.”
“You are.”
“I know.”
The next time Clay passed, his hand brushed across hers, making the move look planned. “Why am I here?”
Come on, Marcos. Call time. I need to tell him the truth.
He came by again. “Why, Tess?”
She couldn’t do this. Not anymore. So she stopped dead, right in the center of the roda. No longer moving to the beat. No longer putting on a show. Her eyes were centered wholly on Clay, who took one look at her and ceased all movement, as well. They stared at each other across the circle as the rhythm instruments faltered, the clapping and singing dying away a section at a time.
Then Clay was striding over to her and taking her by the shoulders. “Tell me, Tessa.”
“You’re here… because I want you to be. I love you.”
The whole circle went silent.
“God. I never thought I’d hear you say that.” His hands cupped her face. “I love you, too. But we need to be able to help each other—both of us. I need to be able to do things, without you considering it charity and pushing me away.”
Hope soared in her chest.
“I know. I’ll try. I’ll have to, because I think I really am pregnant.” She gave him a wry smile, knowing she would be battling herself about accepting his help but knowing it was a fight she had to win. And she would. Because Clay was worth it. And so was the precious life that might be growing inside her.
“You are?”
“I think so.”
His eyes closed, and he pressed his forehead tight against hers in a way that made her eyes sting and her breath stick in her lungs.
“I want marriage,” he said.
“Can we discuss it?”
An exasperated chuckle met her ears. “Can we compromise?”
Slowly, very slowly, she hooked her right foot behind his calf and swept his legs from under him. Down he went onto the mat, with her right beside him.
“Yes,” she whispered. “We can compromise.” With that, her lips met his in front of God and everyone, handing him a promise that was stronger than any legal document. She knew he’d want to marry her eventually—Clay was old-fashioned that way. But they could talk about the timing. She wanted to get through her residency first, but after that…
After that, she’d gain not only a husband but his sweet daughter in the process.
In the background, she became aware of a dull roar that began to gather strength. The sound of clapping, and shouting. Not just from the circle of capoeiristas but from the crowd, who’d watched the whole strange scene unfold. She pulled her lips from his with an embarrassed laugh, only to have him slide his fingers behind her head and draw her back down. “Don’t worry, Tessa, I’ll wait until we get back to my house to finish this. But I fully intend to.”
A shiver of anticipation rolled over her.
“Where’s Molly?”
“With Mom and Dad. They’re here somewhere, but they’ve promised to keep her for the night.” Clay climbed to his feet, helping her up and then swinging her into his arms. Members of the crowd hooted its delight at the unexpected turn of events.
If she’d thought those collection jars in the hospital had been outrageous after a simple kiss, she hated to imagine what would be drawn on them next.
It didn’t matter. Because, whatever it was, it would be the truth.
The musicians suddenly began beating out a frenzied rhythm while the rest of the group reacted by doing volleys of leaps, handstands and whatever other acrobatics they could fit in the now-crowded ring. From across the staging area Marcos gave her a quick wave and Brazilian thumbs-up sign of victory, just before Clay turned and carried her away from the crowds. Away from the music. Toward a future filled with fresh beginnings.
This time their match would be a lasting one, because it would be built on hard work, mutual respect and compromise. And soon, very soon, she hoped another adventure would come their way.
A new little capoeirista, ready to join the world of music, rodas… and love.
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ISBN: 978-1-474-00465-7
HOT DOC FROM HER PAST
© 2015 Tina Beckett
Published in Great Britain 2015
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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