by Merry Farmer
“Hey, right here, sailor,” Sandy said just as his energy began to flag.
He shifted his glance to meet her eyes, his heart skipping a beat when she winked at him. Instantly, his enthusiasm was back in full force. All he’d needed was a little push. They finished the dance in a swirl of Sandy’s skirt and an elaborate dip. The music ended, and the audience burst into applause and cat-calls.
“Wow!” Howie’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Our finalists really outdid themselves for that dance. Can you believe they only had one week to learn all that? And a whole second dance too. Let’s give them a round of applause as they leave the floor to change for the final, fabulous dance. In the meantime, please welcome the Haskell High Trail Blazer’s marching band!”
Jogi couldn’t help but laugh as the blast of the marching band swelled from one side of the gym while he and Sandy and the other competitors dashed off the dance floor and into the hall with the locker rooms. It was such a bizarre contrast of sounds and styles, so typically Haskellian. He wished he had his camera so that he could capture the moment in all its visual glory. But the competition wasn’t over yet.
“Fifteen minutes, everybody, fifteen minutes,” Carl called to them as he and Buffy met the final couples in the hallway. They were both dressed in costumes of garish turquoise, ready to entertain the crowd once the marching band finished.
“Get those glorious tango costumes on and get ready to end this thing on a high note,” Buffy added, her usual enthusiasm kicked up another notch.
Sandy rushed ahead to the girls’ locker room, but before she could get far, Jogi grabbed her hand. “Wait.”
Sandy spun back to him, her eyes wide with adrenaline and her cheeks pink. “What?”
He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped her, he just knew that they’d reached an important moment, with or without the competition.
“I just want you to know—” He stepped closer to her, giving them as much privacy as possible with half of Haskell going nuts in the room beside them as the marching band played. “—that whether we win or lose this thing….” He stopped, not entirely sure where he’d intended to go when he started out.
“Yes?” she asked with a teasing twitch of her lips.
He had to say it, even if it meant he got his heart stepped on later. Some things just couldn’t wait. “I just want you to know that I love you,” he blurted, then held his breath.
Sandy’s eyes snapped wide and her jaw loosened. But she just stood there, staring at him.
“Come on, guys, come on,” Buffy called behind them. “Fifteen minutes isn’t a lot of time to change costumes.”
“Go, go, go!” Carl added.
“I—” Sandy said. Then she blinked and sucked in a breath. “We have to get moving.”
She let go of his hand, speeding away from him down the hall. Jogi was left wondering if he’d said the right thing or if he’d just killed whatever chance they had of winning the competition.
Sandy managed to dash into the girls’ locker room, find her tango costume, and change—including redoing her make-up and hair—all without enough brain power to consciously pay attention to what she was doing. Jogi loved her. He’d said it, right there in the halls of the high school. Not all that far away from where Ronny had humiliated her all those years ago. And she knew Jogi well enough now to know that he was dead serious. He loved her.
“Three minutes, ladies,” Jonathan called from the other side of the locker room door.
“Shoot,” Natalie growled, fastening the buckle of her dance shoes. “I’ve got a run in these stupid stockings and no time to change it.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you had your costume on front to back,” Marsha laughed, rushing for the door. “The way you and Ronny pulled off that lift, I’m sure your scores will be so high no one would notice.”
Sandy refused to let her stomach drop. So what if Ronny and Natalie had done well. Natalie hadn’t chosen the jerk for a partner, and she had every right to win if she could.
Natalie must have seen the look on Sandy’s face. As the three of them headed for the door, she sent a sympathetic glance Sandy’s way and said, “If it helps, Ronny and I have zero chemistry in the tango. In fact, if he doesn’t quit pawing me, I’ll punch his face.”
Sandy smirked. “Been there, done that. It’s incredibly satisfying.”
The tiny interlude was enough to get her head back in the game. Or so she thought until she saw Jogi waiting for her near the door to the gym in his Latin lover costume. The other couples had gone for a more formal look, but Jogi wore simple black pants and a flame-red shirt, half unbuttoned to show off just enough of his chest. With his dark hair and eyes and the close-cut beard he still sported, he looked dangerous, exotic, and damn sexy.
“You look….” He started, sweeping her with a glance. He didn’t finish. Instead, he blew out a breath, eyes wide, and took her hand.
He loved her. Sandy’s heart thundered against her ribs. Jogi loved her. Sweet, determined, patient Jogi. He wasn’t at all the kind of man she’d imagined herself ending up with. Then again, she hadn’t ever dreamed that she could have what the two of them had miraculously developed in the last few weeks. She didn’t think she was capable of any of it.
“One, two, three, go.” Jonathan gave them all a broad grin as he opened the gym door for the last time to the swell of applause that waited for them.
“This is it.” Howie echoed exactly what Sandy was thinking as they strutted out onto the dance floor one last time. “This is your final dance. The sultry tango!”
He went on to fill the time it took for each of the couples to march out to their space on the dance floor with typically Howie-like banter. Sandy didn’t hear any of it. Something came over her. Maybe it was the part she was about to play. She loved the scintillating red dress she wore. It was cut low enough to accentuate her shape with sparkling Spanish roses across the bodice and skirt. The skirt was slit to show off her long legs at certain points in the dance. But all of that was secondary to what she felt inside.
As she and Jogi struck the opening pose of the dance, clasped in an embrace, her leg showing, everything else faded into the background. Come what may, this was all she wanted. This was what she craved.
She looked into Jogi’s fiery, serious eyes, caught the faint flicker of his pulse as it beat in his neck. “That thing you said earlier?” she asked. His expression tensed just enough to beg for her to go on. Her heart thundered. The music began. “I love you too.”
Neither of them had time to react before sliding into the steps they’d choreographed just days ago. The heat and intensity of both of their declarations hung unresolved in the air between them as they moved through the basic tango steps, as required by the contest rules. But there were more to the steps than technicalities. Sandy was hardly aware of where her feet were stepping or whether the angles and closeness was right. What mattered was that she could feel the heat of Jogi’s body, feel the intensity of their togetherness.
He led them through steps that she felt she’d waited her whole life to dance. Their bodies moved together, swirling in the turns, then sliding sensuously against each other as the steps dictated. It was easier than breathing to infuse the dance with every ounce of the passion that she felt for him, that they experienced when it was just the two of them alone in bed together. She didn’t care if everyone in the audience got an eyeful of everything she felt for Jogi. She moved with him anyhow, their lips coming within millimeters of each other before breaking apart as the dance moved on.
She was hot all over, aching to wrap herself around him in every way as they glided into the final steps of the dance. The music reached a crescendo as they twined into their final, passionate pose. But as the song ended, the heat between them grew, and instead of ending with a final, sultry look, Jogi closed the last of the distance between them, taking her mouth in a sensual kiss that left her head spinning and her heart soaring up into the clouds.
�
�Absolutely stunning!”
Howie’s voice and the roar of the crowd broke the spell. Jogi leaned back, the desire in his eyes melting into a smile of triumph. He eased his hold on her, and Sandy lowered her leg from where it had been wrapped around his thigh. Suddenly, their embrace felt far too intimate for the audience they had. Sandy blushed furiously, self-conscious in a way that she didn’t think she could be. Jogi handled it brilliantly, though. He took her hand and spun her into the choreographed bow they’d practiced.
The smiles that waited for them, the rush of not only approval, but joy at the display they’d put on touched Sandy on a deep level. It wasn’t that she felt dismissed by the town she’d grown up in, but she’d never had what felt like the whole mass of Haskellians shower her with so much love. She wondered what her ancestors who had fought so hard for what they had would think of the cheers and applause. It made her more determined than ever to hold onto the bank at all costs.
“It looks like our judges have their scores ready,” Howie went on, gesturing for the crowd to calm down. “We’re going to do things a little differently tonight, since it’s the finals. Each judge will hold up their score for each couple instead of simply announcing who gets first, second and third places. So without further ado, judges, please show us your scores for Marsha and Kyle.”
The five judges held up their scores, one by one, from Louise Meyers at one end of the judges table all the way down to Guy Sedgewick at the other end. Sandy was too elated and exhausted to pay much attention to the scores or what they meant. They were good for the most part, mostly sevens with a seven-point-five thrown in.
“That gives Marsha and Kyle a grand total of thirty-five-point-five,” Howie announced. The crowd applauded.
“We can beat that,” Jogi said with a confident nod.
“Easily,” Sandy replied, heart light.
“Next,” Howie went on, “Judges, please show us your scores for Natalie and Ronny.”
The scores went up one by one, starting with a nine from Louise. Next came an eight, then two nines from the next two judges. And finally, Guy held up a card with a big, fat number ten on it.
Sandy’s gut clenched as Howie announced, “That’s forty-five gigantic points for Natalie and Ronny.”
The audience had mixed reactions. A few people cheered for Natalie, and more than a few booed for Ronny. But most people applauded with genuine enthusiasm. Sandy half wished she’d seen how well Ronny had done.
“And finally—I feel like we should have a drumroll,” Howie said. From a dark corner of the room, one of the band kids played an impromptu drumroll, and the audience laughed. “Judges, please show us your scores for Sandy and Jogi.”
This was it. Sandy held her breath and squeezed Jogi’s hand. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t move. Louise held up her card, giving them a nine. Patty Pettigrew went next, holding up a card with a nine-point-five. The crowd cheered. Sandy’s heart went wild. The next judge, Brian, held up a nine, followed by a glorious ten from Tricia.
“We’ve got this,” Jogi declared, raising Sandy’s hand to his lips. “We’ve got it.”
Guy held his card up. Six.
The audience erupted into shouts of outrage and catcalls. Even Howie didn’t seem to know quite what to do.
The bottom dropped out of Sandy’s stomach. Rage rushed in, hitting her from all sides. “That bastard,” she gulped, not caring who heard her. “That lying, cheating bastard.”
She wasn’t the only one who objected to the low score. Next to Guy, Tricia seemed to be tearing him a new one. Sandy didn’t know if she wanted to rush over and join her in wringing Guy’s neck or if she wanted to march over to where Ronny was gloating and carrying on to slap him silly instead.
She almost didn’t notice Buffy and Carl hurrying up to Howie’s side. As soon as Buffy whispered in his ear, Howie grinned.
“Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please.”
It took a second for the crowd to settle down and for the focus to shift to Howie.
“We have an additional score to add to the judges’ total.”
“What?” Ronny shouted, instantly outraged.
Sandy was back to holding her breath. Jogi stepped closer and put his arm around her.
“Buffy and Carl here have informed me that they would like to be given a chance to score each of the final couples based on their performance, attitude, and accomplishments throughout the entire competition process,” Howie said.
“No,” Ronny shouted. “This is outrageous. This isn’t in the rules.”
“Actually, apparently it is,” Howie said with a satisfied grin. “I just forgot about it.”
“I demand to see those rules,” Guy hollered, standing from his place behind the judges table.
“We’ll get them to you as soon as possible,” Carl called back to him with his biggest toothpaste commercial smile.
Buffy took the microphone from Howie and proceeded. “Don’t worry, the points that we’re allowed to add to the final score are only three points for our first-place couple, two for the second-place pair, and one for the third-place dancers.”
Carl leaned in close and said into the microphone, “And without further ado….”
He leaned back so that Buffy could go on with, “Third place goes to Natalie and Ronny, second place to Marsha and Kyle, and first place for positivity, effort, and excellence goes to Sandy and Jogi.”
The crowd hesitated for the briefest of moments before enough people did the math in their head. That left Ronny and Natalie with a total of forty-six points and her and Jogi with forty-six-point-five. The crowd burst into whooping cheers and applause.
Sandy burst into tears, right there, in front of everyone. By hook or by crook, they’d won.
Chapter Eighteen
A monsoon of emotions hit Jogi the second he and Sandy were announced as the winners. The triumph of having beaten Ronny at his own game was heady, but he couldn’t help but cringe just a little at the odd way it’d happened. Someday, he was going to have to win a contest without the benefit of a nudge from someone on the outside.
But it was all worth it to see the tears of joy that spilled across Sandy’s flushed cheeks.
“We did it,” he said, pulling her into a sheltering embrace. “We did it.”
She nodded against his shoulder and hugged him for all she was worth.
“I’m sure you’d all love to know what the prizes Jogi and Sandy have won are,” Howie went on, speaking loudly into the microphone to drown out Ronny’s continued protests.
“This is bullshit!” he yelled, stomping out of the gym. “Bullshit.”
Natalie stayed where she was, looking mortified but determined to stick it out in support of Jogi and Sandy. Jogi nodded to her over Sandy’s shoulder as they embraced.
“In addition to this fabulous trophy,” Howie went on. Jogi twisted, loosening his hold on Sandy, to see Buffy and Carl bringing an enormous, gaudy trophy their way. “Jogi and Sandy will each receive a purse of two thousand dollars and a gift certificate for a victory dinner at The Cattleman Hotel.”
The crowd applauded. Jogi smiled and waved as he and Sandy took the trophy from Buffy and Carl.
“You two deserved this,” Carl told them in a surprisingly candid voice above the din.
“We’re just glad we could nudge things in the right direction,” Buffy added, her grin downright impish.
“Thank you.” Sandy wiped the tears from her eyes and hugged Buffy. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Really, you don’t.” She straightened and sent Jogi a relieved look.
He knew exactly what it meant. The trophy was superfluous. The money didn’t really matter. He was even willing to say that winning his own gallery showing at Abigail Sedgewick’s gallery was secondary to the real prize. They’d won Guy’s vote on the bank board. The bank was safe.
“Come on, you two,” Howie said, marching toward them. He’d left his microphone and had hi
s arms outstretched to congratulate them. The bleachers were beginning to clear out as people left, now that the excitement was over. “You need to take your victory lap, go and meet your fans.”
“I knew the two of you would win.” Howie was joined by Quintus, who wove through the people moving onto the dancefloor as they waited to exit. “I just knew you’d make the perfect couple. And that tango? Wow!”
Jogi would have been equally happy to punch Quintus in the arm as he was to give him a short, manly hug for all the trouble the kid had put them through. He shoved the ridiculous trophy into Quintus’s arms as he did. “This should be yours.”
Quintus pushed the trophy back at him. “No way, man. It’s all yours. So is the real prize.” He glanced past Jogi to Sandy, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jogi grinned and started to step back to Sandy’s side. But his grin vanished as soon as he saw her expression crumple into concern. “What?”
Sandy was staring in the direction of the judges’ table. When Jogi looked that way too, he saw why. Guy was still arguing with Tricia, but it looked like their argument had reached its end. Guy turned and stormed off, grabbing his wife from her seat nearby as he did.
“It kinda feels like he’s getting away,” Sandy said.
Jogi tightened his grip on the trophy. “Then we have to go after him.”
She nodded and grabbed his other hand. The determination was back in her eyes, and it was a total turn-on.
Guy started for the door through which everyone else was leaving, but changed his mind when he reached the logjam of people waiting to get out. He changed direction and headed for the door at the opposite end of the room, the one leading to the locker rooms. Jogi switched direction with him, and he and Sandy caught up to Guy and Abigail as they crossed into the hallway.
“We won,” Jogi said, bringing Guy to a halt.
Guy flinched and turned back to them, face set in a scowl. “On a technicality.”
“It’s in the rules,” Sandy told him. Jogi honestly had no idea if it was or not, but Sandy was sticking to her guns. “Which means we won fair and square.”