by Unknown
“Are you questioning my prowess?” he teased, nibbling at her neck while his fi ngers dipped in and out of her swollen lips.
Mel pushed back at him, grinding her ass into him, wanting nothing more than to be as close as humanly possible without morphing into him. “I would never do such a thing,” she said on a giggle that turned into an “oh” of intense pleasure as Drew manipulated her body to his will.
“Good thing, because I don’t think pancakes can make you scream quite the way I do,” he said on a long groan as their bodies blended.
“You’ve never seen me eat a pancake,” she murmured, her lips pressed against his forearm to keep the scream of pleasure she wanted to yelp to a minimum.
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Drew pumped upward, his shaft pulsing hot and hard in her. His lips pressed to her ear. “Christ, Mel. Every time I think I have a handle on being inside you, it’s all I can do not to come.”
Mel’s heart fl uttered in her chest at his words. That a man like Drew admitted she had the power to undo him made her feel sexy and wanton. She raised both arms, draping them around the back of his neck and pulling him hard to her.
No more words were necessary when they picked up where they left off after a long night of lovemaking. Mel’s head thrashed against the pillow when Drew’s thrusts became harder.
Drew’s arms tightened around her in response and his harsh breaths quickened until they both reached satisfaction.
Mel fl opped against him, sated, sore, and replete.
Drew brushed her hair out of her face and smiled down at her.
“You want coffee?”
She smiled back. “Does it taste like chocolate chip pancakes?”
“You know, we could always go to my Mom’s …”
Mel stretched. “In my slinky dress and heels? Is that considered appropriate attire for breakfast?”
“Point.”
“I just don’t want Nate to get the wrong impression. I know he’s very perceptive, but to see me in something like the outfi t I had on last night is like throwing the fact that I spent the night in his face.”
She was coming to treasure her time with Nate— in class and out.
The last thing she wanted to do was upset him.
Drew’s smile lit up his face. “I like that you always think about Nate. Coffee it is. Throw on my shirt and meet me in the kitchen.
We’ll talk about Nate if I can keep my hands off you for more than twenty seconds.” He planted a lingering kiss on her lips.
She watched as he got off the bed; his well- muscled body naked, rippling and fi rm in the sunlight streaming through the windows 9780425245507_WaltzThisWay_TX_p1-344.indd 241
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made her heart clench again. He threw on a pair of sweats and winked at her before leaving the bedroom.
Oh, God. She was in love. She knew it. It was a much different love than the one she’d experienced with Stan. The connection she shared with Drew had more depth to it— it entailed a give- and- take, and she was relieved to fi nd, it was barren of any hero- worship.
Yes, Drew was compelling and sexy and smart, but she didn’t crave his approval in the way she had Stan’s. She enjoyed it, even reveled in his heated words, but it wasn’t the basis for their relationship, and she was fi nally seeing the difference between being involved with a man who was her equal and one who was her idol.
And it was hot and invigorating and a revelation all at the same time.
Top that with a possible job offer from Celebrity Ballroom, something she hadn’t had time to dwell on since Jackie had told her about it last night, and things were looking good.
Mel slid out of the bed, throwing on Drew’s shirt from last night, taking a deep sniff of the remnants of his cologne. She made her way to the kitchen, smiling to herself when she caught sight of the waterfall painting.
Drew held out a cup of steaming coffee in a chipped dark green mug.
She reached for it, but he pulled it back and grinned his heart-stopping grin. “Not before this,” he said, leaning down to give her a thorough kissing.
Mel sighed into his mouth, then snatched the coffee from his hand, almost dripping it on the fl oor. She set it on the counter and jumped up onto it to settle back against the cabinet.
“So, Nate,” he began, pushing his way between her legs to put his hands on her waist.
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Mel’s smile was fond when she eyed him over the rim of her coffee cup. “He’s such a great kid and a superb dancer.”
Drew hauled her close to him, and her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “He is a great kid and, like you said, a perceptive one. I don’t want to have to be careful about how I feel about you, Mel.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Meaning?”
Drew’s hands cupped her face. “Meaning, I want him to know we’re involved.”
“Ohhhhh. Is that what we are?” she asked when his lips found hers again.
“Well, if last night wasn’t enough to convince you we’re involved, maybe you need more convincing?”
“I’m always down with more convincing, but let’s be serious.
Because it’s Nate, and I would never want to jeopardize his feelings.
He has enough to deal with …”
She almost hated to mention Sherry’s name. They hadn’t spoken of her since the night she’d argued in Sherry’s favor, and while she didn’t want to rock the boat, she certainly wouldn’t walk on eggshells about her either. Sherry was Nate’s mother— alcoholic or not—and the kind of struggle she brought would need to be addressed if her issues were ongoing like Drew had said.
“Sherry,” he fi nished.
Mel looked him straight in the eye. “Yes. Sherry. She’s his mother, and if we’re going to be involved, she’s a part of my life now, too. No matter how much on the outskirts of it she is.”
“Fair enough. So, in light of Sherry, and the problems she’s created for Nate, I want to be as honest as possible with him about us. I want to tell him we’re involved, and that he can expect to be spending time with you outside of school.”
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“Without a doubt, I agree. So what are we calling this involved thing?”
“Do you want my high school ring to wear around your neck so that as far as the eye can see, everyone will know you’re my girlfriend?”
“Can you even fi nd your high school ring?”
“No.”
She let her shoulders lift in a mock sigh. “Fine. No jewelry.”
“How about a verbal agreement?”
“That states?”
“You’re my woman. Which means no dates with men named Ron who have mothers named Florence.”
That he even remembered Ron’s name made her insides warm and gooey. “Ahhhh, you were jealous.”
“I was nothing of the sort. I was mortifi ed you had such bad judgment.”
“What can I say? We exchanged e-mails and pictures. You can just never tell.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell anything anymore. Now that I’m your boyfriend and all, and you know what that means, don’t you?” Curving his hands under her ass, he rubbed his rigid shaft against the cleft between her thighs.
�
�Does it mean I have to cook? Because no can do, pal. I only cook on special occasions.”
He took her cup of coffee from her, planting it on the counter and nibbled on her neck. “This isn’t a special occasion? I just asked you to be my girlfriend.”
Instantly, Mel’s hands went to his hair, clenching the soft strands with a soft moan. “Not special enough to make me want to cook.”
“Well, let’s see if I can change your mind,” he cajoled, driving his hands under her borrowed shirt to cup her breasts.
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Mel decided, given his skills of coercion, he probably could.
!
“Thanks for the ride home, boyfriend,” she giggled the words— giddy and girlish.
He leaned over the console of the truck and kissed her. “Anytime, girlfriend. So, you wanna do something with Nate tonight?”
She gave him a fl irtatious smile. “You want to go dancing, don’t you?”
“Like I want to lose a limb. How about a movie and dinner?”
“Deal. Does Nate like French food? Do you? There’s this new place in the town over I’ve been dying to try since Jasmine told me about it. I love French food.”
Drew’s face shifted a little, his affable expression losing some of its lightheartedness, his body growing stiff. “Your rich friend Jasmine from Maxine’s employment agency?”
She was taken aback. “What does her bank account have to do with French food?”
“French food is expensive. At least the French food I’ve eaten.”
Mel frowned momentarily then forced a smile to her face with her solution. “Well, if it’s expensive, it’ll be my treat.”
Now his lips grew hard, forming a thin line. “No go.”
Mel titled her head, confused. “What?”
“I said no go. I invited you, I pay.” His tone was one that clearly brooked no argument. It also smacked of a demand rather than a request, and that smacked of the need to control.
“Said who?”
His hands gripped the steering wheel in a tight clench. “Me.”
“That’s ridiculous, Drew.”
“It’s how it is.”
“What era do you live in?”
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“The one where the man pays.”
And that was just that? Because Drew said it, it would be? The.
Hell. Her temper soared. “Well, when you decide to join us here in the year 2012, give me a call!” She pushed the truck door open and stomped into her father’s without a backward glance.
Knuckle- dragger.
!
Mel spent the remainder of her weekend alternately angry and hurt, and angry that she’d allowed herself to be hurt. If Drew McPhee had stopped for one minute to realize her paycheck was probably less than his, he’d have realized she’d never suggest a costly restaurant.
The fact that he wouldn’t allow her to pay made her irrationally angry. It was a ridiculous, archaic notion and she refused to put up with it. No one was going to take her independence from her ever again.
Not even someone who had the power to make her cry herself to sleep with wet sobs muffl ed by her pillow while Weezer moaned his sympathies in her ear.
No one was going to hold money over her head again either. It felt too much like a right to ownership. She was no man’s little woman anymore, and her trophy- wife days were long gone. She’d worked hard these last months to get on her feet and earn her own keep.
She kept those angry thoughts in mind to keep her tanked up when she entered her classroom early, hoping the concealer and foundation she’d used to cover up the remains of her stinging heart were doing their job. Resting a hand on the ballet barre, she lifted her leg and leaned into a long stretch.
“I’m a cad.”
Mel’s head shot up. She pursed her lips, refusing to be drawn into the magnetic force fi eld of Drew’s handsomeness. “No argument 9780425245507_WaltzThisWay_TX_p1-344.indd 246
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here.” She returned to her position at the barre and forced herself to dip into the stretch. No more backing down. No more letting everyone walk all over her while they did all the thinking for her.
“That French place you were talking about?”
Her spine stiffened. “What about it?”
Drew approached her, laying his face sideways on the barre to meet her eyes. “I didn’t know it was just a food truck.”
Mel’s lips thinned. “Why does that make a difference?”
“I overreacted.”
“Oh, you bet your bippy you did. Did it ever occur to you that I can’t afford chic restaurants anymore?”
“Obviously not. I only heard French and remembered the places Sherry and I used to go, and the fact that your lifestyle was once attached to a man who’s a millionaire.”
“Billionaire, and here’s a tip. I’m not Sherry, and I’m not married to Stan anymore. You know, you’d think I’d have baggage. Wasn’t it me who was left with absolutely nothing but my dog and some dental fl oss? No job. No capacity or skills to earn my own living because all I’ve ever done is dance. No place to live. At least you had marketable skills. I just got lucky with this job. Stan may not have been an alcoholic, but he held all the cards, monetarily and otherwise. I’ve been hurt, too. Yet, I’ve managed to let go of most of my anger. You? Not so much. And they say women cling to the past.”
Drew rose to his full height. “I admit to a certain sensitivity to situations like this, and sometimes my need to keep Nate from any more hurt becomes overbearing and stupidly overprotective.”
She lifted her torso to stare at him dead on. “Don’t you use Nate as an excuse, Drew.”
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since my divorce. I don’t want to make the wrong choices. I won’t apologize for looking out for my son.”
“And I would never ask you to. Looking out for him is one thing.
Keeping him from French food I buy is just plain dumbass.”
“I was wrong.”
She said nothing, fi ghting a smile.
“Really, really wrong,” he coaxed, his tone softening.
Mel’s eyes narrowed; letting her leg fall, she rested her hand on her hip. There was something else she couldn’t quite put her fi nger on, but she decided not to ask until she had a clearer vision of what Drew’s underlying issue was with her paying for some food.
Didn’t all those psychiatrists always say the argument you were having was never what the real argument was about? “You were a total ass. I think you might need some lessons in sucking it up. Maybe you should put a call into Maxine.”
“I don’t have her number,” he teased.
“I can give it to you along with her pamphlets on divorce and letting go of your bitter baggage.”
He looked skeptical. “Bitter baggage?”
“Yeah. That’s her catchy phrase for hanging on to your past and judging everyone by your ex’s measuring stick. I judged you that way, and then I hit recovery full throttle. I hate to admit it, but Maxine’s advice, hokey as it sounds, makes perfect sense. And if I can do it, anyone can.”
His look was that of genuine surprise. “You did that with me?”
Mel’s smile was secretive. “No way am I feeding your ego. Suffi ce it to say, I worked it out. Or I thought I had until you turned into Stupidhead Man.”
“I should have a cape or something and a costume with a big ‘S’
on it.”
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She giggled a snort. She couldn’t help it. “I’m really pissed off at you.”
He shook a fi nger at her. “Yeah, but you’re cracking. I can see it.”
“What I want to do is crack your head open.”
“That would be messy, and I don’t think Ernie the janitor’s up for brain splatter.”
“It’s nothing less than you deserve.”
“I won’t disagree.”
Mel’s face grew serious. “Let me make just one thing clear. I was someone’s toy for a long time. I didn’t know it, and had I realized it, I would have done something about it much sooner— before I was left without even a toothbrush. I had no life but my studio, and even that was something Stan held over my head. He paid the bills, he owned the building, and when he didn’t want it or me anymore, he took it away from me. Now I pay my own bills, and soon I’ll have my own roof over my head. No matter what happens in any relationship I’m in, I won’t be left high and dry again. I’m never letting anyone have that kind of power over me again.”
“I didn’t realize it was a power struggle when I said I’d pay for dinner.”
“It became one when you refused to let me because you thought my penchant for the high life is something I can’t give up or I miss so much I’d be willing to spend a quarter of my paycheck to revisit. I’ll have you know, via Maxine and all her kooky catchphrases, I’ve learned to live within my means, means that are modest at best. You also stole some of the joy I seem to be reaping from making my own living, and it made me want to fl atten you.”