Save the Last Dance

by Fiona Harper

  The fashion collection, specialising in haute couture down the decades, had always been a draw. Maybe that was why she’d fallen in love with the whole vintage clothing scene when she’d stumbled across it. She and Gran had spent ages inspecting each dress carefully, picking out which ones were their favourites and settling on the one that they’d wear to a ball, if they ever got the chance.

  Alice sighed.

  Would her dress be all right? Suddenly she was second-guessing her choice of a cute little short-sleeved dress, with its wide panels of black satin dotted with pink roses at the waist and hemWas it a little too much? Well, too late now to run home and hide away in a baggy fleece. She’d just have to brave it out.

  She ignored the grand entrance and made her way to a smaller one at the side of the building in Exhibition Road. A security guard merely smiled at her and waved her on as she walked through the revolving doors and told him why she was there.

  Her destination was only a short distance from the entrance, down a flight of marble stairs, just off a long hall full of sculptures. Her heels clipped on the mosaic floor as she passed headless and armless statues, all male torsos, rippling with muscles and leashed strength. That made her sigh too. Why did everything remind her of Cameron? And she hadn’t even seen him without his shirt off.

  The only thing visible at the wide entrance to the fashion exhibit was a long, horizontal display case filled with shoes—embroidered seventeenth-century court shoes, buttoned boots in deep red leather, and sequined platforms all stood proudly side by side.

  As she climbed the few steps to the entrance she slowed down. If this was a preview, with cocktails and canapés, where were all the people? Why couldn’t she hear them talking or glasses clinking? Perhaps Coreen had got the time wrong. Perhaps she was early.

  Her hunch was borne out by the fact that, apart from the lone guard she could still see on duty by the entrance there wasn’t a soul in the place. She glanced at him, wondering if it was really all right to enter the room and go exploring, but he just nodded and gave her a little wink.

  Although the vintage clothes were all housed in a vast domed room, it always felt very close, very intimate, because the lighting was kept deliberately low to preserve the wonderful fabrics. The central part of the room was closed off, only used for special exhibitions, but the main collection could be seen by walking the perimeter—long glass cases on each side of the walkway, displaying clothes of all kinds on headless white mannequins.

  She’d never been here at night before, but far from being creepy, the added depth to the darkness only made the exhibits seem even brighter and more wonderful, each one illuminated by a soft spotlight. It was almost too good to be true to be here on her own, with no one to crowd her view, no one to hurry her along.

  Well, okay, then. If she was early, she was going to make the most of it and take her time. She’d probably never have this opportunity again. Keeping an ear out for anyone else arriving, she started to circle the room, stopping every now and then to pay special attention to some of her favourite pieces—a shocking pink fifties ballgown with a stiff skirt, a ‘flapper’ dress in swirling silk with sequins and jewels and a court mantua, all creamy satin and exquisite embroidery.

  At each ‘corner’ of the circular room there was a curved alcove where the display cases made a C-shape. A large octagonal glass case stood in the extra space. The first she’d passed had housed an embroidered Regency wedding dress. She approached the second octagonal case with curiosity. This must be it—the new exhibit. Only she couldn’t see what was inside properly because the lights were out. She walked towards it, trying to make out what it was…

  A dress of some kind, in a dark shiny fabric.

  When she was just a few steps away the small spotlights in the ceiling of the case started to glow, shining brighter and brighter until there was no doubt as to what it contained.

  Her dress. Her dark green bias-cut Elsa Schiaparelli dress. It said so on the card—even mentioned her name as the person who had donated it.

  And her shoes.

  Beside the dress, at the bottom of the case on a specially created stand, lit so the Lucite heels sparkled and glimmered, were her shoes. She crouched down and inspected the heel of the left shoe. She would never have known it had been snapped off if she hadn’t been the one to do the snapping.

  But…

  The silence in the darkened gallery thickened. Alice held her breath and slowly straightened. Someone was here with her. But she didn’t turn round yet; her brain was working overtime. The only person it could be—the only way to explain all of this was if it was…

  Suddenly her eyes adjusted. The dress and the shoes blurred away and a reflection in the glass came into focus.

  Cameron. Standing behind her.

  Looking at her as if he meant it.

  She spun around, still unable to breathe. He didn’t move, just continued to let his eyes wander over her. Somehow he didn’t look a bit like the Cameron she’d come to know again in recent weeks, but more as she recalled him from the past. He wasn’t even wearing a suit. Just jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

  The clothes were just a symptom. As she stared back at him, remembering to squeeze and release her lungs, forcing air into them, she saw the real transformation. All the layers had been peeled away and he seemed younger, more vulnerable. His eyes, far from being blank and unreadable, were telling her all kinds of things. Things she could hardly dare to believe.

  ‘You said you wanted an ordinary guy…’ He shrugged. ‘I think I’ve found you one.’

  She shook her head. He would never be ordinary, and she didn’t want him to be. He was Cameron. Her Cameron. A perfect fit.

  But in another way what he’d said wasn’t too far off the mark. He wasn’t an untouchable god or an out-of-reach prince. He was just a man, with all his faults and flaws and fears.

  And how she loved him.

  He must have seen something of that in her eyes, because he stepped forward, more determined now, and ran his hands down her bare arms. After weeks of being deprived of his touch it was all that was needed to blast any remaining defences away.

  ‘You’re not perfect,’ he stated slowly, a smile starting at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Not being very romantic here, Cameron…’

  He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘I don’t want you to be perfect. I just want you to be you.’ His lips didn’t stop there, and he placed tiny kisses along her temple, across her cheekbone. ‘Because I’m not perfect either, and I’m finally okay with that concept. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone who will take notice any more.’

  She wound her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. He didn’t need to explain—she got it. They were both incomplete, stupid, and very, very human. And thank heaven for that, she thought, as he slid his hands around her waist and held her tighter still.

  ‘I don’t care if you’re perfect or not,’ she said. ‘You’re my Gilbert after all.’

  His lips had been poised to place a kiss at the edge of her jaw and he paused for a fraction of a second. ‘Your what?’

  ‘Never mind,’ she whispered back. ‘Just shut up and kiss me.’

  She decided she liked it very much when control-hungry Cameron stopped being habitually stubborn and did as he was told. She liked it very much.

  It was such a relief, such a joy to be here with him, that she felt tears collect in her lashes. ‘I’m sorry I pushed you away,’ she said, her voice scratchy. ‘I couldn’t understand why you of all people would decide to keep me—the second-hand girl that everyone else had discarded.’

  He kept her pressed up against him, but leaned back a little so he could focus on her face.

  ‘Oh, I’m planning on keeping you for a long time—as long as you promise to keep me back. You’re the best thing in my lousy life, Alice, because you challenge me to be the best man I can be. Because you demand it of me. And up until now I’ve been too afraid to
be that man.’

  ‘Shh,’ she said, pressing her fingertips to his lips, feeling her tears fall.

  He shook his head gently to dislodge her fingers and they fell away. ‘No, it’s true.’ His gaze softened and her breath caught. It was as if he’d just reached out and dived inside her. ‘I’m going to keep you because you love me, Alice Morton…’

  That was also true. And no amount of running away was ever going to change that.

  ‘You love me the way I love you,’ he said. ‘With everything I can give—good, bad and in between. You’ve got it all.’

  And he bent forward to deliver the sweetest kiss yet, one that made the room spin and her feet tingle. Alice kissed him right back, sensing in some way that they were marking each other as the other one’s property. Finally she could let herself pour everything into her kiss, with no fear barring her from giving everything she had in return.

  As always, they managed to say a lot of what they wanted to say, resolve a lot of things, without the need for words at all. Alice gave a deep, heartfelt, happy sigh and steadied herself against the glass display case. She was feeling decidedly wobbly.

  ‘I’m glad you rescued my shoes,’ she said, glancing away from him for only a second. ‘They look happy here. I don’t think they would have stood up to twenty-first-century abuse. I’d have hated to see them ruined.’

  He smiled. ‘And the dress? Do you want it back? I’ll get it for you if—’

  She shook her head and kissed his neck, right where his pulse was beating, and felt a surge of power at the shuddering response it produced in him.

  ‘I’m glad about that too.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Anyway, I don’t think I need it any more.’

  His smile grew into a wide grin.

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that, because I have another dress in mind. I don’t care what style it is, whether it’s new or old, but I do have one stipulation…’

  She chuckled. ‘You’re not going to go all Cameron on me again now you’ve got what you want, are you?’

  A flash of the old arrogance returned. ‘Of course I am. You wouldn’t have me any other way.’

  He was right. Who would want anything but this wonderful, determined, romantic, thick-headed man? He was definitely a keeper. She lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed him. She seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. Oh, well…

  Then she realised she’d been sidetracked and pulled away. ‘What sort of stipulation?’

  She’d expected him to laugh, but he pulled her close and breathed into her ear in a rough voice. ‘Like I said…I don’t mind if it’s long or short, fancy or plain, old or new. Just as long as it’s white. And I have to warn you, it comes with matching jewellery.’ Suddenly he got all serious, took a few deep breaths. ‘That means I’m asking you to marry me, if you hadn’t worked that out yet.’

  Alice threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t do subtle, did he, this man of hers? When she stopped laughing, he was looking puzzled.

  ‘That’s a yes, if you hadn’t worked it out yet.’ She smoothed his forehead flat with the pads of her thumbs. ‘But I have a stipulation too.’

  A flash of fear glittered in his eyes and she kissed it away.

  ‘Don’t make that face, Cameron. Can’t you see this look?’ She paused and let her eyes do the talking. ‘This is the look of a girl who’s fallen in love and isn’t about to fall out again.’

  Cameron answered her with a delicious kiss, and as he pulled her closer still she whispered in his ear. ‘I love you, Cameron Hunter. But about this jewellery…Let’s be clear about one thing—I’m not wearing a tiara for anybody. Not even you.’

  He just laughed, picked her up, and waltzed her round the empty gallery.

  ISBN: 978 1 472 07457 7

  SAVE THE LAST DANCE

  The Ballerina Bride © 2012 Fiona Harper

  Invitation to the Boss’s Ball © 2012 Fiona Harper

  Published in Great Britain

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

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