Garrett reached out and took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Melanie,” he said, his crisp British accent giving the words a stoic formality. “I understand we’ll be seeing you at the audition.”
Her giddiness vanished, and the importance of the meeting hit her like a concrete block. “Yes, you will. I’m, uh, I’m really looking forward to it.”
Oh, God. Could she be any lamer?
“It’s refreshing to see someone so confident,” he said and glanced at Taz.
“She has every reason to be confident,” Taz piped in. “She’s good. Really good.”
Wow, did he really think so? He’d never told her that. She was about to thank him when a trio of young women approached, dressed as tribal belly-dancing fairies. Melanie recognized them all as Belly Dance Divas who had performed at the Shimmy Shop’s fund-raising showcase last month.
“Hey, boss,” said the blonde with opalescent wings. “I seem to remember there was a promise of drinks being on you tonight. Do you remember that, girls?”
The other two nodded their agreement. “I remember that,” one said. “Me, too,” said the other.
“Whoa,” Garrett said, chuckling. “You’re not ganging up on me, are you?”
“Not at all,” the blonde said with a haughty smile. “We’re just thirsty.”
“All right. I suppose a promise is a promise.” He turned to Taz and Melanie. “Apparently the next round is on me, but I shall need an extra pair of hands. Care to help, Taz? Leave these dancers to their evil schemes?”
“Yes, run along and help, Taz,” the blonde said mischievously. “We’ll keep your friend company.”
Taz gave Melanie a concerned look that didn’t escape the blonde’s notice.
“Don’t worry, Taz. We won’t scare her away.”
He didn’t look convinced. Melanie suddenly wondered if Taz the Romancer had a history with one of these Divas. Hell, maybe all of them, if the rumors were true. Still, it was amusing watching him squirm, and the taunting seemed too playful to be malicious.
“Yeah,” she said, reassuringly. “Go on. I’m feeling thirsty, too. You don’t mind, do you?”
“All right,” he said. “But don’t run off. We’ll be right back.”
| 29
When the men were gone, the blonde turned to Melanie. “I remember you from the Shimmy Shop’s benefit show. That was a fantastic night. I don’t think we were ever properly introduced, though. I’m Tilly, this is Gwen”—she pointed to the brunette on her right—“and this is Lindsay.”
“Of course,” Melanie said. “It’s great to see you again. The shop is doing much better. The classes are filling up, and the boutique should open any day now. It’s been really great, and Abby owes a lot of that to you guys.”
“It was so fun,” Tilly said. “We loved doing it. There were so many talented dancers there. Like you! Your piece was amazing. You know the Divas are holding auditions next weekend, don’t you? Have you ever considered trying out?”
She turned back to the others, who were nodding and smiling in agreement.
Melanie, who wasn’t usually at a loss for words, stood mute. Was this really happening? Was she going to wake up at any moment and find herself drooling on her pillow in her mother’s guest room?
“I’ve thought about it,” she managed to say before she felt the urge to giggle. Good grief, she couldn’t do that in front of Belly Dance Divas.
“Definitely think about it,” the one named Lindsay said. “Love your costume, by the way. It looks kind of familiar, but I can’t place it.”
Melanie was about to explain the inspiration when two women approached the group.
“I’m so sorry to intrude,” said one with a familiar Southern drawl, “but are you guys the Belly Dance Divas?”
The women were dressed like space-age saloon girls, with their sexy silver lame corsets and bustles, and they were covered head to toe in bluish-green body makeup that shimmered in the light.
Melanie scrutinized their faces, but they didn’t register. Under all that blue paint, they could be anybody.
“We are,” Tilly said.
The one who spoke turned to her friend and gushed, “I told you it was them!” She turned back to Tilly. “Would it be okay if we took a picture with you for our blog?”
Then it all came back. The drawl and the wild blond hair she’d only glimpsed. These were the bloggers she’d overheard in the ladies’ room at the Sultan’s Tent.
“Of course,” Tilly said. “Do you want all of us?”
“Absolutely, if you guys don’t mind,” the woman said. She turned to her friend. “Let’s get someone to take the picture.”
Melanie put her hand up and said, “I’ll take it.”
Tilly tapped her hand back down. “No way. You’ve got to be in the picture, too.”
“But I’m not a Diva,” she whispered to Tilly.
She whispered back, “Maybe not yet, but soon enough, right?”
It didn’t matter, though, because the one with the camera had handed it off to a guy who looked like the Big Bad Wolf in gladiator garb.
The women pulled together, the gladiator wolf said, “Say, ‘cheesy pizza,’” they all said “cheesy pizza,’” and he snapped a few pictures.
He handed the camera back to one of the women, and they both went around the group shaking hands and thanking the Divas.
When the blonde got to Melanie, she paused mid-shake. Melanie froze.
“Hey, I remember you. Didn’t you dance at the Sultan’s Tent last week?”
Was that a frown?
“Yeah, I was there,” Melanie answered cautiously. Which way was this conversation headed?
“We didn’t expect a dancer to be there,” the blonde said, quickly recovering her smile. “It was quite a show.”
“Thank you,” Melanie said, relieved. “It’s nice of you to say so.”
The woman leaned in. “So, are you—”
“Shelley, c’mon.”
The woman’s friend was tugging at her arm.
“There’s a chocolate fountain in the banquet room,” the shorter one said. “You know how much I love those. C’mon, let’s go.”
The blonde turned, and something unspoken passed between them in glances. Then she turned back with a plastered on smile. “We should go, but I do hope we can chat more later.” With that, her friend led her into the crowd.
Abby smiled. Her first fan. Was it possible for the night to get any better?
| 30
“So what do you think?” Taz asked as he and Garrett stood on the fringe of the crowded bar, his fingers tapping on his thigh.
“About what?” Garrett said in that too-casual tone that meant he knew exactly what.
“About Melanie. There’s something about her, don’t you think? Something kinda special.”
Garrett scrutinized him a moment then said, “I should have known. I thought you were getting cold feet about the tour, or maybe something about that legacy project of yours. But it’s just the usual thing. Just another girl who has you in thrall.”
Taz made a face. “She doesn’t have me in thrall, or in anything else. I just think she might be a good fit for the troupe.”
“Really? I am sure that assessment has nothing to do with the fact that you’re shagging her?”
“No!”
Garrett tugged at the sleeves of his blue-velvet jacket. “No, it isn’t the reason, or no, you aren’t sleeping with her?”
Taz scoffed. “Neither,” he said, hoping the flush on his cheeks didn’t tell Garrett the truth. He kept his eyes on the bartender. At the first glimmer of eye contact, he hailed him. “We’d like to order,” he demanded, a little too forcefully.
When the bartender slipped away to retrieve their drinks, Garrett turned back to him.
“So I can count on you for the tour? You aren’t backing out? I can’t be looking for a replacement at the last minute.”
“What the hell? I miss a couple meeting
s, and you’re talking about a replacement?”
“Of course I am. This is going to be the biggest tour we’ve ever staged. We’ve already booked twenty-five cities on four continents, and there are more to come. There are a lot of moving parts now. I can’t change things at a moment’s notice, not like last time.”
Last time. He was still holding on to that old history. “That was a long time ago, before there ever was a Belly Dance Divas. Everything worked out. I thought we agreed on that.”
“Yes, it worked out last time. I just don’t want there to be a next time. I don’t want any surprises. I’ve wagered everything on this tour.”
The bartender returned with six martini glasses filled with an impossibly bright-green liquid and topped by an orange twist. Garrett paid and tipped—generously, as usual.
“Look,” Taz said, taking up half the glasses, “all I’m saying is, check her out when she auditions. I think you’ll like what you see.”
Garrett stuffed his wallet in his breast pocket and took up the rest of the drinks. “Fine,” he said as they walked back. “I get it. Does she?”
“What do you mean?”
Garrett answered with a shrug, and then it was too late. They were already back at the group, and he was back in gracious-host mode.
“All right, ladies,” Garrett said, “your bribes—I mean, your drinks, are here. I think you’ll like these. They’re called Sonic Screwdrivers.” He distributed the glasses, and Taz did the same.
He leaned over to Melanie. “These were Garrett’s idea. I don’t know what’s in them, but if you hate it, I’ll get you something else.”
She wrinkled her nose then shrugged. “I don’t know. Looks kind of interesting.” She sipped and nodded. “Actually, it’s good.”
He sipped his own. An orange-flavored liqueur, something slightly fizzy. She was right. It wasn’t half bad. He leaned closer to her. “So what do you think about all this? I know it’s a lot to take in.”
She sipped again then gazed around. “I think it’s incredible. No wonder people say it’s the best party of the year. I just hope I fit in.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. You fit in just fine.” He leaned closer, and she leaned in too.
Every part of him wanted to be near her, to touch her. If only there wasn’t all that damn makeup in the way. But her lips were so close. Maybe just a kiss…
A hand on his back stopped the thought. He turned to find long, perfectly manicured fingernails painted cherry red.
“There you are, darling,” a husky, feminine voice said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
| 31
Melanie peeked around Taz to see a woman who looked like Elvira dressed in a slinky scarlet-red gown and petting the long black hair draped around her generously exposed breasts. She smirked. “I didn’t think I was ever going to find you two.”
Taz frowned, and his eyebrows knit together.
The woman stamped a foot and held out her arms. “Don’t you recognize your own sister?”
Great. Gina and her rotten timing.
She held out her arms and spun around like a fashion model. “Do you like it? I found a seamstress on Melrose who whipped it up in just four hours. It was amazing, like something out of Project Runway. But do you know the best part? She has a friend who does monster makeup for the movies. She came in and did all of this.” She fanned her red-lacquered fingernails around her face and the ample decolletage that was not quite falling out of the deep V neckline that ended somewhere near her navel.
“It looks great, Gina,” Taz said with the kind of hesitation you would expect from a brother concerned that his sister was revealing so much skin, even if it was covered in ghostly movie makeup.
If Gina noticed, it didn’t show in the way she beamed. Then her gaze settled on Melanie, and the smile disappeared.
“And what are you supposed to be? The Ghost of Belly Dance Past?” She laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Melanie forced herself to chuckle and curled her fingers into fists so she didn’t throttle the woman’s throat.
“Oh, but I’m being so rude,” Gina announced. “You have to forgive me. Look who I brought with me.”
She turned and grabbed the hand of a tall and willowy woman dressed in an elaborate headdress of wildfowl feathers and an equally plumed bra and miniskirt, chatting with the wolf gladiator beside them.
“Tamara worked her magic, got herself an invite, and jumped on a plane this morning when she heard I’d be all by my lonesome tonight. That’s just the sweetest thing ever. Don’t you think so, Taz?”
By the look on his face, he did not think so. He looked like someone had socked him in the gut. Melanie didn’t have a chance to ask why, because the Belly Dance Divas and Garrett were making awkward shifting noises behind her. When she turned, Tilly leaned forward. “It’s probably best if we leave. This could get—” She made a tortured face. “We’ll catch up with you later.”
Before Melanie could protest, they were gone, disappearing into the crowd.
Melanie stood, stunned. What was happening? Who was this woman?
Taz was still staring at Tamara, but his expression had changed from bewildered to hurt.
Gina, on the other hand, looked like she’d just scored the match point.
“What am I missing here?” Melanie blurted. “What’s going on?”
Gina swooped over, took her arm, and started leading her toward the bar. “We should probably give Taz and Tamara a moment. They haven’t seen each other in so long, I’m sure they have a lot of catching up to do.”
Melanie glanced frantically at Taz. Did he want her to leave? He wasn’t saying yes, but he wasn’t saying no, either. He was just staring at Tamara.
“C’mon, Melanie,” Gina cooed. “Let’s see what’s happening in the other rooms.”
Melanie didn’t care what was happening anywhere else. She wanted to know what was happening right here, right now, because none of this was making sense. Who was this woman standing beside him with that coy smile?
Then it hit her.
This was his ex-fiancee. The woman who had trampled on his heart.
Melanie flashed another questioning glance at Taz, all but begging him to ask her to stay.
He didn’t. He didn’t say a thing.
Okay. That was her answer. She turned back to Gina, her jaw set, every muscle tense. “Yeah,” she said, “let’s go.”
| 32
Melanie walked beside Gina toward the bar, but her mind was still on Taz. Why hadn’t he said anything? He hadn’t even introduced her.
Why wouldn’t he even introduce her?
Maybe it was obvious.
She was a fool. Of course she’d fallen for him, just as Abby had warned. She’d thought she was so immune, so superior to all the other women who had fallen for him, and here she was, one of the many. She was just another notch.
The pain in her heart became anger—a cruel, raw animal that clawed away the fantasy she’d been living in this past week.
To think, she actually thought Taz cared about her. That he might be falling for her. What an idiot.
She tipped back the drink she’d been trying so carefully not to spill, drained the last of it then planted the empty martini glass on the bar.
“Another, please,” she declared to the bartender and turned to Gina. “You’re buying, right?
Amusement crossed the woman’s face. “I guess I am.” She ordered herself a chardonnay and pulled a few bills from her cherry-red clutch.
Melanie glanced back at Taz. He was still standing with Tamara, one hand on his hip, the other fidgeting at his side. She seemed to be doing the talking, but he must have been listening, because he wasn’t doing anything else. He certainly wasn’t looking for Melanie.
If he was going to treat her like trash, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She took a good, long gulp of her new atomic-green drink, and turned to Gina. “I think they’ve had en
ough time to catch up.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Just tightened her grip on her drink and marched back to Taz.
She was so focused on Taz and his ex that she almost didn’t notice the furry, sandal-strapped foot that stepped in front of her. “Hey, gorgeous,” the gladiator wolf said.
Melanie looked behind her for Gina.
“You’re about the sexiest ghost I’ve ever seen.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. Really? This was his pickup line? “I’m not a ghost, Big, Bad, whatever you are. If you don’t mind, I have to get back to my—” She stopped. She was about to say “boyfriend,” but he certainly wasn’t that. “Forget it,” she said and walked away.
What she should have said was “fake boyfriend.” Because that’s what he was, right? He was fake. All of it had been fake. Every minute of it. She took another drink and hoped it would dampen the pain.
“So did I miss anything?” she snapped, her voice almost steady, when she plopped herself in the middle of their conversation. Now she had a plan. She’d show him the past week didn’t mean anything to her, either. She downed another long gulp and let it burn its electric-green courage into her. She was already feeling better. A bit dizzy, but better.
Now Taz was looking at her. His eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”
“No,” she said but found herself stumbling two steps backward. He grabbed her free arm to steady her and took the nearly empty glass from the other.
“Hey, you can’t do that,” she said and tried to grab it back but missed. “It’s not like you’re my boyfriend, you know.”
That got a reaction from him. Maybe it was surprise, maybe it was anger. Who cared? At least he was looking at her, paying attention to her, not this Fowl-Faced Barbie doll.
“Be careful,” he said, his voice low and menacing.
“Be careful about what? Telling your sister that this whole thing is a huge lie? Telling her we’re only pretending to live together so you can keep her off your back? Who would ever believe we’d be a couple? Hell, we don’t even know each other, right?”
Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) Page 11