Murphy squints. “No. I trust your abilities. More than you think.”
I get the feeling they’re having a conversation on an entirely different level, as if they’re speaking to each other in some kind of code language.
Even Judy, who isn’t super perceptive about people’s emotional states, shakes her head. “Wow, I feel a wave of testosterone wafting toward me.” She fans herself with her hands. “But we’re here to have fun, aren’t we? Save your juices for the dance. Look, the band is just starting.” Judy claps her hands.
The familiar rhythms of the bongo fill the room. Many guests jump up and dash to the circular dance floor.
Judy drags on Murphy’s arm. “Come, it’s my favorite song.”
“Well, then, we ought to sway to it.” Murphy put his hands on her hips and they go to join the other dancers.
I can’t help it. My legs are already tapping the beats under the table.
Nathan gives me a weird look.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his mouth moving into a smile. “I just realized we have one more thing in common.”
I peek down at his legs to check if he’s referring to a mutual passion for this song, but his feet are firmly pressed to the floor. I raise my head, my lips settling into a confused frown. “Not sure what you mean.”
Nathan points at me. “You’re a workaholic. Just like me. I wouldn’t have thought so, but the evidence is irrefutable. Your eagerness to rush over to the dancers is written on you face.”
He’s right of course. My body longs to go and follow the song’s beats.
“Why do you like this music so much?” he asks.
I don’t think anybody has ever asked me this question. I try to collect my thoughts because my love for salsa is such an elemental part of me like my left leg. Nobody can explain why they want a leg. They just do.
“Salsa is in my blood. My first memory of my mother is when she would hold me in her arms and dance with me. Music has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. There is this magical connection… Whenever I hear the beats, they command my cells… Yes, dancing is what I do for work, but it’s also my greatest pleasure.”
I wouldn’t feel offended if Nathan thought it’s weird to speak about my dancing with such passion. After all, what I do daily is nothing compared to the seriousness of his job. I’m not closing million-dollar deals or working my way to the top of a Fortune 500 company.
But Nathan listens to me with wide eyes as if he is drinking in every word I say. Slowly a dark shadow settles into his grey eyes. “The way you speak about your love for dancing is…” He inhales and lets out the air slowly. “…is inspiring. I always thought I worked so much because I loved my work. But this glint in your eyes when you speak about what you do…well, it makes me doubt whether I—”
He stops and rubs his neck.
“Didn’t you say you find the challenge of sealing deals thrilling?”
Nathan shrugs. “Yes. It’s exciting, but it’s not nearly as gratifying as what you’ve just described. I want this feeling you spoke about for myself.”
“Well, the trick is to let go.” I smile at him and cock my head toward the dance floor. “Over there, that’s exactly what you’ll do. Listen to the song, let it transport you, and just enjoy the moment.”
As I’m saying this, I realize this might be exactly why I enjoy dancing so much. It’s the only aspect in my life where I don’t need to worry about anything. Where the responsibilities I carry on my shoulders don’t weigh on me at all.
“Very intriguing. You’ve got me interested in…” His gaze dips to my lips and his voice trails off.
His expression changes, and the depth in his grey irises doesn’t promise anything good. Or rather, it promises too much of an overwhelming goodness….
If he bent a bit closer now, I’m not sure I’d have enough willpower to move back.
But he doesn’t. He lifts his glance to meet mine and says, “So am I getting a private lesson or what?” He stands and holds out his hand to me.
I put my palm into his. “Okay, I’ll teach you some of my favorite moves. Come on.”
Chapter 18
(Nathan)
As Eva drags me to the dance floor, my heartbeat quickens.
My eyes are fixed on her back, my fingers interlaced with hers. She looks amazing in her tight black jeans and red tank top. The DJ switches on a throbbing light that reflects on her skin, making it glow with a soft shimmer. The color combination of her clothes reminds me of the first time I saw her on stage. The memory of how gracefully she danced fills my mind and increases my nervousness.
I can’t dance. And even if I know that the best way to gain someone’s trust is to find common ground about the things they like—I use this to my advantage at work as often as I can—the twitch in my gut tells me this time I went too far. I shouldn’t have asked Eva for a private lesson.
Was it truly a tactical way to get closer to her or did I get tangled up in a whim of the moment?
I’m not quite sure. I’d love to believe it was the first, but there’s a troublesome voice in the back of my mind which won’t let me accept my own lie. Eva’s passionate tone as she described how she feels when she dances still rings in my ear, its melody doing odd things to my insides. I wanted that sense of carelessness and abandonment for myself.
But as we advance on the crowded dance floor, I feel everything except careless.
A guy bumps into me, and I feel a sweaty palm on my back as he pats me and excuses himself before returning to his partner. The unexpected contact reminds me why I prefer to spend my evenings in my office instead of going out to clubs.
The air becomes more and more sultry as we weave among the numerous couples drifting with ease to the upbeat melody, a Cuban merengue-bachata fusion, according to Eva. Men and women are twirling and turning, with arms and legs flashing everywhere. We literally have to fight our way to find a quieter spot. Perhaps it’s only my impression, but almost every single person seems to stare at us as we pass by.
“Why is everybody looking at us like that?” I whisper into Eva’s neck, taking a secret pleasure from being able to lean close to her skin without appearing inappropriate.
She has the most delicious smell that’s like a safe shelter from the stench of body odor that escapes from the crowd around us.
She turns her head to me and winks. “They ogle us because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” She stops and raises herself to her tiptoes so only I can hear what she’s saying. “Well, you and Murphy really. It’s rare to see a new face around here. But your brother is already doing his best to blend in…”
She waves toward Judy and Murphy. They’re hugging each other tightly and shimmying like their limbs are glued together. I never realized Murphy had such a sense of rhythm. It makes me wonder if I’m the one who’s unaware of my brother’s true potential, and not the other way around. I often blame Murphy for seeing me two-dimensionally but perhaps I’m just the same.
Be it as it may, Murphy has set the bar high for me with his hidden dancing talent. Will Eva expect me to be just as smooth in my moves?
Though I try to put on a brave face, I’m truly out of my comfort zone. I feel almost as much of an idiot as the first time I convinced Mother to let me handle a crucial client for our company. And I have even less of a clue how to move to music, any music, as I had about negotiating contracts back then.
Eva leads me to the left corner of the room, the one farthest away from the band and thus slightly less noisy and jam-packed. She turns, and when her eyes fall on my tensed expression, she raises a brow. “What’s the matter? Changed your mind? If you want, we can go back to our table. I don’t mind.”
Her chin makes imperceptible tilts to the sound of the conga, and her hand, still enclosing my wrist, is swinging slightly as if she can’t wait to join the others around us. It’s pretty clear that she wouldn’t like to be sitting
again, despite what she says.
After the initial hard time she gave me, it’s a treat to discover this softer side of her—one that’s ready to offer me a way out from my foolish suggestion. The fact that she perceives my jitters but doesn’t joke about it and is ready to renounce her own wish to put me at ease, makes me giddy. I’m not sure if it’s still in the physical range only, but I don’t care, because it fills me with a sense of aliveness that I’ve rarely experienced.
A sudden yearning to reciprocate her good faith fills me. I concentrate on the warmth emanating from her fingers to my skin. Would it be so terrible to try this dancing thing if it allows me to stay close to her bewitching body? Probably not. I could show Eva that I’m ready to put my usual self on the line for her, too.
I squeeze her hand. “No, let’s start with this lesson. Just don’t get your hopes up too high. I might be the worst student you’ve encountered.”
“Don’t worry.” She beams at me. “I’ll be patient. I’ll start by explaining the two basic steps, and we’ll practice just those, okay?”
I press my hands to my ears and arch my brows. I heard very well what she said, but I hope that if I pretend I didn’t, she might get closer and I can take another breath of her enticing scent without coming across a creeper.
Eva thwarts me by raising her finger. She points first to my eyes, then to her feet. She makes a step to the side with her left foot, then steps back to the middle. She repeats the same with the right. The movements of her shoes are accompanied with soft undulations of her hips that send a manly arousal across my belly. Eva repeats the same pattern, but this time, instead of swaying to the side, she advances to me. As she does, her leg presses against my thigh, forcing me to take a step back. When she retreats, my muscles seem to acquire a life on their own. I stride forward as if her magnetism is guiding me and helping me follow her lead.
Eva gives me a thumbs up. She takes my hand and places it on her waist. She puts a palm on my shoulder and takes my other one. Our fingers interlace, and finally Eva leans in to me so that my lungs fill with the perfume I was craving.
“Salsa is an eight-beat count, one-two-three-pause, five-six-seven-pause. Stop looking at your feet and don’t forget to move your hips. Let’s try the steps together,” she says.
I’d love to say it all goes well at first trial, but it would be a lie. It sounded so easy when Eva spelled out the numbers to me, but as I’m desperately counting in my head, again and again, the rhythm just slips away.
I make blunder after blunder. First, when Eva wants to turn, I mess up and she ends up crushed against my chest. Then, when she steps backwards, I do too, instead of going forward. Next, I forget to pause and nearly smash her foot.
Very soon I’m utterly discouraged by my lack of talent. I start eyeing the others to check whether I can learn tricks and to see if they notice my bloopers. Why do all the men here look like they’ve just stepped out of a Buena Vista Social Club video? They act like it’s the easiest thing in the world to move in synchrony with someone else. How the heck do they do it? And why can’t I?
Eva stops and grabs me at my shoulders. “Nathan, don’t overthink this. When you make a mistake, find the beat and keep going.”
I stare at Eva as her words sink in.
At work I’m brutal on myself when I commit an error. I obsess about why it happened until I’m sure that I’ve learned my lesson. It’s exhausting sometimes, but it’s the way I’ve always been. A perfectionist. I focus on the results and do not care or enjoy the process of getting there.
Eva gives me a smile. “Let’s do this once more, but this time concentrate only on me, okay? There’s nothing else around. Forget the people, forget the pressure. Let yourself be carried away.”
We start again.
I lose the beat after only a few steps, but Eva gently guides me back to it. She lowers my hold on her back slightly so I can anticipate where her hips are going to turn before they actually do. Her eyes never leave mine, and the encouraging beam stays on her soft lips.
I don’t know how it happens or why, but suddenly I’m not tripping over my feet or jerking my limbs in an uncoordinated manner. No, following the melody goes much easier than before. I’m not certain if it’s due to the fact that I’m not as wooden-legged as I first thought, or if it’s the luscious sensation that holding Eva’s slender waist unlocks in me, but I’m starting to enjoying this lesson. A lot.
Who would have thought?
After only three songs, I’ve got the basics down so well that Eva decides to teach me how to make her turn around, together with another more complex maneuver that makes us do two twirls to end up face to face again without ever releasing each other’s hands fully. She grins at me when we manage this difficult one together.
A strange pride takes possession of me and my previous apprehension dissolves entirely.
Dancing is FUN and I never knew…
A few strands of hair escape her bun and curl playfully at the side of her ears. Her cheeks are flushed from the torrid air and, I hope, from my closeness.
“So, your verdict so far?” she peers up at me.
I whirl her around and when she lands back in my arm, I grin at her. “I think I might become a fan after all.”
She giggles, and the sound of her joy makes my chest quiver. My body vibrates with an unknown energy. I attempt a Hollywood-style, backward dip with Eva, and we almost trip. But instead of feeling ashamed, I just laugh at myself. I don’t think of the bet or about how much depends on the outcome of our night. I’m just enjoying myself, something I haven’t done in a very, very long time.
Or possibly ever?
The song finishes and after a short pause, the singer of the band speaks into the microphone. “Ahorita, a little break for your legs and some work for your lips.” He wiggles his brows and claps his hands.
I give Eva a questioning glance and am surprised to find that she’s avoiding my eyes.
“Do you know what comes now?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s the slow hour. The band will play love songs.” A sensual melody’s first clangs fill the air. Eva points in the direction of our table. “Shall we get back? Our nachos should be there already.”
Before I can respond, Murphy’s baritone interrupts us. “Don’t stop now, you two! Food can wait. These songs are the occasion to rest a little and…” He hauls Judy to his chest as if to demonstrate how it’s done and winks. “Catch your breath.”
Or to lose it entirely…
Eva blushes and her body becomes rigid in my arms.
Murphy and Judy sway their way to the middle of the dance floor again, leaving us alone. Or as alone as we can be with sixty other people around us.
Eva’s eyes travel to mine. “D-d-do you want to dance to this?”
Cozying up with Eva in a slow dance is just what I need to push things forward. “I like my brother’s idea. My lips do feel rather lazy. Maybe it’s time to make them work a little.”
Eva’s eyes widen and a hint of panic settles in her glance. “What do you mean?”
I let myself enjoy the flustered look on her face, which makes her already large eyes even wider, before I add, “I meant that we can chat a little. With these softer tunes, we’ll hear each other better.”
Her frown softens. “Ah, that. Sure. Yes, you’re right. Okay, then let’s dance a little longer.”
She puts her hands behind my nape, and I lower both of my palms to her waistline, just above her hipbones. Having her arms slung around my neck makes me fantasize about how it would be like if she hugged me like this before a kiss.
Dum, dum, dum.
My heart is all too excited by this image, like the rest of my body, for that matter. So I force my mind to abandon the enigma of how deliciously Eva’s mouth could taste and ask, “Aren’t you glad Murphy and I came along?”
“Yes, I am. It’s a nice double date,” Eva answers, then she winces as if she isn’t happy about her own words.
Finally
! The word must have slipped through her control, but I’m so glad it did. “Ah, a date, huh? I love this definition. I’d much rather you call me your date than Judy.”
“Well, yes. A date, dinner, meeting…whatever,” Eva tries to cover up her gaff, but I’ve heard what I’ve heard. And now I am sure I’m not the only one dazzled by this magical moment of closeness.
This discovery invigorates me enough that I tighten my grip on Eva and start to lead her. It feels good to be the one in control, because Eva clearly enjoys handing me the baton. She relaxes in my arms so that her chin rests on my chest as she looks up at me.
A perplexing thought occurs to me: Is it possible that not always being the dominant one can make the moment when I’m in charge feel even more precious? Perhaps it’s like with the salsa beats. The pause enhances the movement. Without one, the other is weak—or even nonexistent.
Eva blinks up at me. “You’re a fast learner, Nathan.”
“No. It’s you who is a very good teacher. Why don’t you turn this into your profession for real?”
Teaching would be a less demanding occupation for a young, attractive woman like Eva. I’d much rather see her explaining to others how to move in the daytime than to perform for countless men at night. Even if her bar has good rules to protect their dancers as Eva explained to me, I worry that she could get approached by someone.
Someone like you? The cynical voice in my head is right. I’m not supposed to intervene in her life, as I won’t be staying in it for long, but I can’t help it. I’m feeling very protective of Eva.
She shrugs. “It’s not like this idea didn’t cross my mind. In Silver Hills, I worked for a dancing school. But here in San Sebastian, I couldn’t find anyplace that was looking for my skills. That’s why I—” She stops and bites her lower lip.
I’ve seen this gesture enough times in the past few days to know that she’s feeling embarrassed. I lower my head so that my forehead is almost touching hers. “Please don’t be shy with me.”
Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) Page 15