Saved by the Salsa

by Barbara Barrett

  “What do we do next? Jack agreed to this farce for a limited time. As awkward as tonight was, we have to follow up with something else soon. Before Brian goes off the deep end or the strain forces Jack to beg off.”

  “Are you really going antiquing with Jack this Sunday?” Jack and antiques didn’t mesh.

  Celia released a drawn-out sigh. “He improvised, apparently wanting to give Brian something more to chew on. He had no idea Brian was actually into the stuff.”

  “Good, because Brian needs a few days to calm down before we confront him with you and Jack again.” Plus, her new project needed all her immediate attention. She couldn’t afford the time and effort worrying about Brian would take out of her. “Tell you what. Let’s forget about Brian for the rest of the evening. It’s been a long, exhausting week. I could use some relaxation.”

  Celia slanted a smile her direction. “You actually think you can enjoy the rest of the evening?”

  “At least it’s a free meal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Once dinner had been cleared and dessert was underway, their host began to work the room.

  “Uh-oh,” Jack said under his breath, leaning in so only Lacey and Celia could hear him. “Birthday Boy Boss at two o’clock.”

  Lacey broke her concentration on her crème brûlée. Two o’clock? It was well past eight. By the time Jack’s warning clicked, Cam was bearing down on their table. Too late to make a hasty retreat.

  “Good evening, folks,” Cam said.

  They greeted him and wished him well on his birthday.

  Displaying a ludicrous grin, he announced in a slightly tipsy voice, “My goal is to dance with every woman here tonight. Celia, you’re next.” He extended an arm to guide her to the dance floor.

  Celia smiled on cue and followed him.

  Lacey and Jack found themselves alone with each other, the other two couples at the table having sought out the dance floor as well. Jack sipped his drink, then exhaled at length. “Would you like another glass of wine? Your brother truly left you high and dry.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You want to join the others?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively toward the dance floor.

  “Thanks, but—”

  “Your turn with Cam is next, unless you’re already out there with me.”

  Three days ago, she’d been floating on air to have been included in the site inspection. Especially when the big boss told her to call him Cam. Now, she wanted to avoid him at all costs so she wouldn’t have to discuss Project Veronica. She was pleased with the project plan she’d developed and the direction their research was taking but not prepared to explain it all on the dance floor. Though the admission pained her, Jack was a better spokesperson.

  “Okay,” she conceded, choosing what she hoped was the lesser of two evils. She rose and let him guide her out to the tiny slab of hardwood floor where numerous couples were jammed together swinging and swaying.

  She almost jumped out of her gown when his hand touched her back. She reacted the same way back in his office earlier in the day. Why was this happening? She’d been in close contact with many a man over the years, but their touch had never affected her this way. What was there about Jack Dalton?

  She allowed herself a quick peek to see if he’d felt it too. If possible, his eyes had darkened beyond their usual chocolate color. A glint she hadn’t noticed before gleamed back at her.

  The dance was a light-hearted love song. Even though he held her at arms’ length, she continued to be very aware of him. His aftershave, something spicy, tantalized her nostrils. The rich fabric of his close-cut tux couldn’t disguise taut shoulder muscles that rippled slightly each time he shifted his weight.

  Stop it, Lacey! It’s just a dance. She willed herself to think of something else besides this vibrant hunk of man, but her body wouldn’t obey. Maybe it was simply the excitement of being out on a dance floor for the first time in months causing her breath to catch and her heart to bang against her chest.

  “How’s the detective work going?” he asked, his mouth so close to her ear, his breath tickled.

  Detective work?

  He nodded in the direction of the other dancers. “You know, interviewing the baby boomers at the party?”

  “Oh, right.” Brian’s outburst had driven her assignment for the night to the back of her mind despite the opportunity it presented for their rushed project schedule. “How’re you doing?”

  “As dismally as you,” he admitted. “I’ve been occupied entertaining Celia.”

  “So I’ve seen.”

  “And your excuse?”

  “Sorry about my brother. He asked me to apologize to both you and Celia.”

  “What’s with him? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the wounded party. Not Celia.”

  “I wish I knew. But it appears his loss is your gain.”

  “You mean with Celia?” He started to say something but stopped, started again. “No offense, but regarding Celia, the guy’s a fool.”

  She couldn’t agree more, but thought it wise to end further discussion of Celia and Brian, or she might let slip she knew about his deal with her friend. “About my detective work? I was waiting to take my lead from you. But since you’re here with Celia, looks like I’ll have to strike out on my own. As soon as I find some boomers.”

  He pulled away slightly, crinkling his forehead. “What’s the mystery? They’re all over the place.”

  She was about to reply when the music ended and another tune started. Salsa.

  Jack cocked his head. “Cam’s doing?”

  “The dance? Surely he’s forgotten our conversation in the car the other day?”

  “Don’t underestimate the man, even when he’s tipped a few too many champagne glasses. Shall we?”

  Had it been any other dance, Lacey would have politely said no. But she loved Salsa and, of late, she’d been short on dance partners. She agreed without hesitation.

  The next few minutes were a blur of sound, blinking lights and weaving bodies. Jack guided her through the complicated footwork like a champion quarterback running a play. He brought her body up close so their moves matched each other perfectly. As they grew more comfortable with each other’s styles, his hand stole slightly below her waist to guide her hips.

  The movement had her gasping for air, but she attributed it to the thrill of the dance.

  Jack took them through routines she had never encountered despite numerous visits to Salsa clubs. But she met him step for step, exhilarated by the challenge. Jack’s eyes burned. Her skin glistened from the exertion and the heat of the moment.

  They floated and swirled, awash in the music, but her eyes couldn’t leave Jack’s. If possible, the glint from earlier had sharpened into the undeniable look of desire every woman instinctively recognized. In response, strange sensations pulsed through her body—sensations which blended physical arousal with emotional need while her heart pounded in rhythm to the Latin beat.

  She noted vaguely how the crowd parted to make room for them. When the dance ended, the two of them stood there, chests heaving, suspended in a moment only they shared.

  A wave of applause broke the spell, as other couples came up to congratulate them.

  “You were fantastic!” a fiftyish-looking woman cried.

  The man with her chimed in. “The couple on our CD does similar steps, but I’ve never seen them done in person. You guys are great.”

  “How long have you been dancing together?” another woman asked. “You were so well synchronized.”

  Fanning her face, Lacey didn’t know what to say. “Uh, well, uh, no…it was spontaneous.”

  Apparently Jack’s lungs had survived better than hers as he was able to address the crowd. “My partner’s still a little winded, folks. We’re giving a class, if you’re interested. Monday night at seven. Mackenzie and Associates.” Announcement delivered, Jack grasped her hand and led her back to their table.

  “A c
lass?” she gasped between breaths. “Are you crazy?”

  “I enjoyed dancing with you too.” He pulled out her chair for her. When she was seated and he was in his own chair, he leaned across the table conspiratorially. “Did you happen to notice anything our group of admirers had in common?”

  She chugged down her entire water glass before replying. “They were able to breathe normally?”

  “Try again. Never mind, catch your breath. I’ll tell you—they were all boomers!”

  His statement left her cold, struggling to put two and two together.

  Losing patience, he said, “Don’t you get it? We won’t have to go chasing after them. Now they’ll come to us and fall all over themselves supplying details about their lifestyles.”

  It clicked. “What a fabulous idea.” She didn’t even cringe at the thought of congratulating him.

  “It’s about time you caught on.”

  Another thought tugged at her. “You had us grabbing the spotlight out there for this very result.” He’d sucked her in as well as the boomers. She’d actually enjoyed dancing with him. All part of his grand scheme. Deflating.

  He studied her a moment as if deciding what to say. Then a self-satisfied smirk stole across his face. He pulled at his lapel. “I’m good, huh? It came to me during the first dance. I’ve heard boomers have this thing about being on the cutting edge, including the latest dance craze. When the Salsa piece came on, it was as if it was meant to be.”

  She forced herself to smile. “You’re good all right. I’ll bet you’ve already figured out how to get Cam’s blessing to use the office.”

  The light went out of his face temporarily. Brightening, he shrugged. “No problem. Didn’t you notice his wife, Marianne, in our crowd of admirers?”

  “Okay. Which leaves only one stone unturned.”

  “Yes?”

  “Neither of us has the slightest experience teaching Salsa.”

  He was still giving her a blank look when Celia returned to the table. “Some show out there, you two.”

  “Did you hear his announcement? We’re going to teach a Salsa class.”

  Celia’s gaze went from her to Jack. “Really? Why? Don’t you have your hands full working on Cam’s special project?”

  “This is research for the project,” Lacey reassured her.

  Celia’s eyes narrowed, as if attempting to catch up as well as figure out why Lacey had agreed to spend more time with Jack. “For the project?”

  “Sorry,” Jack said. “Can’t say more. You know how hush-hush this project is. The idea for this class just came up. Apparently we gained some fans out there on the dance floor. They want to learn to do what we did.”

  Celia turned to Jack. “I thought we had plans for next week.”

  “This will just take one night. It’s important, Celia.”

  Celia glanced back at Lacey, who was still absorbing this new development herself.

  A dance class for boomers was an absolutely brilliant stroke of luck, but it meant spending more time wrapped in Jack’s arms and telling her body it didn’t mean anything. The Salsa wasn’t exactly a minuet. “Why don’t you take over for me, Celia?” she suggested.

  “Me?”

  “Celia?” Jack replied in a surprised tone.

  “You know how to Salsa, too, Cee. Then I wouldn’t be cutting into your time with your, uh, with Jack.”

  “No offense, Celia, but Lacey needs to be there with me. We only agreed to teach this class because we’re studying these folks for our project.”

  Chalk off one ploy. Time for another. “You’re welcome to attend, though,” Lacey added. “Right, Jack?”

  Dark brown murderous eyes bored through her. But before Jack could say anything, Celia added, “Never mind. I get it. As long as it’s just Monday night?”

  “Okay, then,” Jack put in before either woman said anything further.

  Damn! She needed Celia there to run interference for her. Now she’d have to figure out some other way to avoid too much contact with Jack.

  Chapter Eight

  Monday morning found Jack staring at the Newton’s Cradle on his desk. The tiny steel balls swung back and forth in their relentless quest for order. They didn’t have to think, didn’t have to do anything other than hang there suspended, waiting to be hit by their neighbor and follow the orbit designated by physics. The Yin and Yang of their life was so less complicated, so less critical than his life at the moment.

  Teaching a dance class for boomers had been genius, if he did say so himself. Teaching a dance class was also the stupidest thing he’d done in a long time.

  Intent on checking out his desk toy, he didn’t focus immediately on the figure in front of him. Jean. “This is what I’ve managed to gather thus far about baby boomers.” She handed him a three-ring binder.

  He’d been so focused on the dancing class as research tactic, he’d forgotten about the assignment he’d given her. “Thanks, Jean. This looks great.” He flipped through her work product.

  Her lips formed a shape vaguely resembling a smile. “If there’s anything else you need?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  “More on baby boomers?”

  “Not exactly, but related.” How much to tell her? “I got roped into giving Salsa dance lessons here tonight to some friends of Cameron Mackenzie. The instruction part I can handle, but I’m at a loss how to set it up. Got any ideas?”

  “I witnessed you and Miss Rogers at Mr. Mackenzie’s birthday party. It’s a Latin American dance, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s become quite popular in this country in recent years. Some places even have Salsa clubs.”

  Not a muscle on her face moved, yet her eyes seemed to widen slightly and take on the glow of the explorer summoned on yet another safari. “You’ll need refreshments. Hot, spicy things to go with the dance theme but plenty of bottled water and veggies for when their stomachs rebel.” She couldn’t resist the challenge.

  Refreshments. Of course! You could get away with almost anything if you served food. “Terrific! You take care of the food. I’ll provide the music.”

  But Jean wasn’t finished. Her head remained cocked, like she was still running through her own to-do list. “What about decorations?”

  “Not necessary. These are only dance lessons, not a dance.”

  “Read my report. Baby boomers are into ambience. The affluent ones spare no expense to obtain all the accouterments of their latest obsessions.”

  Now he had both Lacey and Jean quoting their research efforts to him. He’d created a monster. “Spend the rest of the day putting together whatever you need. If the other architects complain, send them to me. Or, better yet, invite them to the class.”

  She eyed him.

  “Something else?”

  “Do you have room in the class…” She hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “For me?”

  No-nonsense Jean Sarducci wanted to take Salsa lessons? The idea amused him. Lacey would be delighted. Well, no. Lacey didn’t want Jean anywhere near her. But the idea of Jean taking dance lessons was sure to tickle her. “Uh, okay. I had no idea you’d be interested, but feel free to join us. The more the merrier.”

  Jean taking dancing lessons? Couldn’t get his mind around it.

  He arrived at the Mackenzie and Associates conference room that evening thirty minutes early to set up. The minute he turned on the lights, he realized this would be no ordinary dance class. Jean had struck already, and as usual, the overachiever had executed her assigned task superbly.

  Life-sized palm trees surrounded the perimeter of the room. Colored lights and paper lanterns stretched from one tree to the next. A couple of fancy birdcages occupied the corners. One contained what appeared to be a multi-colored parrot and the other a macaw. Tucked away in another corner was an actual fountain with flowing water.

  You’ve only got yourself to blame. You’re the one who asked for her help.

  W
hile he was setting up his sound system, Jean arrived with the refreshments. At least, it appeared to be Jean, although this woman wasn’t wearing Jean’s hallmark dark suit and white blouse. She was decked out in a bright yellow dress, with ruffles around the bottom, no less. And orange shoes.

  “Oh, Mr. Dalton. I hoped I’d beat you here and get these goodies out before you arrived.”

  “No problem. Besides, it looks like you’ve already spent considerable time getting the room ready. It looks great.”

  Her face assumed a needy expression. “You really think so?”

  “Definitely. It looks like a slice of the Caribbean.”

  She scanned the room, admiring her work. “I’m glad you like it. I had fun and I kept expenses to a minimum. A friend at a local department store cleared out her tropical storeroom for me.

  “And the birds? You know someone at a pet store too?”

  He’d been teasing, but she took him seriously. “No, they’re mine.”

  “Oh…my…God!” Lacey stood inside the door, surveying the room as if she’d just landed on the moon.

  Jack moved toward Lacey, signaling with his eyes not to spoil Jean’s handiwork. “I asked Jean to help provide a little atmosphere. She did a great job, don’t you think?”

  Lacey glanced at Jack and then to the ever-efficient Jean, who was peering around his shoulder. “You could say that again.” She nodded in disbelief.

  “You don’t think it’s too much?” Jean’s voice had lost its usual supercilious quality.

  To Lacey’s credit, she allowed the look of incredulity she’d entered the room with to mellow into a softer smile. “No, of course not, Jean. You’ve provided quite an atmosphere.”

  Jean slipped in front of Jack and stood straighter. “Thank you, Miss Rogers. When one of you creative types gives a compliment, it means a lot. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have jerk chicken to warm.”

  As the woman scuttled off to tackle her next task, a bemused smile played across Lacey’s face. “What potion did you use on her?” she asked once Jean was out of hearing.