by Dancing
queen, but also with Rose Vasquez, a world-renowned
professional dancer." Mona stepped back to wave them
onstage.
Though Rose had performed all over the globe, she
had never suffered from a worse case of nerves.
Then Dalton smiled and took her hand, giving her
fingers a gentle squeeze. He mouthed, "You look
beautiful."
The next four minutes passed in a blur of whispered
touches and fervent glances. The passion between them
was rekindled. As was the attraction that had first driven
her into Dalton's arms. As the music swelled, so did her
heart. He was a wonderful man. He was good for her.
Good for Anna. Just because she'd opened her heart to
let him in didn't mean she had to block John out. Her
memories of him, of nights like this, sharing the stage
together, would always be with her. Only now, she'd
make new memories.
There, in Dalton's arms, Rose felt as if she'd finally
come home. Finishing to thunderous applause, hand in
hand they took a bow.
At that moment, Rose vanquished all thoughts of
what Becca's mom or Alice might think of their pairing.
As all of these cheering people could plainly see, the
two of them belonged together.
Would their relationship one day evolve into some-
thing more? Maybe even marriage? She couldn't say.
All she really knew was that for the first time in a long
time, she felt happy. Complete. And for the moment,
that was enough.
Surrendering her man to the outgoing queen, Rose
wistfully smiled at the sight of him expertly maneuver-
ing the girl across the stage. He might temporarily have
another woman in his arms, but she was the woman he'd
go home with.
"Our new Miss Hot Pepper is..." Mona's hands shook
while reading the news from the judging form. "Miss
Shreveport, Chelsea Prioux! Congratulations, Chelsea!"
The town's orchestra launched into their version of
the Miss America theme song.
"Here she is." Alice sang in a falsetto, "Miss Hot
Pepppp-errrr..."
Amidst cheers and confetti and balloons, Dalton took
Rose's hand, tugging her close. Into her ear, he whis-
pered, "That should be you up there. Clearly, you're
most deserving of the crown."
"Clearly, you're delusional. Did you see how the girl
looked in her swimsuit?"
"You forget, I've seen how you look in your birthday
suit, and it's a pretty amazing sight. Definitely worthy
of a crown."
"You need crowning," she teased.
"On a serious note," he said, putting his arm around
her waist and leading her to a backstage area where
there weren't so many crying or giggling girls, "I
thought our dances rocked. Thank you. My father and
fellow pageant-committee members will be proud."
"You're the one who should be proud, Dalton. When I
think of how far you've come in such a short time..." Her
eyes welled. "I believe you're one of my best students."
"Students?" he teased, while a prop guy whistled by,
giant hot pepper in his arms. "I'm not sure I'm comfort-
able being referred to as a student."
"Truthfully." she said, inching him into a forgot-
ten corner, then kissing him with hungry abandon, "I
suppose we have moved our relationship in a more
intimate direction."
"Then maybe we should get a babysitter for Anna
tonight. Unless..." Hand beneath her chin, he tipped her
face back, peering into her soft brown eyes. "Where
does John fit into all of this?"
Swallowing hard, she shook her head. "Onstage,
something in me changed. No one will ever be as strong
a tango partner as John. Dancing was his life. But you,
Dalton Montgomery, have skills all your own that flow
so nicely with mine. Dancing with you tonight, I felt like
we were a couple. With your help, I've finally realized that
love is a precious gift—not to be feared, but cherished. I
can't let fears of what might be ruin the magic of what
already is. I love you."
Holding her for all he was worth, Dalton breathed in
her musky exotic scent, and reveled in the feel of her
molded against him.
"Let's go home," she said, the words warm against
his throat.
"Do I get to stay the night?"
"Duh." Her grin dazzled. "It's pretty much become
your home, too." Rose pulled out her cell phone and
made arrangements to drop Anna off at the sitter's.
Arm in arm, Anna giggling ten paces behind with her
friends, they left the stage and wound through the
crowd. It felt good to be a unit, the three of them against
the storm. Not that the crowd was particularly unruly,
but losing queen candidates and their families weren't
exactly the most chipper of folks.
They'd just made it to the auditorium doors when
Dalton groaned.
"What's wrong?" Rose asked.
"Trouble to our right. Want to run, hide or face it
head-on?"
She swatted his forearm, then, with a warm smile,
greeted his parents and the trio they had with them.
"Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. I'm Rose—Dalton's danc-
ing instructor. It's so nice to finally meet you."
"Likewise, dear," Dalton's mom said, warmly grasp-
ing Rose's hand. "Dalton speaks of you often."
"In glowing terms, I hope."
"Absolutely," said Miranda. She held out her hand,
introducing herself and her parents, as well. "The per-
formances were wonderful. You two should be proud."
"I know I am," Rose said. "Dalton?"
Chuckling, he tightened his hold on Rose. "I'm just
glad it's over."
"Miranda is quite an accomplished ballerina," his
mother said.
"Mmm. My husband and I used to hold season
tickets to the Texas Ballet Theater," said Rose.
"You were lucky," Miranda's mother said. The
woman, like her daughter, was tall, pale and thin. She
was undeniably beautiful and unfailingly polite. Mrs.
Browning had spent a lifetime becoming the perfect
corporate wife. She'd groomed her daughter for the
same. She should be the perfect woman for him.
Only one problem—Rose was the woman his pulse
raced for.
"We're headed for a late dinner," Dalton's father said.
"Son, how about joining us." It wasn't so much a
question as a command.
"Thanks, but Rose and I already have plans."
"She's welcome, too. Rose—that is," Miranda's
mother interjected. "I'll call the club and ask Bernard
to add one to our reservation."
"Thank you," Rose said.
"Yes, thank you," Dalton added, "but really, we
have plans."
"Son..." His father's stony glare said what his words
didn't: Do it, or else. Only, Dalton was no longer a
heartbroken kid straight out of a disastrous marriage. He
wasn't hungry for a job or desperate to find his place in
the world. At the mo
ment, the only world for him was
Rose's. "Your mother and I would very much like for
you to join us."
"I appreciate that, Dad. But what I'd very much like
is to spend the evening with Rose—alone."
Chapter Thirteen
"Man, that was exhilarating."
Rose glanced across the front seat of Dalton's SUV.
After they'd dropped Anna off Dalton had really started
to loosen up. He tapped his fingers in time to an Aero-
smith classic, and in the glare of lights from oncoming
cars, appeared breathtakingly handsome and strong.
"What was exhilarating?"
After stopping for a light, he clasped her hand,
bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Telling my parents, no."
"Not something you do often, I take it?"
"Not nearly enough."
"Miranda's lovely."
"She's not half as pretty as you." Releasing her
hand, he accelerated through the light, down Cincin-
nati with its historic, redbrick storefronts and white
lights in the trees.
"Think you can charm your way out of it, huh?" She
rubbed his shoulder.
"Out of what?"
"It's kind of obvious your parents and Miranda's
would like nothing better than for the two of you to
be together."
"And." He turned left, then sharply veered right,
narrowly avoiding a pair of revelers who looked a bit
tipsy from the festival's beer garden and square dance.
"And so that left me feeling like a third wheel back
there."
"You're being silly."
"Am I, Dalton? The whole time we've been together,
I've sensed you holding a part of yourself back."
"What part?" He turned onto the side street leading
into the alley behind her loft.
"I don't know." She crossed her arms, hesitant to break
the light banter with a serious subject, yet feeling as if it
needed to be done. "I just thought you might have a secret."
He laughed. "A secret? Like a hidden tail? Or maybe
a penchant for eating bananas during full moons?"
"Stop," she said, gently squeezing his thigh.
Pulling up behind the loft, he turned off the lights and
killed the engine.
"I'm being serious."
"Like I'm not?" He winked. "I've gotta say it's going
to be one helluva relief to get that tail out in the open.
I've been having awful cramps."
Shaking her head, grinning despite herself, Rose un-
fastened her seat belt. Clearly, he was avoiding her
probing question, but that was okay. By choosing her
over both Miranda and his parents, he'd told her that he
took her and their relationship seriously. But had he grown
to care for her as much as she and Anna cared for him?
Their lovemaking that night was tender and slow. And
when morning dawned with sunshine drenching the
bed, Rose took it as a sign that as that weekend's dismal
weather had passed, so had her life's storm.
Easing from beneath the covers while Dalton was
still lightly snoring, she pressed a kiss to his smooth
forehead. Then she had a leisurely bubble bath in the
oversize soaking tub.
Eyes closed in contentment, she prayed Dalton would
wake feeling this good. She prayed for him to have a
sense of grace and clarity in regard to his life's direction.
Of course, he shouldn't abruptly quit the bank without
some other plan in place, but as miserable as he'd been,
it was high time he focus on life's beauty for a change.
Contentedly wriggling her toes, she shook her head.
Since when had she become such a Pollyanna?
"This a private party? Or can anyone join in?"
Grinning up at Dalton, she scooted back, making
room. "By all means, please, climb in."
He did.
She added more hot water and bubbles and soon,
bathtime had been transformed into fun time with
kissing and splashing and laughing till her sides hurt.
He'd shifted to the rear of the tub, pulling her atop
him. Eyes closed, kissing him, she abandoned herself
to his spell.
"Thank you," he softly said. "You've awakened
creative parts of me I'd feared forever lost. For that, I'm
not sure how to repay you."
"Nonsense." Tracing his lips, she said, "I'm the one
who should be thanking you."
After another kiss, he said, "How about if we count
to three, then give mutual thanks?"
"Sounds like an excellent plan."
"Okay. One, two—"
A muted electronic sound pierced the loft's morn-
ing hush.
"What was that?" Rose asked.
Dalton groaned. "My cell."
It finally stopped.
"Do you need to answer?"
"Definitely not. Where were we?"
"Counting."
"Ah, yes. One—"
The phone rang again.
"This is why I've never wanted a cell. Seems like
they always ring at the worst possible time."
"Ignore it," he said, hand at the back of her head,
urging her lips to his. "No doubt someone at the bank
misplaced a file, or can't figure out how to unjam the
copy machine."
The phone's chirpy electronic tone stopped, but
started right back up.
"You'd better get it," Rose said. "Sounds like
whoever it is wants you pretty bad."
When it stopped, Dalton said, "See? Whoever it was,
they wisely went away."
"Go," Rose said, easing off of him so he could get
out of the tub.
With a whoosh of water, he pushed himself up,
snagging a red towel from the rack, wrapping it around
his waist. "I'm sorry about this."
"It's okay." She loved the sight of him. Muscular
shoulders and back, radiating strength. The incongru-
ous picture he made wearing only a towel while taking
what was obviously an important call brought on a
giggle. Then a defeated edge to his posture erased her
urge to laugh.
Shoulders sagging, he said, "Of course. I understand.
I'll be there as soon as possible."
Be where? she longed to ask, but waited until he'd
set down his phone.
"Dalton?" She rose from the tub, wrapping herself
in a towel before going to him. Hands pressed against
his chest, she dared ask, "What's wrong?"
A muscle ticking in his jaw, he wouldn't meet her
gaze. "I have to go. My father had another heart attack."
Dalton drove to the hospital more recklessly than he
should've, but he figured what the hell did it matter if
he got a ticket? Worse yet, rammed himself into a tele-
phone pole? He couldn't physically hurt more than he
already did.
Rose had begged him to let her come along to the
hospital, but he gave her the excuse that since his father
was in intensive care, no one but family was allowed
to see him.
Rose had told him she wouldn't be at the hospital to
see his father, but to support him. He'd still refused
because secretly, he didn't want her witnessing the end
; of their beautiful dream. In the harsh light of day, that's
what the two of them were. With his dad so ill, he could
no more leave the bank than he could change his eyes
from blue to green.
One call, and all his hard-won resolve had vanished.
He'd been plunged headfirst back into the role of
prodigal son.
He finished the trip without incident, only to find that
the nurses wouldn't let him in to see his dad.
The head nurse led him to a windowless, beige
waiting room, which was dark except for a pool of light
from a corner lamp. Stale coffee and desperation
scented the air.
A man with a small girl—maybe age two or three—
on his lap slumped in a recliner at the far end of the
room. An elderly gentleman pretended to be reading a
battered copy of Reader's Digest, but his eyes kept
darting to the door.
Beside a dark TV sat Dalton's mother, looking ten
years older than her age. When she saw him, she smiled,
and he was filled with guilt for ever having put his own
needs ahead of hers.
"How are you?" he asked. When she rose, he gave
her a hug. She seemed frail and smelled faintly of arthri-
tis cream. When had she grown old?
"I'm fine," she said. "We were having breakfast at the
club when it happened. Your dad was in the midst of a
heated debate over whether or not we should do like
some of those bigger banks, and stay open till all hours
of the night, when it happened. Alice was here, but I sent
her home. I know she'll need to be in the office early in
the morning, and I figured there was no sense in her
sitting around when they won't even let us inside." When
she shivered, Dalton removed his lightweight jacket,
slipping it over her shoulders. Sinking back into her chair,
she said, "Your father's doctor sees no reason why he
shouldn't recover, but I have to tell you, it does my heart
good knowing he won't have to worry about the bank. I
know he doesn't always show it, but he's been so im-
pressed by your work, Dalton. He's very proud of you."
Lead settling between his shoulders, Dalton backed
into the chair beside her.
His mom patted his knee. "You've always been such
an asset to him—to us both. We love you."
"I love you, too," he said, thinking of Rose, wishing
he'd told her he loved her before leaving. Only just now
did he realize that fact. He loved her. But because of
that love, he owed it to her to not get her mired in his
messy life.
