by Ava Miles
He was a man. He could take it.
“Which one? ‘Dancing Queen’?” Women loved that song.
Her smile was feral, the kind women used when they knew a man was about to be flayed alive for their entertainment.
“No. Too obvious. It’s ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme A Man After Midnight.’”
He was doomed.
Chapter 12
Every morning when Elizabeth woke, she couldn’t help but count down the days until her Monday dance class.
Until she would see Terrance again.
God, she needed a distraction. Thank goodness she was meeting Jane for lunch today. Now that the primary was over, her friend had more free time. She pulled on some designer jeans with a rhinestone fleur de lis on the back pocket and threw on a fitted gray cashmere sweater. The day was already in the fifties, and she was happy to leave her coat at home.
Main Street was busy with people enjoying the nice weather, and she had to park a couple of blocks from Brasserie Dare. Her black knee-length boots didn’t slide on the snowy street like they usually did, since all of the white stuff was thankfully gone.
Jane was already at the restaurant when she arrived, talking to her fellow wine connoisseur, Chef Brian McConnell. Three glasses with one-ounce pours were arranged in front of her friend, and she was sipping a fourth glass when Elizabeth joined them.
“I see he has you doing blind tastings again,” she commented as she slid into the chair. “Hi, Brian.”
“Hey, Elizabeth,” he said, shoving back some of the brown curls around his ears. “This will be the highlight of my day. I’ve never met someone who’s so good at identifying wine.”
“I should come here for lunch every day,” Jane mused, twirling the ruby red liquid around in the glass and inhaling its nose again. “Wonderful vintage. Château Destieux. Ah…2010, I would guess.”
“Incredible!” Brian cried. “If you didn’t already have a job, I would lure you into being my new sommelier.”
Jane smiled that million-dollar Audrey Hepburn smile of hers. “You’re going to hire one?”
Brian puffed out his chest. “Business is good. Real good.”
“I’m so glad,” Jane said. “You know it’s my favorite place.”
Brian made room for the server who set down water glasses with lemon, no ice, just the way they preferred it. “I’m not sure if that will change now that Chef T has taken over The Grand, but we’ll see. Right now, I’m focusing on what I can control.”
“A place like Dare can handle two gourmet restaurants, I think,” Jane said.
Brian picked up the wine glasses. “I know he’s tight with Rhett and Mac, and since he’s going to start coming to our poker nights when his schedule changes, I’m sure I’ll get to know him. Heck, we might have to start a drink night after one of our shifts, like I did with some of my buddies in New York City. There aren’t a lot of chefs in Dare, and it’s fun to talk shop with other people in the biz—even if they’re competitors.”
“That sounds like a healthy attitude,” Jane said.
“Now that Elizabeth is here, I was going to tell you about something special I had in mind for you two. I know how you love quiche.”
It had been a favorite ever since their first vacation together in France. “Tell us,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her hands together, her taste buds already watering.
“Well, I have some morel mushrooms that just came in fresh, and I wanted to add some Gruyere and finish it with black truffle oil.”
“Yes, please,” Jane said, holding up her hand. “Elizabeth?”
“Does it come with a wheel barrow? Because I’m likely to ask for a second piece.”
“How about I send you both home with whatever you don’t finish?”
“That works,” Jane said. “Thanks, Brian.”
“Absolutely. Now, I’ll serve you up your favorite appetizer to share and bring you salad with the quiche.”
“You know how we like it,” Jane said. “You’re the best.”
“Don’t tell anyone, but you may be my favorite customers.” He winked and walked back to the kitchen.
“He really is too cute,” Elizabeth said. “Jill scored herself a prize when she married him.”
“Matt told me they’d known each other since childhood. They’ve had some rough patches, but it’s nice to see how happy they are together.” Jane downed her water in a couple of lusty swallows.
That kind of thirst only came from one thing. “So how’s the winning-the-primary sex?”
Jane waggled her eyebrows. “Pretty ridiculous.”
Her smugness had Elizabeth laughing. “You’re too much.”
“Of course, Matt was pretty upset for a while about his dad showing up at the party. His brothers and sisters were rattled too, and I’ve never seen April look so vulnerable. Uncle Arthur stood by her like a knight in shining armor. I was afraid he was going to dress down his nephew in front of everyone, but April took hold of him and sent him a silent message to keep the peace. It was hard to see them like that. Especially Danny. That kid looked like he’d lost his best friend when his grandpa barely hugged him.”
“Families, right?” Elizabeth said.
Jane nodded. “I tried to tell Matt that at least his dad came, but he wasn’t feeling too open-minded. I had to backpedal a bit. It’s hard to image how awkward it must have been for Mr. Hale. You know, he hasn’t seen April or his kids since the breakup. Not that I’m excusing the way he let April walk out without a word. Apparently Matt’s sisters ended up drinking all of April’s vodka. They left for Denver later than they’d planned the next day.”
Unlike the Hales, there was no soft landing in her family. Her parents sucked, and she had no siblings. “I like Matt’s sister a lot. Natalie ran interference with Terrance for me.”
“She did? That raises her to a whole new status of cool. She gets having history with a man. She and her ex, Blake, were apparently pretty volatile when things went bad between them. Speaking of volatile, what’s going on with Terrance anyway? You haven’t said much about him, and I know you…” Her finger lifted and she pointed it straight at Elizabeth. “What are you hiding?”
Their appetizers arrived before Elizabeth could answer. Brian’s decadent homemade foie gras with a golden, crispy baguette and the best cornichon pickles this side of the Atlantic. Delicious, but not enough to distract Jane, who gave her a don’t bullshit me look.
“Well, if you must know, Terrance asked me out, and I told him the only way that was happening was if he came to my dance class.”
Jane’s laughter burst out, causing nearby patrons to glance over. “You’re kidding! He’d never do that.”
Elizabeth spread the mixture on the sliced baguette and added a cornichon on top. “That’s what I thought, but he says he’s coming. We’ll see. He might wimp out or storm out once he hears my new dance music.”
An evil smile spread across her face as she told Jane about her plan. They had a laugh over it, and then she popped the bite she’d prepared into her mouth. “Seriously,” she said through a moan, “nothing that spreads like this should taste this good.”
“If Rhett was here, he would no doubt make up some dirty joke about that.”
“So would Terrance,” she said. And yes, she missed that part of him. The sexy, playful flirt.
“You still want him,” Jane said as she made up a slice of baguette with foie gras.
“Of course I do. He’s still sexy beyond words, funny, and ridiculously sweet at times. But I can’t keep things casual with him.”
Jane bit into her baguette slice. Her eyes fluttered, and she moaned too. “Brian is a genius with foie gras. Okay, give me a moment to let my brain return to normal.”
“Eat away.”
They both feasted on the appetizer, and pretty soon all that was left were crumbs. The server came and swept everything away.
“You were never casual with Terrance, Liz. I was there at The Peacock.” She folded her hands on t
he table. “I saw the way you looked at him. The way you acted. You’ve never done that with anyone else.”
Girlfriends always spoke the truth. “I don’t like feeling that way. Unhinged.”
“Good for you, love is,” her friend said in the worst Yoda imitation of all time.
“You’re using Star Wars now?” Elizabeth burst out laughing. “This has to be Matt’s influence.”
The waitress set their salads and quiche in front of them. They both thanked her, but neither made a move for the decadent-looking quiche.
“Liz, what I’m trying to say is that Terrance was never a jerk to you.”
She picked at her salad and dropped her fork. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Maybe you’re underestimating him…and yourself.”
Elizabeth’s hand clutched the edge of the table. Could a serious relationship between them really work? Terrance wasn’t Vince, but he did have violent streak. Plus he liked women—a lot of women—and that wouldn’t change. He might want her now, but after a while, he’d want someone new. Wouldn’t he?
“Brian’s special quiche is getting cold,” she finally said and reached for a slice, serving Jane first and then herself.
The quiche was luscious, but they didn’t eat with their normal gusto.
“What if he actually stays for your dance class and you have to go out with him?” Jane finally asked.
Her thighs clenched.
Her brain might not know what to do, but her body clearly had its own ideas.
Chapter 13
Terrance was in dance hell. Those were the only words for it.
And Jill Hale… Well, she was devious, mean, and unrelenting. He’d named her Dr. Evil after their first lesson.
“Dammit, Jill, I am not some fuc…Rockette.”
Jill picked up the notepad she had on her desk. “That’s four hundred dollars, Terrance, and we’ve only been at this for ten minutes. For crying out loud, you men are such babies. You could never give birth.”
Give birth? What man had ever envied that? “I just can’t wiggle my hips like you want, Jill. I swear.”
“Yes, you do swear. Loud and often.”
She jumped off the corner of her desk where she was sitting. Her director’s perch, as she called it. Jill had been helping him for two days during her lunch hour. So far, he was sure he’d pulled a groin muscle and possibly a butt muscle from all of the wiggling and hip thrusting she’d thrown at him.
“For a man who’s supposedly good with the ladies, I thought you’d be a master of the bump and grind.”
The bump and grind was the most embarrassing move on the planet outside of the bedroom, especially when Jill was playing Cher’s “Do You Believe In Love?’”
Elizabeth had upped the ante by changing her music to songs guaranteed to castrate any man.
Someone shoot him now.
“I prefer to be naked when I’m doing that move,” he said, putting his hands on his hips as he gave the motion another try.
“Oh, it’s the clothes part that’s the problem, eh? Brian forgot to use that one on me. Well, feel free to strip down to whatever you feel is necessary. Everyone knows I’m a happily married woman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good show.”
He growled at her.
“Good! Now tuck in your tummy like I showed you and curl your hips up. It’s like a pelvic tilt. You learn it in pre-natal Pilates. Maybe we should sign you up.”
Her pregnancy and breast feeding allusions were making him nauseous. “Sign up yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” Had her eyes turned red?
“Nothing.”
“Okay, let’s try it again. Watch me.”
She thrust her hips out and then curled them back in, and just to show off, executed another move that could have won her first prize at the World Pole Dancing competition.
He started to sweat. All of the moves Elizabeth had in the class were like that. And the class was an hour long. He would have to dance like he was in some porn version of Flashdance if he wasn’t going to look like a fool.
“Men aren’t supposed to dance like this,” he finally admitted, ready to throw in the towel.
“Oh, no. Remember your promise. If you quit, I’m going to tell the world about our sessions.”
He put his hands on his hips, trying to intimidate her like she was a new line cook in his kitchen. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Right. Dr. Evil didn’t intimidate.
“Okay, let’s try something different,” she said. “I was trying to show you the easy parts before moving on to the dance steps.”
The easy parts?
He was screwed.
“What do you know about salsa?”
“It’s a Latin condiment of tomatoes, peppers, and spices best served with tortilla chips.”
“Funny.”
He thought so.
Dr. Evil came and stood beside him. “Salsa is all about rhythm. Here’s the basic move. Start on the right foot. Back. Together. Forward. Together.”
He tried to match her movements, and after they did it ten times, he was feeling a little lighter. “Hey, I got it.”
“Not so fast, Pit Bull,” she told him. “Now you have to add the hips.”
The hips? Crap. He might as well try and dance with his feet tied together.
“Come on. Like this,” she said, shaking her booty.
“I’m never going to get this.”
She popped him in the arm, something she wasn’t the slightest bit shy about doing whenever the mood struck. “Stop with the whining. I expect more from you. Tell me. What’s the hardest dish you ever learned to make?”
He chose the first one that came to mind. “St. Honoré cake. I went through dozens of batches before I learned to make the puff pastry and cream puffs like a French baker…and then you have to dip the cream puffs in caramelized sugar without getting the pastry wet. It’s a b—. And then attaching them to the puff pastry base without ruining the pâte à choux… You can see why the dessert is named after a saint. You have to have the patience of one to get it right.”
“And how long did it take you to master it?” she asked.
“Three weeks.” He’d thrown one ruined batch at the wall.
“If you can do that, you can dance for an hour. Remember, all you have to do is show up and struggle through an hour-long dance class to make Elizabeth go out with you. Isn’t that worthwhile?” She flung a hand at his arm, and for a second he thought she was going to sock him again. “Don’t answer me right now. It’s like asking a woman giving birth if she’s willing to get pregnant again.”
A knock sounded on the door, and it opened before either of them could react.
“Jill?” his boss and good friend asked, standing in the doorway in a navy suit. “Terrance. Are you two having a party? Without inviting me?”
Right. Cher wasn’t exactly normal background music for a professional meeting.
“I’m teaching him how to dance,” Dr. Evil proudly announced, her eyes like twin saucers of doom. His doom.
“Really…”
“You weren’t supposed to say anything,” he hissed for her ears only.
She shrugged.
Was it possible for the ground to open up and swallow you when you were on the second floor? “What Jill means is that she’s showing me the music she likes to dance to.”
Mac’s mouth twitched. “I see. And you have a new fascination with Cher? Funny, somehow I missed that, knowing you all these years.”
Oh, the curses he wanted to unleash. His wallet couldn’t handle it.
“It’s a dare of sorts,” Jill told their boss, who was enjoying this moment way too much.
Terrance gave her a withering look, which only made her smile wider. She locked her arm through his. “Want to see some of his moves?”
“Another time perhaps. I’ll just…leave these papers for you to go over and sign.” He crossed over t
o her desk, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Enjoy your lesson, Terrance.”
Great. Now his boss and friend knew his secret. Pretty soon Rhett would know too, and while Mac might refrain from teasing, Rhett wouldn’t.
“What possessed you?” he asked when the door closed.
“It’s going to be all over town that you showed up at Elizabeth’s dance class. Might as well start getting used to the attention. Plus, maybe your guy friends can help you in your off time.”
Sometimes Jill made him want to hurl himself out of a window.
“But no one is supposed to know I’m practicing.”
She leveled him a glance. “You’re whining again.” Glancing at her watch, she tapped the hideous purple, rhinestone face. Where did she find those things anyway? “Our time has come to a close for today, and since you’re not coming along as fast as I’d hoped, I’m going to give you homework. I brought in some of my favorite dancing movies. I want you to watch them.”
Homework? What was he? Some kid in middle school?
When she presented him with Dirty Dancing like it was the Queen Mother’s favorite crown, he groaned.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You need some inspiration. Trust me. This movie is going to help.”
He was working on the new menu at the Grand and Mac's other hotels now. And she expected him to watch this chick flick?
“Then there’s Step Up and Footloose.” She shoved them at his chest.
Shoot him. Right now.
The door burst open again, and in swaggered Rhett Butler Blaylock, a grin as mile-wide as the Mile High stadium on his face. “Heard somebody’s getting dance lessons.”
Well, that had been quick. The glee in Rhett’s voice was unmistakable. Dr. Evil had just met Mr. Evil.
“Somebody was supposed to keep her mouth shut, and I’m so outta here.”
Rhett snagged him with a meaty hand and clucked under his tongue. “Mac told me your taste in music had changed, and I just had to pull myself away from the poker tables to see for myself. Cher, mon ami?”
“Shit.”
That hundred was the best money he’d spent all day.
