By Virtue Fall (The Shakespeare Sisters Book 4)

by Carrie Elks

  ‘You want to go dancing?’ she echoed. ‘With me?’ A ripple of excitement went through her. When was the last time she danced? A long time ago, unless you counted those stilted waltzes with Thomas when they went out for expensive dinners. He’d never really liked dancing – he preferred sitting and talking.

  ‘It was just a thought. We don’t have to.’

  ‘No, I want to.’ She nodded, catching his eye. She wasn’t going to listen to those voices in her head telling her what a bad idea it was. They were friends, she could handle it. ‘It sounds like fun.’

  This time his grin was broad, and it matched her own. ‘Okay then, Ginger Rogers, dancing it is. The Iguana Lounge won’t know what’s hit it.’

  11

  When you do dance, I wish you a wave o’ the sea,

  That you might ever do nothing but that

  – The Winter’s Tale

  ‘We’re here.’ Ryan turned off the ignition and climbed out of his truck, walking around to the passenger side to help Juliet down. It was one of those perfect autumn evenings. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving only the faintest of red staining the deepening blue sky. And though the temperature had dropped, the evening still held a hint of the summer’s warmth, wrapping around them as they made their way across the parking lot.

  ‘It’s not what I expected,’ Juliet said, looking across the lot to the low building that housed the Iguana Lounge. From the outside it could have been anywhere. It was just grey concrete blocks and a slate roof. She didn’t sound disappointed, though. More curious than anything. She walked slightly ahead of him, her long red hair tumbling down past her shoulders.

  Her dress was perfect for dancing, tight on the bodice, flowing from the waist, with a halter neck that bared her toned upper back.

  ‘What were you expecting?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged, still smiling. ‘My sister went to a salsa club in Miami once. She said it was full of palm trees and coloured lights, and people sitting outside.’

  ‘I guess Maryland’s a bit different to Miami.’

  ‘You can say that again. I can’t believe how diverse all the states are. When I talk to my sister Kitty – she’s in LA – it feels as though we live in two different countries.’

  ‘What does your sister do?’ he asked her. He hadn’t heard her speak about her family before. He’d assumed they were all living in London.

  ‘Kitty? She’s a film producer. She’s not my only sister, though. I have two more.’

  ‘There are four of you? Do you have any brothers?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Unfortunately for my dad. He was always surrounded by women.’

  ‘What a hardship.’ He winked at her, and she laughed. He liked that a lot.

  ‘And you’re an only child, right?’ she asked him.

  ‘Yep. Just me.’ But he really didn’t want to talk about that. ‘What do your other sisters do?’

  They’d reached the entrance. There was a glass booth inside the door. Ryan slid the entrance fee across, and the man passed him two wristbands. ‘First drink is free. After that you have to pay. If you want tuition, speak to Louisa behind the bar. The professionals are on now. Public dancing starts at nine.’

  Ryan took the wristbands, fastening his around his right arm. He went to pass the second one to Juliet, but she held her arm out, instead. He circled the yellow plastic around her wrist, trying not to think about the way her skin had felt that day he’d kissed it.

  They were friends. He could do this.

  ‘Lucy’s my eldest sister,’ Juliet said, carrying on their conversation from outside the club. ‘She’s a lawyer. And then Cesca is the next one. She writes plays, but she’s also writing a screenplay at the moment. She’s just got engaged to her movie-star boyfriend.’

  ‘A movie star?’ Ryan tried not to look amused. ‘Have I heard of him?’

  ‘You might have. His name’s Sam Carlton, he’s in this franchise called Summer Breeze. I don’t think it’s really aimed at your demographic, though, unless you’re into screaming whenever he comes on screen.’

  ‘I’m guessing it’s not a horror franchise.’ He raised his eyebrows up.

  Juliet grinned. ‘Not unless you’ve got a phobia about surfing. Or seeing your future brother-in-law half-naked in every scene, which, by the way, I think I’m developing. Anyway, you can see for yourself soon. Sam has some meetings in Washington, so they’re going to come over for a visit while they’re this side of the country.’

  At the end of the hallway, there were black lacquered double doors that led into the club itself. Ryan reached out, placing his hand on the handle, feeling the rhythm of the bass vibrate against the metal.

  ‘You ready, London?’ he asked, looking over at her.

  She smiled, waiting for him to push it open. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  ‘Then let’s go dance.’

  The club might have looked nondescript from the outside, but as soon as they walked in through the black lacquer doors, the atmosphere was palpable. The music was loud, the bass pumping through speakers on the wall, and there was already a crowd of people inside. Some were leaning on the long bar that ran the length of the room, sipping multicoloured cocktails stuffed with fruits. Others had already hit the dance floor. She watched as they shimmied and spun around the room, moving apart and then back together in synchronised moves.

  It was fast, fun and dynamic.

  ‘Can you dance like that?’ she asked Ryan.

  ‘Kind of. That’s the salsa. It’s full of energy. It’s a little bit more extroverted than the tango. All about showing off and looking the best.’ He gestured towards the bar. ‘Shall we get our free drinks? I’ve got a feeling we might need them.’

  She nodded, still interested in his description. She could waltz with the best of them, but she’d never danced Latin. ‘So what’s the tango about?’

  ‘It’s more intimate. You hold your partner close, you feel the music. It’s a dance of seduction.’

  ‘Oh.’ She felt herself heat up. ‘Will we dance the tango tonight?’

  He laughed. ‘No need to look so alarmed. It’s all salsa until midnight. They play the tango music after that. But we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.’

  ‘What can I get you?’ the barman asked. ‘First drink is on the house.’

  ‘What would you like?’ Ryan turned to ask her.

  She opened her mouth to ask for a glass of wine, but then hesitated. ‘Um, what are those?’ she asked, pointing over at the fruit-filled cocktails.

  ‘Mango mojitos. They’re good.’

  ‘I’ll have one of those then.’

  ‘And I’ll have a water.’ Ryan raised his eyebrows at her. ‘The perks of driving.’

  ‘At least you’ll dance with a clear head,’ Juliet said.

  They took their drinks over to a table in the corner, both sliding into the booth on the same side so they could look out at the dance floor. She sipped at her cocktail – sweet, yet remarkably delicious – and watched the professionals as they moved across the boards.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea to put the best dancers on first,’ Juliet said, taking another sip of her drink. ‘Nobody can follow that without making themselves look like an idiot.’

  Ryan laughed. ‘The aim is to show us all how to do it. Don’t worry, once they leave the dance floor, we’ll all be stumbling around.’

  ‘Not you,’ she teased. ‘You’re almost a professional too, right? Mr “Dance in Buenos Aires until Dawn”.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re never going to let me live that down are you?’

  ‘Those hips don’t lie.’ She winked at him. She felt so light in here, so at ease with herself. She wasn’t sure if it was the club or Ryan having that effect on her.

  He really was attractive. Wearing a pair of dark blue trousers and a white shirt, open at the collar, he was getting a lot of looks from women both on the dance floor and off. It was all she
could do not to put a proprietary hand on his arm and warn them all off.

  At nine, the professionals cleared the dance floor, and it was empty for a moment, as people hesitated to step on board. Juliet finished the last of her cocktail – the alcohol already making her feel mellow – and watched as the first tentative dancers started to move to the beat. In the corner, one of the professionals was coaching a couple – a paid lesson, Juliet guessed, remembering what the man at the ticket booth had said.

  ‘Do you want a lesson?’ Ryan asked. He must have followed her stare.

  ‘No. I reckon I can pick it up myself. With you teaching me.’

  ‘Okay then.’ He stood up. ‘Shall we dance?’ He offered her his hand. Sliding out of the booth, she took it, and let him lead her to the dance floor. When they reached it, he took her other hand too, and took a step back, leaving a gap between them.

  ‘So what do I do?’ she asked him, feeling the warmth of his hands against hers. She had to shout for him to hear her over the beat.

  ‘Let’s start with an easy step,’ he replied, his voice as loud as hers. ‘If you can do the waltz, you can do this.’ He looked down at their feet. ‘Think of it as walking. Except when I walk forward, you go back and vice versa. On the first beat I’ll step forward, on the second I’ll rock back, on the third I’ll bring my feet together and on the fourth I’ll pause. Then we’ll do it all over again but in the opposite direction.’

  ‘Okay.’ Juliet nodded, frowning with concentration. ‘Forward, together, back. I can do that.’

  ‘Let’s go.’ He slid one hand around her back, and stepped towards her, as she stepped back. Then they were back together and she was the one stepping forwards, rocking towards him as he rocked back.

  A few more tries and she’d got the hang of it, able to move her feet in some kind of rhythm, matching the beat that echoed through the room. Ryan led her gently, his hips swaying as he stepped back and forth. Compared to him she was as stiff as a board.

  ‘Okay, now let’s try a turn.’ He pulled his hand from her back, keeping his other clasped around hers, and lifted it up and over her head. Juliet tried to turn, stumbling over her shoe, almost falling to the floor before he caught her and brought her up.

  ‘Oh my God, I’m an idiot.’ She laughed, shaking her hair back behind her shoulders. ‘I must be the only one here tripping over my own feet.’

  ‘You’re doing great. You’re an easy teach. You pick it up fast.’ He took her hand back in his. ‘Let’s try it again.’ This time she managed to turn without falling over, ending back in position, facing him, before they moved forward and back again. Within ten minutes she’d mastered the turn, the cross-body lead and the chaîné. And Ryan was leading her around the dance floor, his hand firm against her shoulder as he moved her right and then left, his feet fast and rhythmic as he kept to the beat.

  And they were dancing, really dancing, not just swaying this way and that. Instead she was being led forward and backwards, around and back again, her hair flowing out behind her and her skirt fanning out as she spun. With each song that came on she gained more confidence, grinning at Ryan as their bodies moved together.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun. Or the last time she’d laughed so much. Every time she looked at Ryan he was smiling at her – enjoying at much as she was – letting the music take over and wash all their worries away.

  They only stopped once – to grab a glass of water each – and then were back on the dance floor again. The time passed in a blink of an eye. Before they knew it, it was midnight and the salsa was over, and the dance floor was clearing once again.

  ‘You ready to go home?’ he asked her. He didn’t sound that enthusiastic about it. She wasn’t either. In spite of the fact her muscles were aching and her body was glowing with sweat, she could have danced all night.

  ‘Can we sit down for a minute?’ she asked him. ‘Just to catch my breath?’

  ‘Sure. You want another drink?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Water or mojito?’

  She smiled wickedly at him, feeling like a rebel. ‘A mojito, please.’

  By the time he came back with the drinks the tango had started. The midnight changeover had seen a lot of people leave and there were a lot less couples on the dance floor. Juliet marvelled at how different this dance was to the salsa. The music was slower, the beat more deliberate, and the dancing was much more seductive. She watched the couple closest to them, swallowing as the man led his partner around, his hands firm yet sensual on her body, his chest touching hers.

  She looked up at Ryan. ‘Can you dance like that?’ she asked him. She tried to imagine him holding a woman that way and moving her across the floor. A flame of jealousy licked at her.

  ‘Yeah. I can dance the Argentine tango.’ He took a mouthful of water. He sat down next to her, being careful to leave an inch between them. And yet she had the strangest urge to close the gap, to feel the warmth of his thigh against hers.

  ‘Is it hard to learn?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s a bit harder than the salsa. Though they say that if you can walk you can tango. It all depends on who’s leading I guess.’

  She took another sip of her mojito. ‘I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to learn another dance. But it looks amazing.’

  ‘You could try it once,’ he suggested. ‘The Argentine tango is based on improvisation, so you don’t have to learn the footwork. You just follow where I lead.’

  Pulling her lip between her teeth, she looked at him for a moment, then nodded, not taking her eyes off his. The sensible part of her told her to go home, to go to bed, to sleep off the alcohol. To end the night now, when everything was just fine and dandy.

  But she didn’t want to. It was as if another Juliet had woken up from a long slumber, and was stretching her arms and getting ready to play. She didn’t want the night to end – not yet. She wanted one last dance. And she wanted to dance the tango with Ryan.

  ‘Okay. Let’s do it,’ she said, her gaze still locked with his. ‘Let’s dance the tango.’

  Dancing with Juliet felt like some kind of exquisite torture. It had been bad enough when they were dancing the salsa, but at least the gap between them had given him some breathing space. Now, as the slow, sensual beat of the music enveloped them, it felt like a labour of Hercules.

  He took a deep breath in. How many times had he danced the tango? He could pretend he was back in Buenos Aires, dancing with one of the locals, enjoying themselves without worrying about anything else.

  ‘Okay. We’re gonna need to get a bit closer for this one,’ he told her, wrapping his hand around hers. Instead of placing his hand beneath her shoulder blade, he slid it down to the small of her back, stepping towards her until their chests were touching.

  She looked up at him through those vibrant eyes as he slowly began to move his hips to the beat. Then she moved hers too, her body still pressed against his, her lips falling open as she took a breath in.

  He’d heard people call tango ‘a vertical expression of horizontal desire’, and right now nothing seemed more apt. He could feel her breasts pressing into him, could smell the sweet fruit on her breath, could hear the pounding of his heart as it tried to match the music.

  Gritting his teeth together, he stepped forward, pushing with his hand until she mirrored his move. Then he was sliding her across the dance floor, his palm still pressed against the small of her back, the fingers of his other hand entwined with hers.

  As they reached the centre of the dance floor he dipped her back, watching as her spine arched, and her hair cascaded down, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. When he lifted her up her eyes were wide, her flushed face matching his own excitement.

  Christ, he wanted her. Wanted to kiss her like she’d never been kissed before. It was taking every sliver of self-control he had to stop himself from doing it.

  As soon as the song finished, he let her go and took a step back,
trying to regain his composure.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked him. He couldn’t tell from her expression if she was feeling the same way as he was.

  It didn’t matter anyway. They were just friends.

  ‘Yeah. We should probably go now. It’s late.’ His voice was thick with grit.

  She smiled at him, as if unaware of the effect she was having. ‘But the night is young. And the children are away. We can dance until dawn, remember?’

  He wanted to laugh at how easy she made it sound. Right now he wasn’t sure he could make it another ten minutes. His whole body ached for her. ‘I’m beat,’ he said, even though he’d never felt so wide awake. ‘My bed is calling me.’

  She slid her hand back into his. The sudden contact shocked him. They’d somehow changed places; she’d become the laid back relaxed one, and he was on high alert. ‘Okay, party pooper. I’d hate to steal away your beauty sleep. Goodness knows you need it.’ She raised her eyebrows at him, her lips still curved up in that sweet, sexy smile.

  Even when they were sitting in the cab of his truck, he could still feel the atmosphere vibrating between them. He could smell her perfume, enticing its way into his senses, tempting him like he’d never been tempted before.

  Frowning, he switched the ignition on and held firmly onto the wheel, sliding the truck into reverse. As he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Ten minutes, that was all it would take to get them home.

  He could make it couldn’t he?

  ‘So, photography, sailing, dancing … is there anything you’re not good at?’ Juliet asked. The smile in her voice hit him like a sledgehammer.

  He kept his eyes firmly on the road. ‘I only show you the stuff I’m good at. Who wants to admit they’re bad at something?’

  ‘Come on. You don’t strike me as the type to brag. There must be something you’re bad at.’ She was teasing him again.