by Elle Linder
“Isn’t he cute?” Ann said as she slid back into the booth.
“Meh, he’s okay,” Tessa replied, unimpressed. “You know Brooke never declines an invite to dance. Cute isn’t a prerequisite.”
Marie chewed on her lower lip, taking it all in. “I’ll be back.” She pointed to the bathroom.
“I’ll go with you,” Ann said.
“I’ll guard the drinks.” Tessa laughed as she lifted her sangria to her lips.
“Well, you didn’t seem impressed by Brooke’s dance partner,” Ann said as they approached the ladies’ room.
“Everybody is different. She’s such a pretty girl, and he’s average-looking, I guess. Not my type. The beer belly is a turnoff.” She preferred an athletic, muscular physique. Craig had worked out hardcore while playing football, and he never let himself go after becoming a husband and father. Then again, he also preferred a fit woman, but Marie struggled to stay in shape. Between being a wife, mother, and working, it was a challenge to hit the gym. She often wondered if her softer body was part of the reason he cheated on her with such a young, toned woman. After the divorce, she had managed to squeeze in a few workouts during the week. She liked her body mostly—when it was only her seeing it. But her boobs were a different story. Nothing would make her happier than getting a breast lift and her stretch marks erased.
“Oh, come on, you can’t be so picky straight out the gate. If this is your attitude, you will never accept a man’s invite to dance,” Ann said, interrupting her thoughts.
“I told you, I don’t plan to dance.”
“You will dance with the first man that asks you,” Ann said as they entered the busy ladies’ lounge.
“Ha! Are you bossing me around again?”
“Nope, I’m making sure you have an awesome night.”
“Well, I’m not making any promises, but I have one requirement—Latino.”
Ann looked at her, surprised. “Latino? That’s your requirement? A Latino man?”
Marie didn’t respond as she walked into the bathroom stall. She didn’t know what had possessed her to say a Latino man was her requirement. Maybe her subconscious spoke for her? After the way Craig dominated and controlled every area of her life, why would she risk a repeat with another white guy? No, a Latino man would understand and appreciate their culture. He’d be like her.
Two bubbly women walked out of the stalls while Marie washed her hands. She couldn’t help but stare. Both women sparkled with vitality. They were young, attractive twenty-somethings with firm bodies and perky breasts. She glanced at herself in the mirror and glowered.
Ann followed behind them, unfazed, but Marie envied their youth and apparent freedom. Such liberties she never experienced in her twenties. The women talked and laughed without a care in the world. Did they know how lucky they were?
“I heard Parker is coming tonight,” the cute blonde said to her friend. She was reapplying lipstick that matched her taut scarlet dress perfectly. What a dress it was—it showed every curve of her body and stopped mid-thigh.
“I doubt it. Isn’t he filming right now?” the sassy redhead said, scrunching her natural curls. “Did you see last week’s episode?” She fanned herself.
Marie listened to the women, and whoever this Parker was, they seemed to like him. Ann jerked her chin for Marie to follow her out. She complied, thrilled to escape the torture of the young duo.
On their way back to the booth, an average-looking Latino stopped Marie and asked her to dance.
“No, thank you. I’m here with friends,” she answered.
“Oh, it’ll be fine.” Ann took her clutch and nudged her along.
Marie froze as the man took her hand, leading her to the dance floor with a cocky swagger that was not off-putting. However, her nerves didn’t care if he was a stranger or her favorite uncle Louie who had taught her to dance the cumbia. At this very moment, she wanted to sit her ass down and make like a mannequin until she could resume her normal, boring and lonely life. Get a grip, Marie, she thought. It’s just a dance.
Right away, Marie located Brooke in the crowd. The elation on Brooke’s face seeing her forced a sheepish grin out of Marie. The music encircled her, and in an instant, her worries dissipated. “Adrenalina,” an up-tempo song with a thumping beat by Wisin distracted her. She had never heard the song before but recognized Jennifer Lopez and Ricky Martin’s voices. I need to brush up on my Spanish.
Lexi sat engrossed in Jackson’s favorite TV show, Pierce. Unlike her mom who wasn’t interested in what Jackson watched just as long as it was appropriate, Lexi used the show to bond with him. “So, this professor, how did he get his special powers?” she asked him.
“Stung by an eel in Asia, snorkeling. The eel was radioactive.” Jackson grinned, bobbing his eyebrows up and down. “He’s the coolest superhero ever. And he never kills any of the bad guys. His powers turn them good.”
“Wow, I can see why you think he’s awesome. He’s not bad-looking either.” She nudged him when he made a gagging face. They both laughed, then stopped when Darth Vader’s theme song sounded on Jackson’s phone. “Who’s calling?” Lexi asked.
“Dad.” Jackson frowned.
“‘The Imperial March’ is Dad’s ringtone?”
Jackson nodded as he answered the phone. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Jackson. How’ve you been?” His dad asked as if he hadn’t just canceled his weekend with him to take a trip to Vegas with his girlfriend.
“Fine.”
“I want you to spend the night tomorrow, and we’ll have dinner with Sasha. What do you say?”
“Um, I don’t know. I have Ricky’s birthday party tomorrow night at the bowling alley. It’s a sleepover,” Jackson said.
“Who’s Ricky?”
“My best friend,” Jackson snapped with a scowl on his face.
“Yeah well, there will be other birthdays. It’s my weekend, and I want you tomorrow. Go ask your mom.”
“She’s not here.”
“It’s after nine, where is she?”
“Out with the girls. Lexi’s here,” Jackson said.
“Put her on the phone.”
Jackson turned toward Lexi and pushed the phone at her. “Here.”
“Hell-o.”
“Hey Lexi, where’s your mother?” he asked abruptly.
“Geez…I’m great, how are you, Dad?” She heard him huff. “Never mind. She’s with Ann and the girls. They went out to a club. Why?”
“A club? She doesn’t go to clubs.” He scoffed. “I’m calling about Jackson. I want him tomorrow night. I would’ve emailed, but I thought it better to call since it was last minute,” Craig explained.
“Well, she’s not here,” Lexi repeated.
“Call and ask her, then text me. I’m sure she’ll say yes. It’s stupid I have to ask to see my son,” he snapped.
“Should’ve thought about that before you cheated,” she said under her breath.
“What did you say?”
“I’ll call her and let you know what she says.”
“Tell her not to be out late. A woman her age has no business being at a club.”
“Wow, that’s insulting. Did you mean to say that?”
“Watch yourself,” he returned.
“I could say the same to you. I’ll text you her answer. Bye.” And with that Lexi ended the call. “Grrr, he’s rude!” Jackson faced forward, eyes on the TV. “Hey, you okay?”
“Now I can’t go to Ricky’s birthday party,” he said, deflated.
“Aww, maybe Mom will say no since Dad had canceled originally.”
“She won’t, she never does. I thought he was going to be in Vegas all weekend.” He huffed.
“It is strange that he’ll be back and wants to see you.”
The rush of adrenaline Marie had coursing through her body while she danced overpowered her thoughts. The song was a perfect introduction to living. The Latino dancing before her wasn’t bad-looking. And familial. He had
coarse, wavy black hair, slicked back, dark eyes that could pass for black marbles, and he wasn’t much taller than her. A tattoo of the Virgin Mary on his forearm stared back at her—a little unnerving. Her eyes traveled up to his head, and a broad grin stretched across his face. She blushed and looked away.
The salsa moves Uncle Louie had taught her returned by the end of the first song, just like riding a bike. Actually, being Latino didn’t mean anything; plenty of people in her family couldn’t dance. However, the dancing gods had blessed her, and to her surprise, her partner could hold his own.
Marie didn’t see celebrity Parker Nichols off to the side of the dance floor, doing his best to not draw attention to himself. Beside him stood his manager, Victor Medina, and close friend Dave Sumner. In the sea of dark, gyrating silhouettes, Marie stood out in her white and magenta dress. She had more than relaxed on the dance floor with Brooke and the Latino. Hips in a full-blown shake, her arms swayed above her head as she spun around in a tight circle in front of her partner. Her long, dark hair flowed around her shining face.
Parker eyed Marie working the floor around her partner. He couldn’t remember if there was ever a time someone had mesmerized him. It was her carefree vibe…and that gorgeous body. Her tan arms moved with ease to the beat of the music; her shapely hips shifted from side to side, showing their experience. Parker imagined her lovely, provocative moves against him, but he didn’t want to imagine. He wanted to experience. The sight of her sent his heart-rate skyrocketing with each shake and shimmy she performed. Then his eyes moved to the man dancing with her. Who was he?
“Sir, your table is ready,” a star-struck waitress announced. He nodded, taking his eyes off Marie, and followed the waitress to his table. The gentlemen sat down and placed their drink orders—Patrón for Victor, Hennessy for Parker and Dave.
“Hey man, who’s caught your eye?” Dave asked, jerking his chin toward the dance floor.
“Nobody. I’m just checking everything out,” Parker said.
“Yeah right. You have that look you get when you’re interested.” Dave smirked, though his teasing did not affect Parker.
When the gentlemen had sat down in the half-moon booth, Parker stayed on the end, in case he needed to exit the club quickly. The waitress returned with their drinks and a seductive smile for Parker. “Thank you,” he said, ignoring the flirting looks from the waitress. He turned his gaze back to Marie, eating up her dance moves—and her.
When the song ended, Parker watched as she grabbed the cute brunette’s hand and pulled her off the floor, leaving both men standing there. He observed Marie with great interest and was elated to see her booth across from his, and that her dance partner did not join her.
Chapter 4
Just A Dance
Oh my gosh, that was great!” Marie announced, taking her seat.
“I told you,” Ann said with a roll of her eyes. “Now drink your margarita before it gets watered down.”
“Yes, I’m parched.” Marie took a large gulp and the powerful punch of tequila hit her. “Whoa, that was a little much.” She checked her phone and saw she had a missed call from Lexi. “Oh crap, Lexi called. I’ll be right back.” Marie went to the lobby, where it was quieter and hovered in a corner to return the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Lexi, is everything okay? I freaked when I saw your missed call.”
“Mom, it’s fine. Dad called asking to have Jackson tomorrow night, but Jackson said he had Ricky’s party. So, Dad wanted me to call you. Can he have Jackson?”
“Um, if Jackson wants to, it’s fine with me. But he was excited about Ricky’s birthday. Why is he coming back a day early from Vegas? Ugh, it’s so like him to flip-flop. I don’t know what to do.”
The irritation in Marie’s voice was loud and clear. Who could blame her? Lexi’s call had interrupted her evening out—her first evening out since the divorce. But it was typical Craig being controlling, having to know right now. Especially after Lexi told him Marie was out for the evening with the girls; that was Lexi’s first mistake. Her second mistake was calling him rude.
Marie knew Lexi had her own irritation with her dad. The strain on their father-daughter relationship had begun ten years earlier, once Lexi was old enough to understand his controlling, manipulative treatment of her mom. Marie had tried to shield Lexi as much as possible from the hurtful, ugly words Craig would say, but she couldn’t. Time and time again, Lexi was a witness to her mom’s tears, and it broke Marie’s heart. When Craig left their home for good, Marie saw the enormous relief Lexi felt. Even so, Craig still controlled Marie, and Lexi had no way of helping her mother.
“Okay, Mom, I’ll handle it, no worries. Are you having fun? You kinda sound relaxed. I can hear the music…you’re dancing, right?” Lexi prodded.
“I am relaxed. And yes, I’ve danced to two songs.”
“Well the night is still young, so I expect another dozen dances from you, missy,” Lexi teased.
“You’re an awesome daughter. Have a good night.”
“You too, Mom. Bye.”
Marie ended the call and paced, gripping her phone tightly. She couldn’t believe Craig called Jackson after canceling his weekend with him. He was the world’s biggest jerk, in her book. She took a deep breath and did a little shake to release her frustration. More than ever, she wanted to forget about her boring life and her ex. The call fueled her determination to have a good time with her girls.
When Parker saw the woman walk to the front of the club with her phone in hand, he assumed she’d be back, but his curiosity got the better of him. He excused himself from the table and followed her. He stopped several feet back to observe the delicious dress that hugged her curves just right. Her tan skin stood out against the white of her dress, begging to be touched by him. There was no question he found her attractive, and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet…but he planned to.
Parker had watched the expression on her face change throughout the call—worried, then smiling, then frustrated with her hands balled up, then smiling again. The sight of her was magnificent, and more than anything, Parker wanted to dance with her.
As she walked toward him, he stepped in front of her. Their eyes locked and an unfamiliar surge move between them as her face flushed.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Would you like to dance?” She stared up at him, stunned. “I watched you dancing with the other guy. Your moves are pretty great. What do you say?” Just inches away from her, he could smell the soft scent of her intoxicating perfume, her eyes darting around with a look of uncertainty.
“Sure.”
Parker nodded with a slight raise of his brows, then put his hand on the small of her back, escorting her to the dance floor.
Marie stiffened at the light touch of his hand as if hot coals burned through the fabric of her dress. The sensations put her on alert, instantly hyper-aware of his touch. She avoided looking in the direction of her table. The girls would for sure see the anxiety on her face and would likely give her crap about it.
This guy was gorgeous, in his black slacks and white button-down shirt that enhanced his muscular build and trim waist. She guessed he was several years younger than her, judging by his dirty-blonde hair that looked to be styled by a top-rated stylist—one of those Hollywood stylists. Then she remembered her Latino requirement; Latino he was not. However, this gringo had slate-blue eyes that were calm and safe, not at all like Craig’s hard stare. Why on earth did he ask me to dance? No matter, it’s just a dance, she told herself. Just one dance.
Marie turned to face him, his intense eyes consumed her with their intrigue and desire. A tremble radiated through her body; she needed to dance to get her mind off him. The song, “Me Enamoré” by Shakira, did the job. It was a sexy song she could get lost in as she danced with her handsome partner. All she had to do was pretend she was dancing in her kitchen, wiping down the counters and loading the dishwasher. It’s just one dance.
Ent
hralled, Parker couldn’t get enough of this dancing beauty. She made little eye contact with him, but when she did, her dark, piercing eyes stirred him up. All he wanted was to pull her close and feel her curvy body against him. When she whirled around and whipped her hair back, her perfume about knocked him off his feet. Then a flash from behind her caught his eye; a woman had her phone out taking pictures of him. It was crappy timing. He wanted to dance and be normal, not pose for selfies with his encroaching fans.
Just as the song neared the end, the Latino returned and cut in. “Can I have the next dance?” he asked Parker’s partner.
“Sure.” She smiled. “Thanks for the dance,” she said to Parker as she turned to dance with the other man.
Deflated, Parker walked back to his table with a few women following him. He took a large gulp of his drink, then proceeded to take selfies with the women, but his gaze remained on Marie.
“Nice move on the free publicity,” Victor praised. “You always surprise me with what you know how to do.” Parker sighed with a slight shake of his head; his manager never quite understood him.
“She has you bent out of shape,” Dave said, jerking his chin toward the woman who captured Parker’s attention.
“Yeah.”
“Did you get her name?”
“No. We didn’t talk much. Damn, she’s beautiful.” He finished his drink, keeping his eyes on her.
“You let the dude cut in and steal her away. What’s up with that? You never back off,” Dave said.
“Because she wanted to dance with him.” He shrugged.
Parker watched Marie through two more songs before she returned to her table. He called over the waitress. In a whisper, Parker requested an order of rounds for her and her party. By this time, he had already taken a dozen photos with fans.
