Still, Melanie appreciated the low maintenance and minimal effort that went into small spaces. Or maybe she’d just gotten used to them. Maybe that’s why she gravitated to the dance room. It wasn’t as grand as the rest of the house. It was simple, and it was cozy.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m in here,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not at all. No one has used it since my mom passed away.”
“Is that her?” Melanie pointed to a trio of black-and-white photos of a belly dancer, the only artwork in the room.
“That’s my grandmother,” he said. “Those pictures were taken in Cairo in 1946 or ’47. That’s Badia Masabni’s nightclub. It’s where my grandfather met my grandmother.”
Melanie gazed at the image with renewed interest. “Your grandmother danced in Badia Masabni’s company? Did she know Samia Gamal?”
He pulled back in surprise. “You know who Samia Gamal is?”
“Of course,” she said. “She’s practically my hero. I used to copy her choreography and her costumes when I first started performing. I had an exact replica made of the costume she wore in Afrita Hanem. All flowing chiffon and sequins.”
“What changed?”
“People kept thinking I was impersonating I Dream of Jeannie, so I stopped and moved on.”
He shook his head. “Not many people know about the old days. Not even many dancers.”
“Their loss,” she said. “New isn’t always better. Hey, who’s this?” She pointed to another photograph. It had worn into rust tones, like it was from the 1970s or earlier.
“That’s my mom. It was taken in New York, when she used to dance with my father’s orchestra. It was ’65, I think.”
“She’s gorgeous, too.” She recognized the high cheekbones. Taz had inherited them, and her wide, expressive eyes.
“Yeah, and she was a pretty terrific dancer. She trained a lot of the dancers who became famous in the 1970s, but she gave up dancing almost entirely when she had my sister and I. She was just starting to teach again when…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Melanie knew. The airliner crash that had taken his parents’ lives was well known in belly dance circles. It had catapulted their already considerable fame into legend.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He smiled, but she could see the pain in his eyes. “She never said she regretted giving up her career, but I know she made time to dance every day of her life. When she was here or when she was in New York. Even if she was in a hotel, she would sneak downstairs and find an empty ballroom or open conference room, and she would dance to nothing but the memory of music. I think dancing was as important to her as breathing. It was who she was.”
“She must have been a very special lady,” she said, touching his arm, trying to draw him back from the past. “If I had a room like this, I wouldn’t stop dancing either.” She stepped into the center of the room and twirled, as if that proved her point.
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s nice to see someone using the space again. It’s been a long time.”
“I can honestly say it is my pleasure.” She twirled again.
“You’re really good, you know.”
She stopped twirling. “Really?” she asked hopefully. She blushed, embarrassed. With thick sarcasm, she added, “You aren’t getting all sweet on me now, are you?”
She wanted to sink into a black hole and never come out. Why had she said that?
But now he was blushing.
“I mean your dancing,” he said. “You have a lot of promise.”
Of course he hadn’t meant her. He dated Divas. He wouldn’t be interested in her. She played it cool. “I do declare,” she said in a false Southern accent, “has Mr. Taz Roman complimented little ol’ me?”
He grinned. Whatever dark shadows had gathered in his expression were gone now. “I didn’t say there wasn’t work to do.”
She straightened. “Work? Like what kind of work?”
“Don’t get defensive,” he cajoled. “That’s why you’re here, right? To learn?”
“Yeah, but…” What was the point of arguing? Of course that’s why she was here. It was the only reason she was here. She couldn’t forget that.
“Fine. So if you’re gonna help, then what do you suggest?”
Damn. He looked so cocky now, leaning against the doorjamb with that high-and-mighty smirk.
She looked away.
“Well,” he said coolly, “the first piece of advice I’d give you is that you rush your moves. They’re good, don’t get me wrong, but they’re too fast.”
“That’s not true,” she snapped back. “I’m always on the beat.”
He cocked his head to the side. “You’re getting defensive.”
“I’m not. You’re just wrong.”
His eyes widened. “So this is you not being defensive? Fine, forget I said anything.” He raised his hands and backed into the hall.
That was it? He was giving up?
“Wait,” she said to the empty space in the doorway. “I’m sorry. Finish what you were saying.”
He leaned back into view. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. I need to slow down. What else?”
“Not exactly slow down, but don’t anticipate the music so much. It’s only when you’re dancing to recorded music. You were perfect when you danced with me at the Tent.”
“I was?” That was news to her. He hadn’t said anything about that performance. “You think I was perfect?”
“When you use recorded music,” he said, “you probably know it so well that you’re focusing on what’s coming, not what’s there. What you want to do is let the music pull you along, not the other way around. If the audience notices you anticipating the changes, they register it. Even if it’s a split second, they sense that you’re out of sync. It disrupts the flow.”
She stared at him blankly. It wasn’t as though she’d expected him to shout, “You’re the best dancer ever! Garrett will beg you to be in the Divas!” But it didn’t dampen the sting of the criticism. “Okay, I got it. Anything else?”
He scratched the evening stubble on his chin.
There was more. Great. The way his eyes roamed over her. She knew that look. It was the same one she got from strangers on the street. The one she got from her own mother after her first date with an ink gun. “It’s the tattoos, isn’t it?”
She’d been expecting this one. A few of the Divas had tattoos. Mostly belly art like swirls and vines that blended in with the costume. But no one had art on their arms and legs, like she did. Garrett might be open minded, but maybe he wasn’t that open minded. “You’re thinking I should cover them up, right?”
Taz’s expression twisted. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. It’s the way you dance. There’s too much ballet and not enough belly in your belly dance.”
She certainly wasn’t expecting that. She sneered. “There’s no ballet in my dance.”
He stepped backward again. “You’re right. It’s fine. Forget I said anything.” He turned and shoved his hands in his front pockets.
“Don’t leave. I didn’t mean that. I mean, maybe you could tell me what you mean by ‘too much ballet’?”
He turned back and hiked an eyebrow. “Your arms. They float too high. Bring them down a bit. Garrett prefers the dancers who focus on the hips, the belly, the center. He wants to see the shimmy, the drops, and the uh-uh-uh.” He accentuated the sound with three sharp shakes of his lean, denim-covered hips.
Now, there are male belly dancers. There are even some good male belly dancers, but Taz Roman was not one of them. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
He feigned a hurt look. “Hey, what’s wrong with my uh-uh-uh?”
He did it again, and she had to turn away so she wouldn’t erupt with laughter. When she’d recovered enough to speak, she said, “All right. I need to slow down and put more uh-uh-uh into the dance. I’ll make a note.�
��
The sound of the front door opening downstairs stopped her. A woman called out, “Hello, anyone home? Taz, are you home?”
His eyes widened in surprise, or was it fear?
“Who is it?” Melanie asked in a whisper.
The color disappeared from his face. “My sister.”
| 16
“Hurry!” Taz said, snapping into action. “Get your stuff out of the guest room and into my room. Throw your things in drawers or hang it up, I don’t care. Just make it look like you live here.”
Melanie froze.
“I’ll go down and stall her,” he said. “Come down as soon as you can. Go! Now!”
The panic in his eyes shocked her out of her paralysis. She didn’t say anything but did as he said. She went to the guest room, grabbed her suitcase from beside the bed, and rolled it to his room. Downstairs, she heard him greet his sister.
“Look at you!” came the woman’s high-pitched reply. “Are you surprised? I knew you would be.”
His answer was lost in a mumble.
“Where is she?”
Melanie strained to listen as she worked.
“I have to meet this mystery woman of yours.”
Oh no! The voices grew closer. Were they on the stairs? In the hall? Melanie stared at the pile of clothes she had dumped out of her suitcase onto the bed.
“Have you done anything with Daddy’s den? Oh! A music room. Very nice. What about Mommy’s dance room? Of course not. Where are you hiding her, this new lady of yours?”
“Her name is Melanie. I told you that, and I’m pretty sure she’s sleeping. We shouldn’t disturb her.”
“Don’t be such a worrywart. She won’t mind. We’re practically family, right?”
The bedroom door swung open to reveal a slender woman with smooth, porcelain skin and cascading chocolate-brown hair. She wore an ivory silk blouse with a wide, leather belt that accentuated her narrow waist and hips. The hem of a pair of cleanly tailored pants brushed the tops of her wedge sandals, and a bib of gold chains wrapped her collar. Every inch of her screamed sophistication. Very East Coast. Very New York.
As surprised as Melanie was to see her intruders, it was nothing compared to the surprise on Gina’s face when Melanie lifted herself from the bed covers and pretended to yawn.
“Oh, hello.” She squinted and rubbed imaginary sleep from her eyes. She tugged up the collar of the white velour robe she’d found hanging on the back of the bedroom door. “Taz, honey, I’m sorry. Did I oversleep?”
Taz pushed into the room. “Melanie, uh, this is Gina, my sister. She wanted to surprise us.”
“Surprise!” Gina declared with a broad smile and threw her arms out wide.
“She, uh, wanted to say hello,” Taz said.
“I would have been here hours ago, but my connecting flight was delayed in Denver.”
Melanie shot Taz a wide-eyed look. At least they’d dodged that disaster.
If Gina noticed, it didn’t show. “If it had been Chicago,” she added, “it would have been fine. But Denver? What can anyone do for five hours in Denver? Then it was impossible to find a decent car service. I had to rent something, and you know how much I hate to drive in LA.
“We’ll let you get back to your nap. Right, Gina?” He put his hands on his sister’s shoulders and steered her back to the door.
“Right,” Gina said reluctantly. “I guess we’ll see you downstairs.”
She let Taz push her back toward the hall, and Melanie faked another yawn. She caught Taz’s eye on the way out and winked. He smiled.
A few moments later, she heard a soft knock on the door before it opened. She dropped the suitcase she had stuffed down beside the bed, out of view.
“Oh, it’s you. Is the coast clear?”
Taz shut the door and shook his head in disbelief. “That was incredible.”
She posed and bowed. “Did you enjoy this evening’s performance?”
“I have never seen Gina speechless before. It was great. It was better than great. She’s really going to hate you.”
The comment should have made her happy. That was the point, right? “Happy to oblige,” she said. “It’s why I’m here. Where is she now?”
He jutted his chin toward the door. “Down in the kitchen, getting reacquainted with Spike. I think she’s pissed the dog doesn’t seem to remember her. It’s kind of hilarious.”
“You’re harsh,” Melanie said.
He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, it’s nothing close to what she dishes out. You’ll see.”
“Anyway, she won’t come back up any time soon, so I think you’re safe for now. Come down when you’re ready. Actually, she’s probably hungry from her flight and will want something to eat.”
Melanie was still comfortably full from their early dinner. “What about your soup? I’ll bet they didn’t serve anything that good on her flight.”
“She doesn’t eat leftovers, and I’m really not in the mood to put something together. I’ll just take her out.”
“Or I could make something,” Melanie offered. Wait, what? She didn’t cook. Unless you counted mac and cheese out of a box.
He shook his head. “It’s nice of you to offer, but we’re trying to make a bad impression, remember?”
“Right. Bad impression. So what should I wear?”
“Whatever you want or nothing at all. That’d suit me just fine.” He smirked.
She pulled a wad of clothing from the pile she had stuffed beneath the sheets and hurled it at him.
He grabbed it in mid-air and let the two tank tops and pair of yoga pants fall to the ground. Still in his hand was her laciest black bra. He lifted it and gave it an approving look. “Yeah, now this is what I’m talking about.” He tossed it back on the bed. “Definitely wear that.”
“Go!” She pointed to the door and gave him her sternest, most reprimanding look.
He laughed. “See you downstairs, sweetheart,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the word, and he shut the door behind him.
She dropped back against the pillows and stared at the white, coffered ceiling. What in the world had she gotten herself into?
| 17
“We’ll follow you to the restaurant,” Taz told Gina as he left the house with Melanie in tow.
Gina shook her head. “I rented an Escalade. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”
Taz stared at the white behemoth parked in the driveway. He shook his head. It was just like her to show up in a monstrosity like that.
“Couldn’t you get anything bigger?”
“Keep your sarcasm to yourself,” Gina shot back. “You know I hate that tiny toy car you drive.”
“A Porsche Carrera is hardly a toy.”
Gina twirled her finger in the air. “Fine. It’s a flashy car. I get it. Does that mean Garrett is paying you what you’re worth, or are you just driving around in what was left of Mommy and Daddy’s money?”
It didn’t take long for her to revisit that old sore spot.
“I paid for that car myself, and you know it.” It might be the only thing of value he’d been able to buy on his own, but damn it, he’d done it. The car was his and his alone. Still, the insinuation burned within him.
He looked back at Melanie, whose gaze was trained on the gray cobblestones in front of her. She was probably thanking heaven she was an only child all over again. He held back till she caught up to him. “You okay?”
Her head shot up. “Yeah, of course,” she said then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is she always like this?”
“Pretty much,” he whispered back.
At the vehicle, he opened the passenger door and held it for Melanie to get in. When he turned to let himself into the driver’s seat, Gina was already there.
“You don’t think I’m handing the keys over to you, do you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he growled and made his way around to the front passenger seat. “Let’s just have a nice dinner, all right?”
Great. Now she was recruiting Melanie to join her offensive. Just what he needed: two women on his case.
“Not really,” Melanie said. “Taz is one of the most easygoing guys I know.”
He glanced up and caught Melanie’s eye. She smiled a quick flash of a smile, like a secret just between them.
He smiled back. She certainly didn’t seem rattled by Gina. Maybe his sister had finally met her match.
He settled into his seat. If she could keep this up, this whole thing might just work. Who knows? The way she had looked all rumpled in his bed, covered in his blankets… it had been all he could do to keep his mind on the situation and off the image of her in that black, lacy bra. No. He couldn’t think about that. He had to keep his cool and keep his head, or Gina would be on to him. She’d never give him any peace.
“You aren’t angry that I got here a few days early, are you?” Gina said, guiding the Escalade out of the driveway. “But when I realized the Pandemonium Ball was this weekend, I had to come. Actually, I should be angry at you for not reminding me. You know how much I love that event. All the glitz and glamour. All those delicious costumes.”
“That’s why you’re here?” he said. “I’m sure it’s sold out by now. You should have checked before you flew out.”
The lecture didn’t faze Gina. “It’s sold out for people who don’t have connections. I have connections.”
He shifted to look at her squarely. “You have connections?”
She shrugged. “Of course I do. Well, a connection. My brother is the star drummer with the Belly Dance Divas, and I hear he’s performing. I’m sure he can get me in.”
He dropped back in the seat. “So that’s your answer? That I’ll get you in? Sorry, Gina. It’s not gonna happen. I get one comp ticket, and I’ve already given it to Melanie.”
Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) Page 7
