Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2)

by Cameron, DeAnna

  “Oh, c’mon, Taz,” Gina said, picking up speed when they reached Coast Highway. “I know you’ve got some kind of bromance going with Garrett. I’m sure you can get him to give you one more ticket.”

  He rubbed his eyes. She hadn’t even been here an hour, and they were right back to their old patterns. Her bossing him around, and him taking it. Unless he put a stop to it. “No, Gina,” he said, his fingertips gripping into the leather armrest. “I’m not begging for another pass for you. If you want to go so badly, you’ll have to find your own way.”

  “I see,” Gina said in the flat, cool tone that meant she was not giving up. Not yet. But she didn’t say anything until she pulled up to the valet stand in front of the restaurant, and then it was only to the young man who took her keys.

  | 18

  Melanie walked with Taz as his sister led the way to La Vista’s entrance. But if Melanie thought the drama was over for the evening, she was sorely mistaken.

  The first place the hostess put them was at a table along the kitchen wall. If you didn’t mind looking past a few more tables, it had a nice view of the Pacific and the restaurant’s neatly tended rose garden.

  That wasn’t good enough for Gina Roman. The woman pointed to an empty one beside a window.

  “I prefer that one,” she said.

  The hostess—impossibly tall, impossibly thin, and impossibly tan—smiled sweetly. “That one is reserved.”

  “This one is fine,” Taz whispered through clenched teeth. He had already shaken off his jacket and was placing it across the back of his chair.

  “No,” Gina shot back. “It’s not fine. Why should we have to sit hidden in the corner when there is a perfectly good table right there that isn’t being used?”

  The hostess’s perma-smile vanished.

  Melanie looked at Taz.

  Taz turned to Gina. “She told you why,” he grumbled. “It’s reserved.”

  “I just don’t understand. We’re here now. We might even be finished by the time that party arrives.” She turned a saccharine smile to the hostess. “I know. Why don’t you fetch the manager? I’m sure he can sort this out.”

  The hostess seemed only too eager to oblige. She nodded and walked away so quickly Melanie thought she might break into a run. Not that she blamed her. She’d run too, if she could.

  “Why do you always have to make a scene?” Taz complained. “Can’t we just have a decent meal without all your drama for once?”

  “What drama, Tazarian?” his sister replied coolly. “I’m simply not going to be a doormat. But, of course, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Hey, did you see that?” Melanie pointed out the window to the surf. “I think I just saw a dolphin playing in the waves.” Honestly, it was too dark for her to see anything of the kind, but somebody had to steer this train away from the brick wall. It was the only thing that came to mind.

  “How quaint,” Gina said. “Just like a tourist. How long have you even lived in Orange County?” Gina spoke slowly, as though to a child.

  “All my life,” Melanie shot back.

  Whether that did anything to improve Gina’s opinion of her was hard to tell. It didn’t matter, because a man in an impeccable navy suit was approaching them.

  “Hello, good evening. Maria tells me you have requested a table that is unfortunately unavailable. However, we can have another, one closer to the window, ready in just a few moments. If you’d care to have a seat at the bar, I’d be delighted to offer you beverages while you wait. On the house, of course.”

  Gina turned up a wide, charming smile. “Now that is what I call service. See, Tazarian? All you have to do is ask.”

  A moment later, they were perched on stools outside, overlooking a gazebo and the long, grassy park that skirted the beachside cliffs, sipping margaritas in the candlelight and enjoying the warm night air.

  Melanie tipped back the last of her double margarita. She thought it would be enough to fill the strained silence of her dinner party, but it wasn’t quite doing the trick.

  She was almost relieved when Gina, empty glass dangling between her fingers, said in a sing-song voice, “So, about the Pandemonium. Are you absolutely sure there’s no way Garrett will shake loose another ticket? Just one?”

  “No,” Taz said flatly. “One comp ticket per performer, that’s the rule. Always has been.”

  Gina rolled her eyes. “Sure, I can see that for the regular performers, but you’re Taz Roman. He owes you a lot more than one complimentary ticket. Really, it’s the least he can do.”

  “We’re not having this discussion,” he said. “Not now, and certainly not here.”

  Melanie wasn’t sure if “here” meant the restaurant or in front of her. Either way, she wished she could shrink into a ball and roll somewhere beneath the white tablecloth.

  Gina released an exaggerated sigh and pouted. “But Taz, you know how much it means to me. I came out early especially for the ball. Isn’t there any way?” She perked up. “Wait. I know.” She turned to Melanie. “You probably don’t even want to go, right?”

  “Gina!”

  The smile dropped from Gina’s expression. “What? Why should your one and only ticket go to someone who doesn’t even want it?”

  “I do want it,” Melanie said.

  “See?” he said to Gina.

  The woman’s gaze burned into Melanie.

  Maybe Taz noticed, because he added, “If you’ll drop it, I’ll talk to Garrett. We’ve got a meeting tomorrow anyway. I just don’t want to hear anything else about that stupid party tonight.”

  “Thank you, Tazarian,” Gina chirped. “I knew I could count on you.”

  He disappeared with a grumble behind his menu.

  Melanie fidgeted with the corner of hers. Gina was watching her like a hungry cat.

  “So,” Melanie said, trying not to feel like a helpless mouse, “Taz says you’ve been living in Manhattan for a few years now. How do you like it?”

  “My husband’s position requires us to live there. I do what I can to make it tolerable.”

  Taz muttered something beneath his breath. Gina ignored it, so Melanie did, too.

  “You must miss the Southern California weather. It’s hard to beat this, right?” She motioned to the window and the moonlight twinkling on the water.

  Gina dabbed her straw into the new, slushy margarita a server set in front of her. “The scenery? Not very creative when it comes to conversation, are you? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Taz never did go for brainy types.”

  “Excuse me?” Melanie said, sure the woman could not have meant that to be as rude as it sounded.

  The sharp words seemed to have no effect on Gina. “I have to say,” she said, “I was rather expecting someone…” She leaned to the side to take in the rose and hibiscus tattoo that covered much of Melanie’s left arm and the spray of cherry blossoms that climbed her calf. “A little different.”

  Melanie stiffened and kept the words she was thinking on lockdown. This woman was supposed to dislike her. Irritating as it was, this was working out exactly as it should. She breathed deeply and recalibrated the rage simmering inside her.

  “I see you’re admiring my tattoos.” She straightened her leg and tugged up her black skirt to reveal more of the cherry blossoms climbing her thigh. “Do you have any? I love them. My ex-boyfriend is a tattoo artist. He gave me this one. He also did the cherry blossoms on my leg. I can’t show you the whole thing, though.” She looked around like a conspirator and lowered her voice. “We have to keep this family-friendly, right?” She laughed like she thought she was the funniest person alive.

  Gina wasn’t laughing. She actually sputtered a bit of her margarita. “I don’t have any tattoos. Do I look like the…”

  Taz coughed into his hand and leveled a stare at Gina that stopped her cold. She started again. “No, to answer your question, I have no tattoos.” She glared at Taz. “Do you?”

  He shook his head but grinn
ed. “Not yet, but I’m thinking about it. I just can’t decide what to get.”

  Melanie smiled then caught herself. She had to stop acting like a goofy schoolgirl. And she sure as hell shouldn’t be feeling all tingly inside when he looked at her.

  Luckily, Taz didn’t seem to pick up on any of it. Before Gina could question him further, a waiter approached. “Your table is ready. If you’ll follow me.”

  On the way, Melanie spied the hostess at her station, shaking her head and looking anywhere but Gina’s direction.

  Don’t blame you, sister. I’d steer clear of us, too.

  By the time they reached the table, Gina had finished her margarita and handed it to the waiter. “I’ll take another, thank you.”

  Gina spent most of the meal complaining about the flight, the hassle of searching for a driving service, and then having to resort to a vehicle rental. Melanie half-listened and focused mostly on enjoying her halibut.

  When they were taking their last bites, Gina pounced again.

  “So how long have you lived in my house?” Gina said between nibbles of her papaya and avocado salad.

  Uh-oh. Melanie turned to Taz. “Gosh, it seems like no time at all. How long has it been, sweetheart?”

  She nearly stumbled on the word. He didn’t flinch.

  “Three months?” he said between bites of his wild-duck quesadilla. “No, wait. It has to be longer than that. Remember, it was just after the holidays.”

  Gina raised her eyebrows. “That long? In all that time, you never thought to share the news?”

  He shrugged. “You’re so busy with your dinner parties and weekends in Connecticut. I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

  “Not interested in my baby brother’s life? What kind of shrew do you think I am?”

  Melanie was silently forming her own, curt answer to that question when Gina continued.

  “But what am I doing?” Gina added. “We shouldn’t be arguing. We should be celebrating.” She lifted her margarita glass and waited patiently for them to clink their glasses with hers. “To the two of you,” she said. “You are very lucky, Tazarian, to have found someone again.”

  Melanie perked. “Again?” She knew she shouldn’t have said it, she shouldn’t have said anything, but she couldn’t help it. When did Taz the Romancer ever have a “someone”?

  Taz’s jaw tensed, and he stared out the window.

  “It’s been a while,” Gina said, jumping in. “Tamara was a dancer, just like you.” Her face twisted. “Well, not quite like you, but that’s how they met, isn’t it, Tazarian? It was love at first sight, if I remember correctly. At least it was for Taz. He was so smitten. Absolutely lovesick.”

  “Gina, that’s enough.” His words were low and menacing.

  His sister batted them away like fuzzy cat toys.

  “He’s just being sensitive. I’m sure he’s told you about her. They were inseparable for months. I thought for sure they were on their way to the altar. Actually, you did propose, didn’t you?”

  The thump on the table made everyone jump, including a few diners sitting around them. Gina’s laughter died.

  “I said that’s enough,” he muttered, surprisingly calm in the face of that violence.

  Luckily for Gina, maybe luckily for all of them, the waiter arrived to check on the meal.

  They all smiled and uttered some version of “fine, thank you.” When the waiter left, the topic died beneath a request for salt and refills on the water.

  After dinner, they drove back to the house in silence.

  “Those margaritas really did me in,” Gina said with an exaggerated yawn. “I think I’m going to turn in early and leave you two lovebirds alone.”

  Melanie searched Taz’s expression for some clue as to what she was supposed to do. He offered nothing. She turned to Gina. “Is there anything I can get for you? Some water, fresh towels?” She realized she was offering things she had no clue how to provide. It just seemed like the sort of thing she should do.

  “No, I can find what I need,” Gina said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

  It was the kindest the woman had been to her all night.

  When the woman disappeared up the stairs, Melanie turned to Taz. He hadn’t spoken since dinner. Whatever nerve Gina had tweaked within him was still tweaked. Melanie sidled up to him with a smile and whispered, “How’d I do?”

  He sighed. “About as well as could be expected, I guess. I’m going out.” He walked back to the front door.

  “Hey, wait,” she cried. “What am I supposed to do?”

  He opened the door and shook his head. “Whatever you want, I guess.” The door shut behind him.

  | 19

  Melanie was tucked beneath the silky, white bed covers and surrounded by piles of soft pillows, watching a Samia Gamal movie she’d brought, when she heard the Porsche pull up to the front.

  She muted the television and listened to the front door open, then close. Somewhere out there, Gina was roaming free. Melanie had run into her in the kitchen soon after Taz left. When the conversation immediately turned to how Melanie had met Taz, she feigned a headache and said she needed to lie down upstairs.

  She knew it probably bordered on rude, but under the circumstances, it wasn’t going to matter anyway.

  And the thought of having that luxurious bathroom all to herself was too much to resist. She had taken a long shower and washed her hair. She used Taz’s salon-label shampoo and conditioner instead of her own bargain brand. She donned a comfortable tank top and yoga pants and crawled into bed to watch the giant television screen hanging above his dresser.

  If she could have picked up the phone and ordered room service, it would have been the nicest hotel she’d ever stayed in. Hell, even without room service, it was the nicest anywhere she had ever stayed.

  She considered going down and making herself a hot cup of tea when her stomach growled an hour later, but the fear of running into Gina kept her in the room.

  With the gray images moving on the screen like shadows, she listened for the sound of conversation below. Nothing. Just footsteps. Coming closer. The doorknob turned, and then the dark silhouette of Taz was in the doorway.

  “Hope you don’t mind me watching television in here,” she said cautiously, watching for clues in his expression, his voice. He’d been angry when he left—was he still? Was he regretting what they’d done? She needed something to figure out where she stood in all this.

  “There’s a better TV downstairs,” he said as he went to the closet. “Why are you cooped up in here?”

  “Seemed better than the alternative.” She modestly pulled the blanket up over her tank top.

  “Which was…?” He’d grabbed some clothes from the closet and took them to the bathroom to change, but didn’t close the door completely.

  She watched him strip off his black T-shirt to reveal the rippled muscles beneath. Melanie stared. God, he had a beautiful body. Who knew beating a drum could produce that? Her cheeks burned, and she turned away.

  “Getting more third degree from your sister,” she said. “She’s very interested in our history, especially how we met.”

  “I’ll bet she is,” he said, emerging from the bathroom with a fresh white tee and a pair of flannel pants. He sat at the edge of the bed. “So, basically, you’re hiding.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m hiding.” Guilt stabbed at her. She should be doing her job, not lounging around in luxury. She could be doing more to make Gina dislike her, but there was only so much disapproval a person could take in a day. She braced for a lecture.

  “Want some company?” He cocked his head and smiled.

  “You aren’t mad?”

  He looked puzzled. “Why would I be mad? Frankly, I thought you’d beat it out of here the minute I left. I wouldn’t blame you. Gina’s a handful on a good day, but tonight”—he whistled—“she’s in rare form tonight.”

  He watched the man and woman arguing silently on the screen. “A Cigarett
e and a Glass?”

  “Yeah,” she said, surprised. “You know your Samia Gamal movies.”

  “My mom used to watch them. I still have a box full of her videotapes somewhere in the garage. The old movies are good. I haven’t seen them in years, but they aren’t bad. I like the earlier ones a little more, when she was still with that guy—” He tapped his skull trying to think of a name.

  “Farid Al Atrache?” she offered.

  “Looks kinda like Desi Arnaz?”

  “Yes! I like him, too,” Melanie exclaimed then caught herself. This was all fake. They were not dating. Not. Dating. “I mean, those movies hold up, and the dancing is great. I used to watch them just for the dance scenes, but the stories have grown on me.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said. “Mind if I join you over there?”

  She realized she was taking up the whole bed. And all the pillows. She blushed and pulled a couple pillows off her stack and shifted to the side. “I guess not. It is our bed, right?”

  He slid in beside her and positioned two pillows beneath his neck. “What’s mine is yours, sweetheart. That’s the deal until my sister leaves.”

  “Right,” she said. She hated that she liked the sound of that. All of this—and all of him. “That’s the deal,” she repeated.

  She settled back against the pillows again to watch the movie, but she could feel his eyes locked on her. She tried to ignore it, but when he didn’t stop, she turned back to him. “Why are you staring at me?”

  He smiled. “Sorry, I was just looking at your tattoo. I’ve never seen it up close. It’s so intricate. Your ex does really good work.”

  She touched the lotus and thought of Chet. Had it really been just a couple weeks since they broke up? It felt like a lifetime ago. She hadn’t thought of him in days, and she didn’t want to think of him now.

  “Thanks. It’s my newest one, so the ink is still pretty fresh. This is my first one.” She leaned over to show him her right shoulder. “I got it on my twenty-first birthday at that ink parlor that used to be next to the Newport Beach pier. It’s gone now, but I used to love that place.”