Excitement swelled in her at all the possibilities, the doors having her own dance studio opened. “I don’t know what to say…” It was too generous.
His lips found her ear, hot and sweet, making her shiver. “You’ll figure it out, Mel. I’ll help you figure it out, if you help me figure out my new job.”
She pulled back from his mouth with reluctance, her eyes wide.
“Your new job?”
“Yep. I start next week. Corporate offices of Reiner and Sons.”
“Wait, isn’t that apartment complexes or high rises or something?”
“It is. Subdivisions, too. Meet the new project manager.”
She was overwhelmed—with surprise—with happiness. “Who are you? Won’t that job make you the all evil, nothing but trouble, money?”
Drew’s eyebrow rose, but his grin was wide. “It will, a great deal more than I’m making now, too.”
“Did you take the job because Nate’s tuition’s going up? Because you don’t have to worry…”
Oops. Cat officially out of the bag.
She winced when she looked at him, waiting for the thundercloud of doom to cross his face.
Instead, he smiled, smug and confident as the first day she’d met him. “I know all about it, Mel.”
“But how? I did it anonymously through Stan’s lawyers.”
“Nate. It was easy to put two and two together after Stan told us about the substantial amount of money he gave you.”
Mel was prepared to stand her ground on this—at all costs. Her eyes narrowed, ready to do battle. “Is your pride going to keep Nate from earning the kind of education he needs because let me tell you a thing or two, McPhee. I won’t stand—”
Drew’s lips landed on hers with force, thwarting all protest as he scooped her up and kissed her, letting his tongue slide between her lips to the tune of her blissful sigh. She relaxed against him, clinging to his muscled arms.
“I took the job because it’s high time I do what I love. I love to build houses in subdivisions and buildings. Big, tall buildings. Know what else I love?”
Her fingers lodged in his hair, reveling in the silky strands. She grinned. “Chili cheeseburgers? The Giants? Elvis? The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. Don’t pretend you don’t. I saw it with my own eyes. I even saw drool at the corner of your mouth.”
“I love you, Mel Cherkasov. I was a jackass for not saying it sooner—before you left to go to L.A. If you want to take the job with Celebrity Ballroom, I’ll support whatever makes you happy, but I hope you’ll want to work out a long distance relationship. Because I do.”
Tears began to slip from her eyes. It was the last piece of the puzzle—Drew’s support—no matter what she chose to do. His thumb swiped at her tears.
She grabbed hold of his wrist and asked, “Didn’t Stan tell you?”
“There’s more? I don’t know how much more I can take, honey. I’m on confession overload.”
Stan hadn’t told him because he knew how important it was to her for Drew to trust her. A new respect for Stan blossomed in her, replacing some of the inner turmoil he’d created. “I didn’t take the job on Celebrity Ballroom.”
His eyebrow rose again. “Say again?”
Mel walked her fingers up the lapel of his tux. “I said I didn’t take the job on Celebrity Ballroom. They offered it to me, but I turned it down.”
“Because?”
“Not because of you, pal. You didn’t think I was going to come back here just for the torture of seeing you every day, did you? I did it because I’m happy at Westmeyer. I love the boys, and even if they don’t love to dance, they like me. I discovered if I’d wanted the spotlight so badly, I’d have found it through Stan. I guess, in the end, it just wasn’t as important to me as I thought it was back when I was fresh off the turnip truck.”
“So you’re staying at Westmeyer?”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me out of there. Though, I’m a little sad you won’t be there. Lunch just won’t be the same if you’re not sneaking me a Ring Ding.”
“Whaddya say I bring you a Ring Ding every day at lunch? My office is just down the road.”
Happiness settled deep in her heart, right beside contentment.
“Deal.”
“Did you hear that, everyone? I think we have a deal!” Drew yelped.
Mel’s head swiveled as bodies poured out of every available nook and cranny still unfinished in the studio. Her studio.
Nate jumped out from behind the big speaker and thumped his father’s back. “Wow, you sucked, Dad,” he said on a grin and a laugh.
“But nice try.” He gave Mel a quick hug before taking off to grab a plate for food that had suddenly appeared on a folding table in the corner of the studio.
Stan approached them, his face relaxed and happy. He slapped Drew on the shoulder with a laugh. “You are the worst dancer I’ve ever seen. Thousands of lifetimes of lessons couldn’t make you any better.”
Drew stuck out his hand in Stan’s direction and smiled wide.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, my man.”
Stan threw his head back and roared with laughter. “If you ever tell anyone you’re the product of my instruction, I’ll shoot you.”
Someone turned the music back on as Myriam and Selena gathered Mel up in a warm hug, kissing her cheeks, while Joe gave Drew the father-to-boyfriend speech.
“I take back all the horrible things I said about Stan. He’s not a crusty wiener after all,” Myriam chirped.
“What’s this about crusty wieners?” Stan asked over her shoulder.
Myriam’s face turned red. “We didn’t know you were so nice,” she sputtered.
Stan cocked an arrogant eyebrow at her when he held out his hand. “I think you can make your off-color remarks up to me. May I have this dance?”
Myriam’s eyes widened as Stan swept her away to twirl her on the dance floor while William gathered Selena in his arms and pulled her into an awkward box step.
Drew wrapped an arm around Mel’s waist and pulled her to his side. “There’s someone over there in the corner you need to talk to, honey.”
Mel’s eyes swept the room and spotted Neil in the far corner, somber, shadows under his eyes, his hands in his pockets.
She gazed up at Drew, hesitant. “Do you mind?”
Drew let his lips touch hers briefly, the promise of the night to come on them. “As long as you remember when this is done—I have plans for you. It’s been a week, and you know how I feel about waiting longer than a week.”
Bracketing his face with her hands, she shivered against him. “Be right back.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw before sifting her way across the dance floor.
Neil eyed her with hesitance, but he lifted his chin in her direction, clearly fighting to maintain his composure.
Mel held out her hand to him. “Come here often?”
He took it, clasping it in his, his palms sweaty and cold. “Not as of late, but I hope to in the very near future.”
Mel smiled a warm smile, more of that peace she’d found wending its way through her veins. “So I hear you dance. Is that true?”
Now Neil smiled, too, and rolled his hips. “I got a couple of moves.”
She rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Oh, yeah,” she challenged.
“Care to show them to me?”
He threw his arm around her waist and hurled her over his arm, bending her spine. He gave her his Celebrity Ballroom smile and cocked an eyebrow down at her. “Is that a challenge I hear in your voice?”
Mel placed her hand on his opposing shoulder like she had a thousand times before. “You bet your ass it is.”
He rolled his neck. “Well, then, it’s on,” he said, cocky and husky before lunging her body upright and taking her sailing across the floor into a Viennese waltz.
And they danced—the way they’d always done—as one.
In those moments when everything but the rhythm of the music and the swift mo
vement of their unified feet was all that mattered, Mel found forgiveness.
Neil was her best friend, and instead of blaming him for keeping Stan’s secret from her, she saw his position all these years from his eyes. He’d wanted to protect her.
It was what every best friend wanted.
When their dance ended, Neil pulled her close, their chests rising and falling in choppy breaths.
She gazed up at her best friend and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with affection. “I love you, Neil. I just want you to be happy, okay?”
He returned her smile, a smile that didn’t have any reservations.
“Me, too, Mel. Me, too.”
Mel gave him a hard shove toward Stan. “Then maybe you should go try and find some happy, huh?”
He blew her a kiss before escaping through the crowd of Drew’s family to find Stan.
Drew came up behind her, dragging her close to him. He bent down and whispered in her ear. “All’s well?”
She snuggled into him, warm, undeniably happy. “All’s well.”
“Did I tell you how amazing you looked out there with Neil?”
Mel swung around. “I don’t believe you did.”
“What kind of boyfriend am I?”
“The kind who’d better excel at covert ops. We need to get out of here pronto, Double O Seven. It has, after all, been a whole week,” she said suggestively, letting her lower body press into his.
He settled her hips against his, kissing her lips in swoon-worthy fashion. “Well, then, we’d better bust a move, huh? I’ll lead,” he said, beginning a slow sway to the music, inching his way toward the door.
When the coast was clear, they ran outside into the freezing night, the sky filled with dozens of stars. Drew pulled her around back to the parking lot where his truck waited and unlocked the passenger door, helping her inside.
Then he backed away, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know, there’s just one little thing we need to clear up before I take you back to my place and ravish you from head to toe.”
She shivered, but it wasn’t entirely from the cold. “Well, hurry it up, Dancer. It’s freezing.”
“I don’t recall you returning my declaration of love. Now how can that be, Ms. Cherkasov?”
Mel put a finger to her chin in thought. “You know, it must’ve slipped my mind.”
He shot her a cocky grin. “I can wait as long as you can.”
She wagged a finger at him. “C’mere.”
He pointed to the space between her legs. “There?”
She nodded. “Riiight there.”
He took the two steps in seconds. “Here?” he asked, slipping his arms around her back.
“Yeahhh,” she cooed. “That’s good.” So. Good.
“I await.”
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she drew his mouth to hers.
“I love you, Drew McPhee. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
His chuckle against her mouth left her tingling. “One more time. Just so I’m sure I heard right.”
Her eyes met his—confident and bright. “I. Love. You. Drew. McPhee.”
Running his knuckles over her cheek, he replied. “Well, woot to that. Let’s go home and celebrate.”
And they did.
Oh, did they ever.
Epilogue
Dear Journal,
Do note, I no longer call you my “divorce journal.” That’s because I don’t consider myself divorced anymore. Nay. In fact, I proudly wear the label “married”—and the label I wear is Mrs. Drew McPhee.
Score!
One year and five months later
“Drew, if you don’t stop now, we’ll never make the dance. I’m the teacher. I kind of have to be there.”
Drew didn’t stop. Instead, he kissed his way up her thigh and pressed his hot lips at the line of her panties. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you, Dancer?”
When his fingers moved her panties over an inch and his mouth found her core, she shuddered against him. “Nooooooooo. I really don’t want you to stop, but we’ll be…” She gasped at the touch of his tongue on her clit. “Late. We’ll be late.”
His moan against her flesh vibrated, making her leg lift higher over his shoulder. Still warm and damp from his shower, his skin stuck to hers in a delicious suction. Replacing his silken tongue with his fingers, he slid up her body.
“I can’t help it. You look so hot in that dress, I had to have a piece of that,” he joked, capturing her lips.
She clung to his shoulders, pulling him with her as she hopped up on the bathroom counter in their new home. The home Drew had designed for her and Joe.
The home, one year down the road and a Vegas wedding— Elvis-style— later, she now shared with not just her father, but Nate, Weezer, Jake, and a stray cat named Amos.
And Drew, always Drew.
Drew’s job, though more demanding than his position at Westmeyer, allowed him plenty of time to spend with his family, and he worked from home one day a week. He and Nate had continued working on the dance studio, and it was almost ready.
Which meant it was time to branch out by handing in her resignation at the end of the school year. She was sad to leave the boys, but they’d know where to find her if they wanted a good dose of Ms. Cherkasov, and she’d welcome all of their left feet with open arms.
Mel gave him her best smoldering gaze, then spread her legs wide. She wiggled her finger at him. “We’ve got all of five minutes. Make me smile, McPhee,” she teased.
His groan when she wrapped her hand around his cock and placed it at her entrance never failed to make her dizzy with lust. She tilted her hips, letting them rest at the edge of the counter when Drew drove upward into her.
Her sigh was one of completion when he filled her. He never failed to make her want to consume him. She kneaded the hard planes of his back, enjoying the ripple of them under her palm. Her legs went around his waist and her hands left his back to rest on the cool marble of the sink. Mel’s head fell back on her shoulders when her nipples tightened at the sound of their lovemaking.
Drew cupped her ass, driving into her in slick, hot thrusts, pulling her to him. Her cry was primal when release clawed its way to the surface of her desire.
She dragged him close, using the strength of her legs to keep him flush to her, burying her face in his strong soap-scented shoulder.
“Christ, woman,” he gritted, just before his muscles flexed and he climaxed, too.
She fell back on her elbows and sucked in gulps of air when she caught sight of her silk dress. “Now look what you’ve done,” she chastised lovingly, sitting up and winding her arms around his neck. “My dress will never be the same.”
Drew nipped at her neck. “I’ll buy you another dress. All I can say is you brought it on yourself. If you’d just stayed downstairs and waited in the kitchen where all good women belong, maybe baked some cookies or something, I wouldn’t have had to get you semi-naked. It’s those damn thigh highs, honey. They’re smokin’ hot.”
She kissed his jaw and giggled. “Hah! This bathroom will see more action than our kitchen ever will, and I wore them just for you, but the plan was to have you take them off me after we were done at the dance with the boys.”
Drew growled in her ear, low and husky. “I can do that, too.” He stood up. “Hey, you think you’re ready for this? Are the boys ready for this?”
“Are you questioning my teaching skills? Didn’t I teach Nate’s class to dance, only to find out Nate hates to dance? I’ve done this twice now. I’m an old pro, and Nate graduated his first year in my class just fine.”
He lifted her off the sink. “You’re a hot pro. So, you think Stan and Neil will make it? Last e-mail we got from the happy couple, they were off in Bali.”
Mel grinned. So much had changed. The road to forgiveness had gotten easier with each day that passed.
And somehow, through so much hurt, not one, but two happy couples had been produced. S
tan and Neil had begun dating a few months after that night at the dance studio, and they’d made the news of their love official just two months ago.
“I know they wouldn’t miss it, if they could help it.”
Drew placed her on the floor and made his way into their bedroom of grays and blues with every available wall space covered in family photos, the bedroom where they spent many nights making love, laughing, talking. “I’m surprised Nate’s as excited as he is,” he said, slipping into his shirt.
“Well, a little birdie, cough, Aunt Myriam, cough, told me that a certain girl, whose name is Mercedes—but you didn’t hear that from me—is going to be there. I’m sure hormones and puberty play a huge role in his desire to show off his waltzing skills.”
Drew winked lasciviously. “Aha. Damn women’ll get you every time.”
Sitting at the edge of the bed, she gazed up at her husband. His handsome frame still took her breath away. Watching him dress was one of her favorite things to do. “Sherry’s going to be there, too…”
His face hardened momentarily, then eased. “She should be. She’s his mother.”
“She’s been sober five months, that’s longer than any period in her alcoholism. Nate’s so proud.” Inspired by Nate, who’d finally made the choice to not see his mother again until she was sober, Sherry hit rock bottom.
It had been an ugly night in the emergency room for Nate and Drew, when they’d gotten a call five months ago that she’d been in a serious auto accident. With Stan’s help, and his resources, Mel had convinced Drew that Sherry could be helped—if she’d just reach out.
She’d done just that, and now she was in a sober living facility, painting again, happier, and making plans to spend more time with her son.
Stan continued to make gestures, small and large, in order to prove he needed Mel’s forgiveness—like helping talk Sherry into rehab— a facility Stan knew well from the occasional dancer’s bout with addiction.
And though she’d told him time and again, it wasn’t necessary, Drew had reminded her that this was Stan’s way of helping all the lives he’d turned upside down, sit right side up again. He was trying to earn her forgiveness, and there was something to be said for the amount of time and effort he was putting into it.
Waltz This Way (Ex-Trophy Wives Book 3) Page 32
