A Perfect Strategy

He didn’t answer immediately but looked at the crowd on the dance floor doing their best impression of John Travolta to “Stayin’ Alive.” “Not really my thing.”

Yet his toe tapped on the rung of the stool.

“I always find it amazing that you guys have perfect rhythm and timing on the ice, yet you claim not to like dancing. Me, I love it.” She wiggled in her seat.

He frowned. “That’s completely different. One is a sport. That—” he pointed to the dance floor with his glass “—isn’t.”

“True. And some people should probably stick to hockey. Bless his heart, Monty has two left feet.”

A step behind the music all the time, Chaz “Monty” Montgomery made up for his lack of skill with enthusiasm.

“He’s a goaltender,” Scotty said. As if that explained everything.

The music slowed. Couples drifted together.

Sapphie wrinkled her nose. “I never did like this song.”

“That was my ex-wife’s favorite.”

Way to go, Sapphie. “I’m sorry.”

Scotty shrugged. “Everyone has different tastes.”

They sat silently, watching the light from the disco ball send sparkles over the dancing couples.

“Honestly, I never liked this song much either.”

At his dry words, she whipped her head around to look at him. A hint of a smile played around his lips.

She was tempted to lean over and kiss them. To taste that scar. But this wasn’t the time or place for that behavior—especially from the maid of honor.

That didn’t stop her wanting to.

Willing herself to sound casual, she said, “I’d offer to give you new memories for the song, but we should pick something that won’t make us wince every time we hear it.”

“Good thinking. Plus the singer has the same name as my ex.”

“We’ll definitely choose another song, then.”

With impeccable timing, the DJ segued into the next track. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any better. She looked questioningly at Scotty, hoping this wasn’t one of his favorites.

For several seconds he appeared to be enjoying the music. Then he said solemnly, “Sorry, but we can’t have our song being about a dying woman. Too morbid.”

She grinned, relieved. “I love Bette Midler, but this song always grates on me. Perhaps because I hate movies with sad endings. Life’s hard enough.”

“For sure.” His smile faded.

Way to bring the evening down, dodo. Determined to cheer things up, she said brightly, “Next song, whatever it is, love it or hate it, we dance. Deal?”

For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. But he nodded. “Okay. Deal.”

They waited as the current song reached its climax. Then the DJ’s deliberately deep voice washed over the crowd. “Last slow song before we take up the tempo again. So grab your favorite girl or guy and smooch.”

The moment of truth. Sapphie and Scotty looked at each other.

She was surprised by how much she wanted this dance. Even a little nervous.

He held out his hand, palm up. “A deal’s a deal.”

“It certainly is.” She laid her hand in his. “Luckily, I like this song,” she said as they joined the other couples. “I’ve always liked Christopher Cross. This one’s a little corny, I know, but there’s something romantic about the lyrics. Especially given where we live.” Jeez, she was babbling like a teenager on her first date.

“I like the idea of being caught between the moon and New York City.” Scotty pulled her gently into his arms.

Without saying anything, they slipped into the old-fashioned way of slow dancing. Her right hand clasped in his left. Her left on his shoulder, while his other hand rested against the small of her back. They started with a respectable gap between them, but the number of people made them draw closer together.

At least, that was her excuse.

Her thighs were pressed against his. Solid, hard muscle. Her breasts crushed against the broad wall of his chest. The heat of his body seared her, despite the barrier of their clothing.

He brought their joined hands in and rested them against his chest. She could feel his strong, steady heartbeat beneath his tuxedo jacket.

Her left hand slipped across his shoulder to his neck, delighting in the smooth skin and corded strength. The hand at her back began to caress her, slowly moving up and down her silk dress before edging toward her hip.

Their feet barely moved as they swayed to the music.

His cheek rested against her temple. His breath stirred her hair and whispered against the sensitive skin beneath her ear. If she turned her head slightly, her lips would be pressed against his jaw. If he turned his head slightly, his lips would be pressed against hers.

She wanted his kiss very much.

Slowly, tentatively, she started to move her head. At the same moment, he began to move his. Their mouths were so close. So tantalizingly close. One slight movement and they’d meet. She lifted her gaze to his.

Oh, those serious blue eyes. She could lose herself in them. They would be her downfall tonight. How could she resist him?

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_afb6cda8-6416-5f77-a0d1-a8341d7961cd)

SCOTT WAS AS nervous as a geeky teenager dancing with the homecoming queen.

He hadn’t held a woman, other than his wife, in his arms for...hell...too many years to think about. For sure not since he was eighteen. Even before then, he’d been more interested in hockey than girls, so he was as green as a rookie when it came to women. What little he knew was as outmoded as a cassette tape in the world of music streaming.

Slow-dancing with the prettiest woman in the room... Staring into her clear blue eyes.

He angled himself slightly so that his groin wasn’t against her thighs, then shifted his hand on her back.

Even he could read the invitation in Sapphie’s expression. The way she moved their joined hands to link their fingers. How she tilted her head so her mouth was barely a breath away from his.

Sapphie wanted to kiss him.

He’d never wanted anything so much.