Dirty Secrets

Dance

I froze and looked over my shoulder.

"I wanted to dance with you at least once," Leo said, stepping forward and pressing his hand firmly on the small of my back.

Propelling me in a half circle, he steered me back to the floor before I had a chance to protest and scooped me up in his arms as the band struck up a slow, acoustic version of a Radiohead song.

The female singer's voice was ethereal, a sensual croon as Leo drew me close. Because he was so big, I felt small in his arms. I loved that about him.

God, he felt good. Too good. My stomach and everywhere below tensed into a tight coil, and I wondered again whether my body would betray me if I tried to sleep with him. Was it worth the risk?

"Remember when we last danced, on the hotel roof?" Leo whispered.

I nodded weakly. Of course I remembered. The stars, the rustle of the palm trees, how I'd clung to him, thinking I would die if he left me. Maybe part of me had died. And now I was coming alive.

My nose was a few inches from his neck. Tonight, he smelled like limes and spice with a hint of burnt sawdust, as if he spent the day in a lumberyard. It was a heady combination, and I inhaled, resisting the urge to run my lips over his skin.

It was as if he could read my mind. He drew me even closer, sending waves of nervous energy thrumming through my body. My lips feathered against the skin of his neck and I wondered if he could feel my out-of-control heartbeat. Then again, his heartbeat seemed pretty wild as well. I could detect his pulse in his neck near my mouth, which rested lightly on his skin. It was erratic, maybe even more so than mine.

His hands spanned my back, and shiver after shiver rippled through me. One dance. That was all I'd allow. Indecent fantasies of Leo invaded my mind as we swayed.

God. I needed to get out of here. Otherwise, I was perilously close to kissing him, or licking him, or something. I'd make a fool of myself in front of every business owner on Palmira.

"I love this version," Leo murmured into my ear about the Radiohead cover, and I nodded in agreement. His voice was so sexy, I could do nothing else. Somehow, my brain and her mouth were unable to form cohesive sentences, and it was tough to resist the primal urge to stroke the back of his neck. Nope, I couldn't fight it. With an errant finger, I traced his neatly trimmed hair so softly, I hoped he didn't notice.

"I saw you ride up on your motorcycle," I murmured. "What kind is it? I remember you talking about bikes five years ago. You'd always dreamed of owning one."

"A Harley," he said. "If you're good, I'll give you a ride."

Well, that made me melt all over the place. I grinned into his neck.

Leo's hands splayed firmly across my back, one finger riding my spine, the others low, just above my butt. It was as if he knew exactly where to touch me so I could have maximum pleasure. He felt so right, I pressed harder against him, seeking more contact with his body. Shifting his head so his lips brushed my ear, he groaned a little.

So, I did affect him. Good.

The song ended and blended into a fast, bouncy tune I didn't recognize. I leaned back a few inches, captivated by Leo's slate-colored eyes and the way he was staring at me. Like he wanted me. Like he wouldn't take no for an answer.

He settled his hands on my waist, and I didn't squirm away. Couldn't. "Still wanna leave?" he asked.

I was about to answer in the negative when Megan appeared.

"My turn," Megan said to Leo, grabbing his arm and tugging him to the middle of the room. His eyes were wide, and he cocked his head as if in apology to me. But I didn't understand the searching looks he gave me while the two of them danced. Why didn't he just walk away?

Um, no.

I couldn't handle watching them. It was stupid and juvenile, but I gave Leo a little wave and quickly spun around and walked out of the party. Something about seeing them together conjured all the memories of my previous relationship, and it was all I could do not to cry out of frustration on the drive home. The happiness of being in his arms had evaporated.

I hated feeling envious of another woman, and the shame of jealousy stung as I stomped through the hotel and unlocked the door of my apartment on the building's first floor. I hadn't felt that green-eyed monster since Jacob. Still, seeing Megan with Leo had triggered all those old, awful feelings.

Jacob had told me he'd screwed other women because I wasn't able to please him. Would the same thing happen with Leo? Would it happen with every man I ever felt attraction to for the rest of my life?

I might as well give up now. The presence of other women would be a common scenario, I was sure. Especially if I tried to be with Leo. Obviously, others would want him, and I'd forever feel like I was competing. No, that was something I wanted to avoid. Better if another, more confident woman claimed him. That way I wouldn't get my heart broken again.

Realizing I was being pissy, I flung my purse on the kitchen counter, then fell onto the sofa. Tears pricked my eyes. What the hell was wrong with me? Had Jacob left me that broken? Damn.

Leo didn't deserve my drama or her anger. He'd simply danced one dance with a woman who'd asked him. Surely I could handle that. Look at all I'd already handled. If I was interested in him, I should make my feelings known. If he wasn't interested, I'd just have to deal with rejection like an adult.

Maybe Leo's return was perfectly timed. Maybe I was ready to set aside all the old hurts, all the ancient history and my worries, both physical and emotional. Maybe I should have done what Catalina suggested: set everything aside and freefall. Just let go and see where I landed.

My mom's journal was on the coffee table, and I turned to it out of hope and a bit of boredom. Unfortunately, burying myself in the past didn't improve my mood. Mom's writing about my dad only reinforced my feelings about men.

Great.

NOV. 22: I tried calling jerk-face again tonight to see if he wants to see his daughters. No answer. What kind of man would avoid these girls? On Thanksgiving no less? Today we had a great feast, first with the hotel guests, then again with the grandparents. Nicole ate a huge piece of pumpkin pie, but Jessica only wanted the whipped cream off the chocolate cake. It was a perfect day, I just wish their dad had been around to see it.

I slammed the journal shut.

When had my mother had time to write? I searched my mind and vaguely recalled her often sitting at her desk late at night, reading glasses perched on her nose. But I thought she was doing hotel paperwork.

If only I'd paid attention or showed some interest. Had I, maybe Mom would have shared things instead of keeping everything to herself.

It wouldn't have changed anything about my life, but it might have helped me understand Mom more and maybe get a clue about my own life, why I sometimes acted so afraid and hesitant.

____