“What’s next?” she asked him.
“Next?”
“In the list of three things we have to do for the wedding?”
“You’re getting right into this, aren’t you?”
“Why not? I’ve come this far.”
“Yes, you have,” he said, watching her, with a pleased expression on his face. Music started to play on her sound system. A CD she didn’t know she owned.
“You don’t own it,” he said. “It’s mine.”
It was a ballad, with the beat of a waltz. Something magical and mysterious. And yet, it was familiar, and welcoming.
“Next,” he said, “I teach you to dance.”
Dance? Unease swept through her. “Me? I can’t dance.”
Gabe drained his wine glass then got up from his chair. “And so—the lesson.” He moved to stand next to her.
A touch of panic spoiled her mood. “You mean, to dance at the wedding? I don’t want to.” And then, feeling the inevitability of it, she said, “Do I have to?”
He held out his hand. She waited a beat and then put hers inside his palm, feeling a connection between them. A flow of energy that tugged and pulled like a magnet.
“You’ll be elegant and beautiful and everyone will want to dance with you,” he said. “Including Rodney.”
“I don’t want to dance with Rodney,” she told him, feeling the strangeness of Rodney’s name as she said it.
He led her into the living room. “You have to.”
“Why?”
“To get him completely out of your system.”
Soft light from the candles on the dining room table provided the only light. Beyond the glass of the big living room window, night had come.
All thoughts of Rodney faded as Gabe touched her waist in the traditional waltz position. He held her at arm’s length as they moved together to the sound of the music. The melody wove around them, light and full of promise, creating a magic that swirled through her head and tingled her skin as she effortlessly followed Gabe’s lead.
When the song finished, he released her, letting his hands fall to his sides. Jessibelle immediately felt the loss of his touch. At the same time, she understood how much of the dance was him—his movements, his lead. “You did most of that,” she told him.
“I am an excellent partner,” he said. “But no matter who you partner with, you will dance like that. And now, once more.”
He held out his hand again, and she put her hand in his again, and the melody changed.
“You can also dance like this.” He snugged her close to his chest, fitting her against him, until they were like one person moving to the rhythm of the music.
“This is still a waltz?”
“Yes, Jessi, it is, but with a difference.”
A difference? What did he mean, a difference? Did he mean the heat? The closeness? The wanting to wrap herself around him and always have him there?
He leaned down, his cheek pressing her cheek as he held her captive in his embrace. Captive, and yet, it felt like being home.
“I love the smell of your perfume.”
Light flooded her senses. His words made her feel special and beautiful, and his closeness made her feel overpowered. “I’m not wearing perfume,” she said.
“Then I love the smell of you.”
Suddenly the apartment buzzer sounded and they broke apart. Jessibelle felt like she was falling through the air and crashing to the ground.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Gabe said, as he moved toward the window.
The buzzer sounded again, more insistent this time.
“Better answer it,” he told her.
Jessibelle crossed over to the door to answer the buzzer, feeling slightly unsteady in her new shoes.
“Jessibelle?” Hanna’s voice came over the intercom. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
· · · · ·
With a sense of resignation, Jessibelle touched the button to let her used-to-be Best Friend enter the building.
Something about touching that button invoked a memory. She had let Hanna in this way, many times, before Hanna had met Rodney. And now something had changed.
Somehow in
“Next?”
“In the list of three things we have to do for the wedding?”
“You’re getting right into this, aren’t you?”
“Why not? I’ve come this far.”
“Yes, you have,” he said, watching her, with a pleased expression on his face. Music started to play on her sound system. A CD she didn’t know she owned.
“You don’t own it,” he said. “It’s mine.”
It was a ballad, with the beat of a waltz. Something magical and mysterious. And yet, it was familiar, and welcoming.
“Next,” he said, “I teach you to dance.”
Dance? Unease swept through her. “Me? I can’t dance.”
Gabe drained his wine glass then got up from his chair. “And so—the lesson.” He moved to stand next to her.
A touch of panic spoiled her mood. “You mean, to dance at the wedding? I don’t want to.” And then, feeling the inevitability of it, she said, “Do I have to?”
He held out his hand. She waited a beat and then put hers inside his palm, feeling a connection between them. A flow of energy that tugged and pulled like a magnet.
“You’ll be elegant and beautiful and everyone will want to dance with you,” he said. “Including Rodney.”
“I don’t want to dance with Rodney,” she told him, feeling the strangeness of Rodney’s name as she said it.
He led her into the living room. “You have to.”
“Why?”
“To get him completely out of your system.”
Soft light from the candles on the dining room table provided the only light. Beyond the glass of the big living room window, night had come.
All thoughts of Rodney faded as Gabe touched her waist in the traditional waltz position. He held her at arm’s length as they moved together to the sound of the music. The melody wove around them, light and full of promise, creating a magic that swirled through her head and tingled her skin as she effortlessly followed Gabe’s lead.
When the song finished, he released her, letting his hands fall to his sides. Jessibelle immediately felt the loss of his touch. At the same time, she understood how much of the dance was him—his movements, his lead. “You did most of that,” she told him.
“I am an excellent partner,” he said. “But no matter who you partner with, you will dance like that. And now, once more.”
He held out his hand again, and she put her hand in his again, and the melody changed.
“You can also dance like this.” He snugged her close to his chest, fitting her against him, until they were like one person moving to the rhythm of the music.
“This is still a waltz?”
“Yes, Jessi, it is, but with a difference.”
A difference? What did he mean, a difference? Did he mean the heat? The closeness? The wanting to wrap herself around him and always have him there?
He leaned down, his cheek pressing her cheek as he held her captive in his embrace. Captive, and yet, it felt like being home.
“I love the smell of your perfume.”
Light flooded her senses. His words made her feel special and beautiful, and his closeness made her feel overpowered. “I’m not wearing perfume,” she said.
“Then I love the smell of you.”
Suddenly the apartment buzzer sounded and they broke apart. Jessibelle felt like she was falling through the air and crashing to the ground.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Gabe said, as he moved toward the window.
The buzzer sounded again, more insistent this time.
“Better answer it,” he told her.
Jessibelle crossed over to the door to answer the buzzer, feeling slightly unsteady in her new shoes.
“Jessibelle?” Hanna’s voice came over the intercom. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
· · · · ·
With a sense of resignation, Jessibelle touched the button to let her used-to-be Best Friend enter the building.
Something about touching that button invoked a memory. She had let Hanna in this way, many times, before Hanna had met Rodney. And now something had changed.
Somehow in
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