the loveliest girl at the ball in his arms. He eagerly took Kit by the hand and as they began to move, the man smiled to himself. He had been right. She did know how to do the intricate steps—but her partner did not. He was stiff, awkward, a pathetic dancer.
He stepped forward into the light. He was tall and well-built, his broad shoulders and sinewy muscles encased in a tight suit of black velvet. His shaggy raven-black hair was swept back from his forehead, unruly locks curling at his collar. His lowered lashes were surprisingly long, veiling coffee-brown eyes that missed nothing. The play of a dimple to the left of his mouth marked a crooked, often taunting smile. A tiny scar just below his right eye only made him more attractive.
He crossed the floor to where Kit was trying pitifully to match the awkward rhythm of her inept partner. When he reached them, Kit’s partner was so stunned at the intrusion that he just stopped dancing and stood there, a questioning look on his face.
Kit stared up at the stranger. She drew in her breath softly, assailed by a feeling she had experienced only in her private, secret dreams of love, when a faceless stranger held her and took her to ethereal heights of passion. He was unforgettable—so handsome, yet he emanated a sense of feral power that she found strangely desirable.
Kit met his probing gaze. For one flickering instant, it seemed as though he could see right through her black velvet gown to her bare flesh. A mysterious little smile touched his lips, as if to say that he was pleased with what he saw there.
He did not look at her partner as he declared huskily, “It seems the lady has a special need.”
With a movement so swift that Kit had no time to object, he swept her into his arms, whirling her completely around and dipping her backward, so low that her long hair brushed against the floor. He held her there for an instant, his dark eyes proudly challenging. “Kurt Tanner,” he casually introduced himself, swinging her up, forward and back into a dip once more. “Can you dance with me?”
Kit was tingling from head to toe with anticipation. She sensed that this savage of a man could match her every step in a way no other partner ever had before. With a provocative laugh, she gave a high kick as he swung her once more, her gown falling away to reveal a long, shapely leg. There was no mistaking the soft gasps of their audience. “I think,” Kit said with a bold wink, “the question is—can you dance with me ?”
“There’s one way to find out, mi princesa .” He returned the wink, announcing, “Milonga, my princess, the outlaw Spanish tango!”
He drew her up to stand tall and straight before him as the throbbing cadence of the music made the very air about them seem to vibrate with emotion. They were unaware that other dancers had given up their attempts to do the intricate, difficult dance and had backed from the floor. All in attendance ringed the room to watch the stunning couple. The crystal-and-gold chandeliers bathed their bodies in shimmering light. They were a vision of sensuality in black lace and velvet, whirling together through the charged atmosphere.
Kurt Tanner slid his right hand from Kit’s shoulder down her back and along the curve of her hips. Their fingers interlocked as their cheeks turned first left, then right. Kit allowed him to bend her effortlessly backward once more, her bare leg kicking up and out of the velvet slit, sending a ripple through the onlookers once more.
As one they sidestepped to the left, made a swift kick, and turned abruptly. Kurt moved with precision, guiding her through breathless dips and swings. Then he lifted her up in the air with one arm, holding her aloft as he turned round and round. Kit balanced regally, legs outstretched, arms high above her head in an arch. Then suddenly he dropped her, to the awed cries of the crowd, catching her easily to swing her about in a wide sweep. He brought her almost to
He stepped forward into the light. He was tall and well-built, his broad shoulders and sinewy muscles encased in a tight suit of black velvet. His shaggy raven-black hair was swept back from his forehead, unruly locks curling at his collar. His lowered lashes were surprisingly long, veiling coffee-brown eyes that missed nothing. The play of a dimple to the left of his mouth marked a crooked, often taunting smile. A tiny scar just below his right eye only made him more attractive.
He crossed the floor to where Kit was trying pitifully to match the awkward rhythm of her inept partner. When he reached them, Kit’s partner was so stunned at the intrusion that he just stopped dancing and stood there, a questioning look on his face.
Kit stared up at the stranger. She drew in her breath softly, assailed by a feeling she had experienced only in her private, secret dreams of love, when a faceless stranger held her and took her to ethereal heights of passion. He was unforgettable—so handsome, yet he emanated a sense of feral power that she found strangely desirable.
Kit met his probing gaze. For one flickering instant, it seemed as though he could see right through her black velvet gown to her bare flesh. A mysterious little smile touched his lips, as if to say that he was pleased with what he saw there.
He did not look at her partner as he declared huskily, “It seems the lady has a special need.”
With a movement so swift that Kit had no time to object, he swept her into his arms, whirling her completely around and dipping her backward, so low that her long hair brushed against the floor. He held her there for an instant, his dark eyes proudly challenging. “Kurt Tanner,” he casually introduced himself, swinging her up, forward and back into a dip once more. “Can you dance with me?”
Kit was tingling from head to toe with anticipation. She sensed that this savage of a man could match her every step in a way no other partner ever had before. With a provocative laugh, she gave a high kick as he swung her once more, her gown falling away to reveal a long, shapely leg. There was no mistaking the soft gasps of their audience. “I think,” Kit said with a bold wink, “the question is—can you dance with me ?”
“There’s one way to find out, mi princesa .” He returned the wink, announcing, “Milonga, my princess, the outlaw Spanish tango!”
He drew her up to stand tall and straight before him as the throbbing cadence of the music made the very air about them seem to vibrate with emotion. They were unaware that other dancers had given up their attempts to do the intricate, difficult dance and had backed from the floor. All in attendance ringed the room to watch the stunning couple. The crystal-and-gold chandeliers bathed their bodies in shimmering light. They were a vision of sensuality in black lace and velvet, whirling together through the charged atmosphere.
Kurt Tanner slid his right hand from Kit’s shoulder down her back and along the curve of her hips. Their fingers interlocked as their cheeks turned first left, then right. Kit allowed him to bend her effortlessly backward once more, her bare leg kicking up and out of the velvet slit, sending a ripple through the onlookers once more.
As one they sidestepped to the left, made a swift kick, and turned abruptly. Kurt moved with precision, guiding her through breathless dips and swings. Then he lifted her up in the air with one arm, holding her aloft as he turned round and round. Kit balanced regally, legs outstretched, arms high above her head in an arch. Then suddenly he dropped her, to the awed cries of the crowd, catching her easily to swing her about in a wide sweep. He brought her almost to
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