Page 55 of Single Dad's Second Chance

Hell, maybe that dancer will be here tonight.I doubted I’d be enticed, not after losing Mia. Without her, it felt like a crime to enjoy anything. Like life was in grayscale and drab.

After I paid my entrance fee, I walked inside and raised my brows at the huge crowd. I was late. The show was more than halfway over, and I gave up on the notion that I’d find a seat.

It hardly mattered. I’d only come to pass time that moved so slowly in the aftermath of messing things up with Mia. Seeing that talented dancer might tempt me to stop obsessing about my loss for a moment.

Scanning the dark crowds, I sought a spot to sit or stand. The only area that wasn’t packed was near the side. I settled in, waving off a waiter who walked past the tables, offering to take orders for drinks.

Then I looked up.

And I saw her.

The dancer. She was mid-step in a complicated, fast turn of footwork. But it was her. I remembered the slender length of her legs. The delicate and shiny beadwork of her costume. Even the long hair.

But it was alsoher.

“Mia?”

I stepped forward, mesmerized with the similarities. A half mask covered her face, but the more I stared, the more I was convinced that the mystery dancer who’d snared my attention was my Mia. They were the same.

I watched her smiling, painted lips part wider in a cocky smile, playing along with the theatrics of this dance routine. I’d kissed those lips until they were swollen. I gazed at her high cheekbones, recalling how smooth her silky skin was when I cupped her face.

Lower yet, I dragged my gaze over her breasts, punched with a hit of lust at the memory of sucking on them and teasing her hard nipples. Further down, her tight, flat dancer’s stomach. No fat and all strength. She’d tensed there when I went down on her.

Her hips. They rocked to the music now, but on my bed, I’d held on to them as I pounded into her tight heat.

Those legs. She’d wrapped them around me, cinching me close as we chased our orgasms together.

I narrowed my eyes at the small oval birthmark high on her thigh.

It was her.

My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. My eyes weren’t deceiving me. That birthmark proved it beyond a shadow of doubt.

The dancer I wanted to hire, the entertainment I was desperate to contact.

It washer.

Staring at her legs, I witnessed the slight stumble. She misstepped, and as I looked up, I felt the full intensity of her gaze on me.

We locked eyes, making eye contact as if it was just the two of us in here. No one else mattered. All these other dancers, musicians, waiters, and guests were insignificant.

In this critical moment of seeing her again after she ran out of my life, it was just me and her.

Surprise showed in her glittering green eyes, so wide open with alarm. Her minor mistake had to have been because of me, shocking her that I was here.

I knew she realized what this meant. She had to feel this change, this awareness between us.

She knew.

She knows that I know.

Nothing else could’ve caused that look of panic in her eyes, thatoh, shitexpression she so carefully tried to hide.

A mask wouldn’t hide her from me.

A flashy costume wouldn’t keep her concealed.

I’d made her. Her “cover” was blown.

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