Page 60 of Quarantined with the Billionaire

Chapter Seventeen

An hour gave me plenty of time to get the redness out of my face and my eyes, to put on darker makeup, and to make sure the dress fit. Oh, it fit. A little too snuggly. My breasts were on display like cornucopia at Thanksgiving, and I gave up on panties, because they dug into me whenever I got the dress into place.

The shoes, too, were just a bit snug, making me think that Kate was a little smaller than I.

And I wasn’t that great with updos, either, but I managed a messy bun, something I could pull off. I didn’t have wispies; I had flyaways all over, but it worked for me. I also didn’t have much jewelry, but I wore a pretty pair of sparkly earrings and called it good.

The red lipstick, though, that was the capper. I’d brought it with me from my apartment, just because it was in my makeup drawer, but I didn’t wear it very often. Tonight, it was perfect, though. Any other color on my lips would have literally paled in comparison.

I waited until the exact minute and then opened my bedroom door. At first, I didn’t see Maddox until, as I walked farther into the space, I spied him sitting at the piano. He wasn’t poised to play or any such thing, but he’d been staring at the keys. Soft music piped through speakers I couldn’t even see.

There was no reading his expression when he looked up, but it was almost like he didn’t recognize me. When he stood, I wouldn’t have suspected it, though, because he offered me a hand. He wore a classic black-and-white tux, but it couldn’t quite cover up the musculature underneath. Perhaps that was because I knew what the layers of fabric were hiding.

“I thought about salsa or tango, but you said you’re not much of a dancer. How much ballroom dancing have you done in the past?”

I couldn’t help the smile threatening to rip my face in two. “Well, if it tells you anything, I don’t know the difference between the two dances you just named.”

“Fair enough.” He held a hand out to me. “And you look stunning, but the way you’re moving, I suspect maybe those shoes are a little too snug.”

Nodding, I realized the pain they were causing my toes was evident on my face. When I’d first put them on, I’d thought I could tough it out, but dancing wasn’t going to be fun with them on. “Do you care if I take them off?”

“No, go ahead. I don’t want you torturing yourself just to dance.”

He was quite a built taller than I, so the heels would have brought me closer to his level, but it wouldn’t have lasted long in those shoes anyway. Soon, I would have had blisters. “Thanks,” I said, sitting at the piano bench to pry the beautiful pumps off my aching feet.

As I stood, he held out his hand and I took it. “Have you ever waltzed before?”

I couldn’t help the giggle. “Not on purpose.” His eyes quizzed me, so I clarified. “About the only kind of dancing I’ve done in the past is slow dancing in a gym with other teenagers.”

“So you don’t dance for pleasure.”

“I haven’t. But I’m willing to learn.”

He flashed me a smile to show he was pleased. “Very good. The waltz is fairly simple, especially if you let me lead.” He wrapped an arm around my waist while taking my other hand in his, and I concentrated on having my feet follow his. “See, it’s a simple one-two-three.” Counting the steps out loud, he helped me get the rhythm in my head. “If you’re familiar with rumba, you might find it funny that the waltz at one time was considered a little naughty.”

“Really?” I did find that funny, as there didn’t seem to be anything sexual about it. Maybe that was because I was busy counting my steps.

“It’s because people were dancing with their bodies close.” To emphasize his words, his firm hand pressed gently against my back while his body pushed into me from the front. I looked up at him, now only mouthing the numbers, but his blazing eyes had my full attention.

“I get it now.”

“Exactly. The dance allows for no space between the couple, should they choose to be close.”

“Yeah, but slow dancing in school was like that, too.”

“Yes, in our modern era. But imagine eighteenth century Europe. Aristocratic women were clothed from head to toe, often in multiple layers, in an effort to prevent any prurient thought. They were trying so hard to not think about the one damned thing they wanted to do but were forbidden unless married. No looking, no touching. Then you throw in a dance like this where it would be easy to pull your partner close.” His steps slid me around the room, my bare feet gliding across the cool floor, but he was correct. My mind was no longer on dancing.

I was almost breathless. “I see your point.”

He paused then, loosening his grip against me. “And I see already this was a bad move on my part.”

“As a non-dancer, I can say I was enjoying it. But maybe you’d rather do something else, like hip hop. Or tap. We wouldn’t have to touch then.”

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t work, Bailey. There’s something about watching you move that arrests my brain, stops it from functioning properly.”

He further loosened his grip on my hand so that one of our limbs draped on the side of our bodies, but we each still had an arm wrapped around the torso of the other. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Only when you know you can’t go on.”

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