Page 47 of I Wanna Dance

“Viviana, I, thanks and?—”

“Bye-bye, Leah.” She sashayed out of the room without a backward glance.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Marco and me standing in the empty studio.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

Marco smiled. “I’m sorry, too.”

I bit my lower lip. “I don’t even remember what I said.”

“I remember what I said,” he admitted. “I was an asshole.”

“I should never have brought up your wife.”

Marco exhaled, stepping closer. “Leah, I have fallen in love with you.”

The words hit me like a wave, knocking the air from my lungs.

Say what?

“Marco—”

“No, let me finish,” he crooned. “I felt like I was giving you everything I had, and you were running away from me, so I was an ass.”

I took a step toward him. I could feel his body heat, we were so close, though just shy of touching each other. “I was scared that you’d dump me anyway, so I thought I’d do it so I could…I don’t know, not be rejected.”

He cupped my cheek. “How do you feel about me,cariño?”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, my chest tight. “I think…I think I’m in love with you.”

He bent his head and kissed me.

It was the best kiss. Wet, long, deep, and full of love.

He looked at me with wonder. “I’m here with you, Leah. And I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “I’ll try and not be scared.”

He shook his head. “Be whatever you want to be. I’ll still be there with and for you. I know you’re insecure, and that’s okay. I’ll just have to prove to you until you start believing it that we’re happening, that we’re…meant to be.”

I felt tears get past my eyes.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry.” He wiped my tears.

“I’m so sorry for being such a bitch to you that night.”

“We’re gonna fight again, Leah. We’ll say stupid shit. The key is to make up…quickly. I made a mistake. I was pissed with you and thought I’d give you a couple of days and let you apologize.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He grinned. “But I realized, thanks to my daughters, that I had my own apologizing to do.”

“I hear that make-up sex is a good way…you know, to make up,” I suggested, wanting desperately to lighten the mood.

He laughed and walked up to the sound system. He fiddled with it, and salsa music poured into the studio.

“Why don’t we start with a make-up dance?” He came to me, extending his hand. I placed mine into his, just the way I had been for the past many weeks. He guided me into position. His hand settled gently on my back, and I put mine on his shoulder, my other hand clasped in his.

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