“Sheesh, you’re bold.” Yasmine had always been the plainer and the less adventurous of the two of them.
“Why not? Could be fun,” she said.
Yasmine waved her on. “Fine. If it turns out he’s ugly, you can disappear like Cinderella.”
Jaz shook her head. “You know you wrong. We shouldn’t be so shallow.”
“Who’s shallow?” Yasmine demanded, waving her arm and encompassing the entire center. “We gave our souls to this event. It’s ten times better than last year, all for the kids. It’s human nature to want something good-looking to play with after working hard.”
“All right, all right.” Jaz pretended to be exasperated with her sister. “I’ll ask the devil to dance, but if he burns me, you’re going to pay.”
“Whatever.” Yasmine gave her a shove and laughed.
On her way, Jaz heard Lamont demand of Yasmine where Jaz was going, and her sister told him not to worry about it. Jaz suppressed a chuckle. No two people had been together longer and fought more, at least not in her circle. Lamont and Yasmine loved each other though, and Jaz wouldn’t be human if she didn’t dream of having someone special, too.
She drew up before Tor and offered him her cutest smile. “So, are you having fun without me?”
He appeared arrested by her words and then shook himself. “No, and therefore you owe me.”
“Hm, I thought the last tally was that you owe me, sir.”
“Is that what you recall?” He pretended confusion and tugged her to him. Jaz caught her breath when he began moving to the beat, quite well for a white boy. One hand circled her waist and splayed across her lower back. “You move pretty well for a black girl.”
She burst out laughing. “You’re terrible.”
He tilted his head to the side, and his green eyes twinkled. She felt something stir in her belly. He spun them, and they circled the floor, ignoring everyone else. “You were thinking that about me, weren’t you?”
“That you’re a black girl?” she teased. “No, sorry, the hands give you away.”
“Well, I try.”
She cracked up at the way he attempted to sound feminine and failed with his deep voice. When he walked into the center, he’d seemed so stiff, so self-contained. She would never have believed he would cut up the way he did now. Maybe he was able to let go because of her, or as she had seen it countless times before, the mask let him forget everything and just be himself.
Jaz drew back and took his hand. “Come on.” She led him from the room and down the hall to the next door. All the while, Tor never pulled away, and she became aware of how soft his palm was. Definitely, not a manual-labor kind of guy like many of the guys she knew around here. Many worked in construction. Maybe Tor worked in an office downtown.
At the next door, she stopped and tugged a key from her pocket. Tor glanced up and down the hall. “Are you looking for a place to do me in?”
“Yes,” she joked, “because little old me can take big you.”
“Can you?”
She shivered and blinked up at him. Tor stood a foot taller than her even in her heels. His muscular build and the way his T-shirt lay flat against his stomach said the man probably worked out. Either that or he was gifted with fantastic genes. “If we’re discussing a fight, no. I already have evidence of my skills in that area.”
He reached out a hand to try helping her with the key, but she brushed his hand aside. At last she got the door unlocked and made a mental note to talk to maintenance about oiling the lock. She’d had to shake the key and wiggle the knob as she fought it to give.
They strode inside, and Jaz hit the lights. The room flooded with illumination to reveal a smooth, glossy floor and mirrors on all sides. Jaz shut the door and locked it. Tor walked to the middle of the floor and spun slowly as he took in the area. “I can still hear the music pretty well.”
She shrugged. “It’s a really old building. We could use a lot of updates, but we don’t have the funds. As it is, we’re doing all we can to pay the lease each month. The thing I’m worried about is there are rumors the owner wants to sell.”
While she made this speech, Tor went still. He glanced away from her. She couldn’t see his expression behind the mask, but she recognized the set to the shoulders and guessed it meant disinterest.
“You don’t have to close off. I was only sharing a little about my work. I’m not hitting your pockets.”
He peered back at her, his eyes doleful now. “You get that a lot?”
She shrugged. “I’m used to it. My work is fundraising. Every time I open my mouth, people think I’m trying to get money. That’s why I’ve developed my other skills.”
“Oh?”