Page 11 of No More Heartbreakers

My heart softened just the tiniest bit. Who hadn’t had a moment or two of distracted driving?

Yes, his had nearly flattened me, but there was a good explanation for it. Maybe hewasn’tthe self-absorbed, thoughtless jerk I’d pegged him as.

Mara’s excited shriek broke through my muddled thoughts. “Justin, you guys. All seniorita’s report to the dance floor.”

She jumped up from her chair and tugged at Kenley and me. Kenley went willingly. Allison and Ce Ce followed them out onto the colorfully-lit wooden floor.

“Heidi—get your ass over here.” Mara gave me a fierce supermodel pout then spun around and wiggled her hips to the music.

I stood, relieved at the excuse to remove myself from Aric’s proximity. “I think I’m going to be forced to dance.”

“Great. I’ll go, too.” He stood and pulled my chair back out of the way for me.

“Okay…”

My response sounded like a question. Guys never danced, or at least Hale never did. Unless you counted the feet-in-one-place-knees-barely-bending thing he’d done on the rare occasions he’d given in to my begging at frat parties.

Aric apparently had no inhibitions about dancing. As we reached the dance floor and joined the others, he began moving with the beat. And could he ever move.

Lord, help me.He was really good. Not in a Justin Timberlake choreographed way, but more subtle, all rhythmic and sexy. He wasn’t showing off, just letting go and having fun.

Still, his body knew what it was doing.

After a minute I realized I’d been watching his hips. I dragged my eyes up to his face.

He smiled at me, and a flash of heat sparked low in my body. I had to look away. I turned toward my friends, who were singing loudly and dancing with their arms in the air.

Better. Much better.

Back at the table, Dan-n-Janet stood and said their good-byes. They waved in our direction. Brad, Tony, and Dennis watched all of us, grinning and shaking their heads.

No doubt they were enjoying the show as well as the free access to the now-unattended beer pitchers we’d ordered. Part of me wanted to retreat and join them, talk shop, watch from a safe distance.

But part of me was starting to have fun. I hadn’treallydanced in so long.

The song segued into one of Michael Jackson’s classic hits—the DJ must’ve been encouraged by the sudden influx of dancers to the floor and didn’t want to take a chance on losing the mojo. Mara jostled me with a hip-bump, and I laughed, beginning to move to the music more fluidly, relaxing, enjoying myself more than I had in a long time.

The girls from the station were spinning and showing off, thrilled to find a guy who would actually dance, and Aric served as a sort of group-partner for us all.

Though we were all together, every time I glanced up at his face, he was watching me. He studied how my body moved, responding to my motions, matching them with moves of his own.

We didn’t touch at all, but it felt like we were… connected somehow.

After another song or two, I grew used to the feel of his eyes on me, grew to like it. And the focused attention made me brave. I sang along with a song I knew, closing my eyes and moving to the hypnotic beat, as Michael advised me to let the madness and the music get to me.

“It’s fun to watch you dance.”

The nearness of Aric’s voice jolted me out of the moment. My eyes opened, and I took a step back, the seductive warmth of his breath still caressing my ear.

“Um… you too. You’re good.”

He leaned in close again to be heard over the pounding music, his fingers gripping my shoulder lightly. “No. I mean I really like watching you.”

I stopped cold, right there on the dance floor. Literally feeling chilled, as if someone had poured a post-game Gatorade bucket over my head.

“I’m—going to the bathroom.” I spun around and headed for the lighted sign in the back of the club as if the hounds of hell were at my back.

Aric was every bit as scary as a Hellhound. Scarier. Because now I knew what kind of guy he was—I’d met his breed before.

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