Page 6 of Finding New Dreams

Rising on tiptoe, I put my lips to his ear. “I’m Rose.”

His fingers flexed tighter around my hand as he tugged me closer. “Flynn,” he rumbled in my ear.

Smiling, I pulled back but didn’t let go. And neither did he.

In the flashes of light, I saw his eyes sweep over me. But it wasn’t like Zane’s once-over from earlier. It was more like what I’d done when he’d walked toward me. As if he were seeing things that only he could see. And liked everything he saw.

That same warmth that smoldered between our hands flooded the rest of my body.

I loved these moments. These beginnings. Even if that was all they were, it was enough for me. For now.

I pulled him to the middle of the dance floor and let the music do its thing. My smile widened as his body caught the rhythm as well.

Holy crap did I love a man who could dance.

His lean, muscular body rolled like a wave from his neck to his hips. Then he shimmied his shoulders, drawing a peal of laughter from my lips. Grinning, he swayed around me, his narrow hips moving in perfect time with the beat.

Any second now he’d probably whip off his shirt and start gyrating while hysterical women stuffed dollar bills down his jeans.

Not that I’d complain.

But he didn’t. Instead, he kept a decent distance between our two bodies, a courteous gesture I hadn’t expected.

My smile widened, and I did a quick spin.

The corners of his mouth were still tipped upward, but his dark eyebrows bunched together as if he were studying me again. Then he did a quick spin of his own but wobbled at the end.

I grabbed his wrist and steadied him.

The muscles in his chest bunched beneath his t-shirt as he stared at my fingers wrapped around his arm. Before I could remove them, he slid his hand through mine until our fingers clasped and he twirled me in a circle.

My heart tap-danced as he pulled me close again and asked, “How many of those can you do in a row?”

I smirked, the former ballerina in me preening. “My record is ten.”

His eyebrows disappeared under the hair that constantly threatened to tangle with his eyelashes. But then a devious look took over his face. Many a schoolteacher must have dreaded that very expression. And many a woman must have lost all reason.

He leaned an inch closer to me. His scent—like sandalwood and warm spices—nearly distracted me from his next words. “If I help you break your record, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Giddiness swirled in my belly. “Deal.”

I knew I could do it. I wanted to do it, just to spend a bit more time with him before this Cinderella had to drive her modern carriage home.

Barely containing his smile, Flynn nodded at me then started spinning me in circles like a music-box ballerina.

I picked his face as my focus point with each turn. Watched his lips form the number of each spin. My breathing evened out. The world fell away. We were on a dark stage with the only light on us. If only that light would shine a little brighter. If only I could see him better.

“Eleven,” he said and eased me to a standstill.

I listed to the side a bit, but he kept me anchored by our hands.

“You want that drink?” he asked.

The world stopped spinning and sharpened around him.

“Absolutely,” I said.

After ordering our drinks and finding a tiny, empty table in a corner, we sat and sipped.

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