Page 29 of A Lone Star Love Affair
“You’re going to have to let go,” she said as she looked up at him, his words giving her a thrill even as she denied them. His face was shadowed because of the dim lighting, but she could see his expression was solemn.
“Don’t say that when we have fire between us. More than that. The first night was magical. You can’t deny it.”
“No, but that night was long ago. There’s no future between us. I don’t want an affair and you don’t want to get married. When you’re talking marriage and children, Tony, then we can spend long evenings together, kiss, see if there really is more than lust between us.”
“You’re young, Isabelle. You don’t have to settle down and become a mother yet. You have years ahead.”
“I know what I want.”
“You say that to me, but when you kiss me, you tell me something entirely different,” he said. “You can’t deny it.”
She wanted him to kiss her right now. She was fighting herself as much as she was Tony. She stopped thinking and just danced with him, relishing being held and holding him close, moving with him, inhaling the scent of him, clean, soapy, an appealing aftershave, his fresh shirt. Her arm was on his shoulder, her hand at the back of his neck. The vision of him getting out of the pool, muscles rippling, added to her smoldering hunger.
The music changed to a fast rhythm and when she danced facing him, longing intensified. Every twist of his lean body, his heated expression and the sexy twists he made revved up her sensual responses. His impact on her was heightened by the dance and by his concentration on her, which made her feel wanted beyond measure. Black curls fell over his forehead, transforming his appearance from the shrewd all-business entrepreneur to a sexy man filled with a zest for life.
Prudence and wisdom faded, becoming dim voices, melting beneath a burning sun of desire that threatened to consume her caution.
He spun her around and when she turned to face him again, he took her hand to pull her close against him, pausing in the dance.
She couldn’t breathe or think. Her heart pounded. Longing suffused her, bringing with it erotic images. Immobilized, she stood pressed against him, forgetting where they were or that anyone else was near. She heard only her pounding heart and, faintly in the background, music. Tony’s dark eyes held her captured as completely as his arms around her.
His appeal caused barriers to crumble. She wanted him and it was impossible to stop her reaction.
They were on the dance floor, not moving, lost in each other and forgetting the world, Tony seeming to as much as she. She stepped away and he released her. The music ended and she moved farther from him, yet he still held her hand.
A tango commenced and Tony pulled her, placing his hand on her waist to dance.
She fell into step with him, watching him steadily as they moved across the floor to a dance she always found to be sensual, filled with sexy moves when shared with the right partner.
“You’ve done this before,” he remarked.
“So have you,” she said, realizing they were both at ease and familiar with a tango.
“Who taught you the tango?” he asked.
“More a where than a who. I took dance lessons the first two years I worked. I wanted the exercise. Growing up, I had always wanted dance lessons, but my family couldn’t afford them. I got a book at the library and tried to teach myself. Actually, I didn’t do too bad a job with it. Who taught you?” she asked lightly, curious who had been in his life before she knew him.
“When I was about eleven years old my folks sent me to a cotillion program where I was taught the tango, waltz, lots of dancing, etc. My friends all had to go and we learned manners, as if they were not drummed into me at home. Try placing books under your arms while you eat to learn to keep your elbows off the table. That one was at home. Anyway, it was long ago, like other things in my past, but definitely not forgotten.”
His last remark referred to their meeting. He didn’t have to say it because she knew from the change in his tone.
They stopped talking, giving themselves over to the dance and to gazing into each other’s eyes.
The tango heightened her erotic fantasies. By the time the dance ended, lust was primal. Tony had beads of sweat on his forehead. “I think we came in here for a drink,” she reminded him, not caring about the drink but wanting to stop the sexy dancing that heightened tension with each step she took.
“So we did,” he said, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. He took her arm and they returned to their table, where their drinks awaited.
In moments a waitress appeared to take their orders for appetizers. As soon as they were alone, he focused on her. “I’ve missed you and thought about you all week.”
“Nothing is fair about this, Tony, including you and your flirting.”
“Let’s just enjoy the evening. I know you can. You’re all bottled up, fighting yourself and your inclinations because of some imaginary calendar in your life.”
“Are you through analyzing me?” she asked, becoming annoyed, wondering whether her irritation was directed at herself or at Tony.
Tony raised his martini. “Here’s to finding you again, Isabelle.”
Even though she had a spectacular raise and new position, she didn’t want to drink to Tony finding her again, yet she raised her piña colada. “To the future, Tony.”
