her cleavage. It was pretty impressive if she said so herself.
“Dance with me,” the man whispered.
He didn’t even wait for her answer. He wrapped his arms around her waist and smoothly took her to the dance floor where throngs of couples danced. The lights were low, and the chandeliers pitched the room into a romantic glow.
The sexy stranger spun her around, catching her by the waist. He tucked one of her hands on his shoulder but kept the other in his. His other hand pressed into her lower back, keeping her close to him. They were all lined up, their intimate parts getting well acquainted with one another.
“I don’t know your name,” she said.
“It’s Rush.”
She chuckled. “That is not a real name.”
“Oh, but it is. See, I was a preemie. A full two months early. Scared the hell out of my poor mother. The delivery was quick, and everyone joked that I was in a rush to get someplace. The name stuck.”
It was a sweet story, and it went straight to her heart. Rush was lucky he had no health problems. Preemies often had medical issues, but Rush looked to be the picture of health and masculine virility. Good lord, the man was only swaying them to the beat of the music, but he had muscles for days.
“Rush,” she tasted the name on her tongue. It was wonderful to say out loud.
“Yes, Chacha?”
“Nothing,” she stumbled out the word. “Just testing it out to see how believable it is to call a grown man Rush. So, what do you do, Rush?”
His laughter was warm, his muscular form tightening against her. “No way, Chacha. You asked a question, and I answered truthfully. It’s my turn now.”
“Is that how it is going to be?”
“It sure is. I want to get to know you, mysterious Chacha.” He smiled down at her, his eyes searching hers. “I would like to know what you do, but using my question for that seems silly. I want to know something else. Something more personal.”
“More personal than my career?”
“You have already spilled that secret. Designer, hence the fascination with the twirling gowns. What a person does and the career they have are two different things.”
His answer was heavy, and Chantal instinctively knew he had divulged something in what he had said. She was too keyed up and too into having his hands on her body to press much further.
Besides, her wish was sort of coming true. Having hope had materialized this sexy stranger who had pursued her all the way to the dance floor.
“Interesting take. What is this personal question you want to ask?”
“I know you’re not here with anyone. No man in his right mind would let a woman like you, dressed in that gown, walk around here without an escort.”
Chantal snorted in the most unladylike manner, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. The idea was too silly to take seriously. “I mean, it is a party with a bunch of rich stiffs. There are models types around, I’m seriously not worried about my virtue.”
Rush’s grip on her tightened, his jaw ticked, and his green eyes did darken as his nostrils flared. “Oh, Chacha, love.”
Oh, shit. That had been a slip out of her Chacha persona. Women like Margie and Gwen never felt bad about themselves. Or if they did, they surely didn’t let sexy strangers know they had a poor self-image. Chantal shrugged.
“I’m less into surviving on plain rice cakes and more into chicken fried rice. I’m fine with that. You only live once. When I’m on my deathbed, I don’t want to be proud I kept a tiny waist. I want to be happy to know I tasted all the things I wanted.”
Rush chuckled. “I appreciate that.”
“Right,” Chantal recovered. “You still haven’t asked me that very personal question. I think you’re stalling, Mr. Rush.”
“Am I? That is entirely possible. Maybe I’m trying to formulate my question in a way that will make it impossible for you to refuse me an answer.”
Whatever Chantal was going to say was drowned out by the very sudden change in music. It was no longer a romantic slow waltz, but a loud dance tune. Something that was made to hinder conversation and encourage grinding. Rush mumbled something under his breath, but without missing a beat, he waltzed them to the side of the dance floor, right out of the ballroom, and into a large hallway.
The music's sounds were barely audible as they made their way down the hallway into