under the table.
“Come on.” Ben stood and held out a peremptory hand to me. “Let’s dance.”
I stared up at him. “Seriously?” He looked serious. A lot more serious than one would think, issuing a dance invitation. But then, it was more like an order. “After that boatload of crazy, all you’ve got is ‘Let’s dance’?”
“It’s a party. It’s my mother’s party. You look miserable and she’s going to blame it on me.”
“Instead of Daisy,” said Phin.
“Instead of all of you,” Ben said.
Across the way, I caught Mrs. McCulloch watching us with a pinch of worry between her brows. I was helpless against maternal disappointment, even when it wasn’t my mother.
“Fine.” I pushed back my chair and stood. Ben waited stoically and Mark grinned, much too broadly. “Maybe you and Phin should hit the floor, too,” I suggested sweetly, because our tiny tots tap dance teacher had refunded Phin’s tuition and suggested Mom use it to buy an art set.
Unsuspecting, Mark turned to Phin. “Are you game?”
She studied him for a long moment, as if assessing his motive, then shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
He helped her over the bench and they were off. Then it was just Ben, waiting on me, and me, unable to avoid the inevitable, though I gave it one last try.
“I’m not much of a dancer.” I’d lasted longer than Phin in tiny tots tap class, but only slightly.
“That’s all right.” He took my hand and pulled me not entirely gently through the crowd. “I don’t mind.”
“I mind.” I dug in my heels as we reached the concrete slab serving as a dance floor. The stage now held a DJ playing country music, and colored lights ringed the square, throwing a prism glow on the couples that moved in concentric circles. Mark and Phin were already there, laughing and looking at their feet.
Ben faced me, still holding my right hand in his left. “I should have known you’d be one of those.”
“One of what?” I snapped back, then grimaced at the taste of figurative bait going down my gullet.
He kept his expression mildly challenging. “One of those people who never wants to do anything they don’t excel at.”
“At which they don’t excel,” I corrected him. “And that’s not true.”
“Okay.” He shifted his weight slightly as we stood there, looking more like sparring than dance partners. “Name me one thing you do for fun.”
“I read novels.” I lifted my chin and dared him to say that wasn’t fun. “Not literary ones, either. Romance novels, mysteries, science fiction …”
“But there’s not much chance of falling on your face reading, is there?”
“Ha! I’m not going to fall on my face if I dance with you.” At least, not literally, I hoped.
He played me like a deck of cards. “Then prove it.”
I wanted to tell him I didn’t have to prove anything to him. But of course I didn’t. I stepped up close, put my hand on his shoulder, and jerked my chin toward the dance floor. “Let’s do this thing.”
He surprised me by laughing. Not in victory, but in a warm, that-was-fun way. And I had to admit, it sort of was, even if I’d lost that round.
Then he put his hand on my waist, pulling me closer, and raised our linked fingers. Our bodies brushed lightly, and heat spread across my skin everywhere we touched. It had nothing to do with the hot July night, and everything to do with being in the circle of Ben’s arm. His shoulders were broad, and his shirt was open at the neck, so I was eye level with the pulse that beat in his tanned throat.
How was his pulse so steady? Mine was skittering all over the place, and my breath went all ragged, even though we hadn’t yet taken one step.
“Ready?” he asked, and I searched his voice for any sign he was as affected as I was. I certainly wasn’t going to look up and meet his eye. What if there was nothing reciprocal? Worse, what if he saw, reflected in my face, the thrill that ran through me when my chest brushed against his, when our thighs slid against each other as we danced?
Or tried to. At my nod, he stepped off on the beat and neatly joined the couples circling the floor. After that, the feel of Ben’s body became an unwelcome distraction as I tried to concentrate on the steps.
It was a two-step, which should be easy. Two quick steps, one slow. I mean, even Phin was doing