There Goes My Heart (The Sullivans #20) - Bella Andre Page 0,16

in the story. Until tonight, I had no idea she was involved with that story at all.” Zara swallowed hard. “Or that she deliberately left my name off the makers list they submitted for the piece. Because I just make glasses, not art.”

The sound that reverberated up from his chest was not far from a growl. “She’s jealous.”

“Jealous?” Zara wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d grown two heads. “No.” She shook her head, hard enough that she had to right her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “No way. Brittany is definitely not jealous of me.”

“She is. Trust me on this. It doesn’t make things right, but at the very least, I hope it will help you remember that her behavior doesn’t have a single thing to do with how great you are. Cameron went with her because he’s weak. And your name likely didn’t end up on the list for the makers story because she knew you’d outshine everyone else. Especially her.”

“You’ve been amazing tonight, Rory, but whatever you’re seeing…I just can’t. She was the first one picked for every team at school and voted class president. She had her choice of top-flight universities. She got an amazing job right after graduation. And she always looks fantastic. I promise you, the very last thing she wants is to be like me.”

“That’s quite a list.” But he still didn’t look impressed. “Now tell me yours.”

“Mine?” She made a face. “I was a mediocre high school student. I went to a midlevel college. I didn’t get picked for the best jobs. And as you know from earlier tonight, my fashion choices often need help.”

He smiled at that before saying, “You forgot a few things. First, that you love what you do. Don’t you?”

“You know I do.”

“Second, that you get to stretch your creative muscles and be your own boss every day, right?”

“Again, you know the answer is yes.”

“And third, that you don’t want to look like anyone else, otherwise you wouldn’t have turned your creative passion into creating funky, bright, unique glasses that are most definitely art.”

Had he always made her want to smile this much?

“Who wouldn’t want to be like you? Especially,” he added with that wicked glimmer in his eyes, “when out of all the women here, you’re the one who gets the privilege of dancing with me?”

She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”

“Something great?”

“If it will help you sleep better at night, let’s go with that.” But she couldn’t hold back the truth. “You have been really, really great here tonight. Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He looked more wicked than ever. “The night is still young.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

When Rory was a kid, his parents had made him take ballroom dance lessons. He’d been a terrible troublemaker in class, but he’d gotten away with it because he’d been a natural dancer. Though he enjoyed dancing at family events with his cousin Lori, who was a professional dancer, he rarely got the chance to bust a move with anyone else who knew what they were doing.

It was one heck of a surprise to learn that Zara knew how to get down.

Her movements weren’t trained, or practiced, but her innate grace—and exuberance—mattered far more. During the months that they’d worked together at the warehouse, she’d never seemed to care the slightest bit what anyone thought of her. She brought that same energy to the dance floor. She clearly danced for joy, rather than to impress.

And as he spun and twirled her, bringing her close then letting her go again before reeling her back in, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to do a different dance together…in his bed.

He could already guess how it would be to make love to her. Their one short kiss—a kiss he’d been driven to give Zara in the face of her stepsister’s obstinate refusal to admit that she’d done anything wrong—had shocked him.

He was blown away by the heat they generated. By Zara’s delicious taste.

And, most of all, by his sudden desire to claim so much more from her than just one kiss.

Wanting nothing more than to crush her mouth beneath his, in a bid to regain his sanity, he spun her around the dance floor instead. Yesterday morning, when he’d stumbled upon her solo descent into oblivion, he hadn’t seen the potential danger in offering to be her wingman tonight. Of course, even if he had, he wouldn’t have made a different decision—not