Читать книгу All Night Long - Melissa MacNeal - Страница 14

All right, so it really wasn’t such a sacrifice, walking into the grand ballroom with the stud muffin who’d given her this miracle make-over. Aric eased her out of the doorway to pause for a moment—either so he could read the room, or to give her a chance to make a grand entrance. Lola wasn’t pleased that Skandalis had stood her up, but she wasn’t surprised, either. Of course he’d get called away, just when she’d turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly! Wasn’t that how her luck was running on this trip?

But here in this ballroom aglow with crystal chandeliers and champagne punch, where more than a hundred gloriously dressed guests swayed to the beat of a small orchestra, Lola decided to shine on. In the past hour she’d gone from feeling utterly exhausted and peeved to feeling like the High Exalted Ruler of the Universe. Way beyond a mere Priestess.

Not a sensation to be wasted. No matter whom she’d planned to be dancing with.

So as Aric led her to the parquet dance floor, she didn’t balk at being shown off. Didn’t protest when he extended his arm like a dancer in a competition, gripping only her fingertips as he held her in his dramatic gaze. And then they walked—no, they were gliding—to the center of the floor. On cue, the trumpets announced them with a fanfare, and the orchestra seguéd into the high style of a Viennese waltz.

It was no time to tell him she was a little rusty; that she’d forgotten all but the ONE-two-three of the beat she’d learned in a college ballroom dance class.

Not a problem, his silvery eyes said, and he cut the theatrics to lead her in a very basic waltz pattern. Soon they were surrounded by other couples, some who’d spent many hours on the dance floor, and Lola relaxed. Simply enjoyed feeling like she was in one of those scenes from a grand old movie, where the entire roomful of dancers turned and dipped gracefully.

“Thank you for this, Aric.”

He blinked. Either thinking of something else, or totally immersed in Strauss.

“For this wonderful evening,” she explained. “For the way you made my hair and face look like some swanky model’s, and the way you’ve escorted me here at the last minute, and—”

“Not a problem.”

Lola stifled her sigh. Any fantasy this Cabana Boy costarred in would have its limitations, right?

But it’s still a pretty wonderful feeling, isn’t it? To be dancing like I know what I’m doing—like I deserve to be the belle of the ball just this once?

Her lithe partner stepped back to raise her arm, leading her into a showy spin. With a grin she obliged him—until the squeeze of his hand at the top of the turn made her grimace. Her diamond had turned, and was now being driven into the flesh between her fingers.

Aric’s pouty lips parted in confusion. “Did I step on—”

“No, this thing’s rubbing me the wrong way!”

Stepping out of the other dancers’ path, Lola yanked the ring from her finger and stuffed it into his tux pocket, behind his lime-striped kerchief.

“Fletch will not ruin the rest of this day!” Lola whispered with a triumphant grin. Her finger looked naked without the rock she’d sported these past several weeks, yet the sense of freedom she now felt made her grin giddily at Cabana Boy.

“Dance on, sir! I think I’m getting the hang of this Priestess thing!”

With a sly smile her warden complied, easing them gracefully into the flow of the waltz. He really was a treat, all tricked out and squiring her around this way—not that she’d swell his head any more by telling him so. It was enough to float from one downbeat to the next with his hand on her back, telling herself he’d left duty behind to join her in this grand fantasy. Wondering if Aric had any inclination to take it farther….

It was then Lola spotted him: a figure in dazzling dress whites that set off his olive face and raven hair. He was whirling and gliding with an innate grace no mere Arthur Murray graduate could attain, because his supreme confidence carried him across the floor with a silver-haired lady who dripped in diamonds. Tall and slender, she, too, wore a sophisticated white—

Sophisticated, maybe, but she looks like a cigarette with tits.

Lola nearly choked when Captain Skandalis caught her eye. Winked at her, no less!

“By God, if he thinks he can—”

Aric twirled her expertly under his raised arm, so she had to shut up and concentrate. Good for him, sensing she was about to make an ugly scene.

But damned if, the next time she spotted him, Skorpio Skandalis wasn’t dancing with a different partner! This gal’s hair was bottle-black and her strapless, red sequined gown gaped open above wrinkly boobs that didn’t do it justice.

He must’ve felt her temper flaring, because this time Aric guided her to the edge of the dance floor and then twirled her into the crook of his arm. So she couldn’t run up and claw out the captain’s laughing eyes, obviously.

“It’s Skorpio’s obligation,” her escort spoke soothingly into her ear. Still holding her in that clinch, he lifted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “Those ladies have paid extra for the privilege of the captain’s company tonight. Most of them are longtime friends. Rich widows who cruise just for something to do.”

“Which he knew about before he stood me up, right?”

Lola tossed back half her champagne, nearly choking on its intense fizz. She didn’t ask if any of those bejeweled beauties were once the captain’s love slaves. Didn’t such a harem speak for itself—and for Skorpio’s priorities?

And here he came now, sauntering up to the dessert buffet—but of course taking time to squeeze and kiss the ladies who fawned over him along the way. Served him right to have three different colors of lip prints on his cheek.

Taking champagne from the table, Skandalis bowed elegantly. “To the most beautiful woman in this room,” he crooned as he clinked his glass to hers. “Miss Wright, you astound me, the way you’ve appeared here like a goddess in—”

“This is quite the emergency you’re tending to!” she rasped.

Captain Scandalous chuckled seductively. “I got called to a fire, my dear. You see how it is with me? So many flames—so little time to fan them all!”

And before she could reply, the arrogant Greek quaffed his bubbly, grinned devilishly—and strode to the end of the table with his arms open wide, to where the next flame was wagging her finger at him.

“Fire, my ass!” she muttered at his retreating backside. “Those old broads could start a weenie roast with their hot flashes! And I hope yours gets torched!”

Aric let out a loud laugh, but squelched it when some of the people around him turned to stare. “I can see now why the captain requested a companion for you, Miss Wright. He really wanted a bodyguard for himself.”

“Yeah, well, if he’d behave like a gentleman—follow through on his promise—I’d mind my manners, too.”

Lola realized then that her fist was planted in her hip and she was tapping her foot: Skandalis had taken his new partner in a clinch and was cheek-to-cheek in a tango position so close they were making love through their clothes. He was obviously going to bait her all evening; had no intention of dancing the night—or even part of a song—away with her, by the looks of the glittering, silver-haired entourage that cheered him on from the punch fountain.

She snagged another glass of champagne and downed half of it in a gulp. It was getting easier to do that.

“I appreciate your being such an understanding escort, Aric,” she said. Her voice was getting as slurred as her thoughts, but what did that matter? “I’m gonna sit the rest of them out. I don’t exactly feel like dancing anymore.”

“But Miss Wright, you’re the—”

“And knock it off with the ‘Miss Wright’ thing, OK?” she muttered. “Bad enough that Captain Scandalous is making me feel like such a wall flower, without feeling old enough to be your mother, as well.”

“You think I’d dress this way for my mother?” he countered, turning her chin with his finger. “We might as well enjoy—”

“You talk a good line, Aric, but you’re being paid to be my keeper, right?” Lola sighed, gently smoothing his lime-striped tie back into place. “I’m guessing any number of young ladies on this ship would love to be with you. So why don’t I just go back to my suite, and you can spend the rest of your evening—”

“Nice try, Priestess. Shall we sit over here for awhile?”

With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Lola traded her empty flute for another full one and allowed him to steer her toward a small table in the rear. Even after chugging bubbly, her spirits were deflating. Why was she feeling like a misfit at a middle school dance? So damn disappointed because the captain had snubbed her—when Cabana Boy here was trying his damnedest to show her a good time.

Sheesh, if she were with Dennis, he’d be schmoozing at the bar or working the room for new clients in this moneyed crowd, because dancing had never been his thing. Not even a simple slow dance like the one they were playing now—while Skandalis gazed haughtily into the enamored eyes of his third partner since he’d walked away from her.

Lola sighed forlornly. Instead of making her giddy, the booze was taking her down with the sheer exhaustion of this long, stressful day. Damn shame to be all tricked out but ready to bury herself in bed. Alone.

God, she wanted a cigarette. When she realized she was holding the stem of her empty champagne glass in the fork of her fingers, she shoved it away. Damn that Dennis! This was all his fault!

The orchestra struck up a sultry Latin introduction, and Lola could not watch Captain Skandalis faux-fornicate to another tango. “Look, I’ve got to use the little girls’—”

Damned if Aric didn’t stand up, like he planned on going with her!

And then a hand landed on her shoulder and a soft voice murmured, “May I have the honor of this dance, Lola mia? I requested this song just for you.”

Was she dreaming, or had every head swiveled at the raw longing in that voice? She turned to find Rio DeSilva smiling at her, within kissing distance, his Spanish eyes glowing golden-brown in the low light. He stuffed a folded bill into Aric’s pocket. And when her warden didn’t take the immediate hint, the security agent dismissed him with a pointed stare.

No dialog. No king-of-the-jungle guy games. Aric simply headed for the exit.

What was it about this man DeSilva? Oh, it didn’t hurt that his ivory tux and that black shirt with the tab collar rendered him fatally attractive…enough of a rebel bad-ass to make Lola suck in her breath as she returned his gaze. When those eyes wandered down to her lips, she licked them, wondering if her lipstick had held up through all that champagne.

His sigh sounded hungry.

Lola blinked, aware that Rio’s warm hand still rested on her shoulder, and that the orchestra had slithered into a seductive rendition of “Whatever Lola Wants.” Her mother used to ham up the lyrics of this song when she was a kid, acting like the spoiled princess she was…whatever Lola wants, Lola gets….

She smiled. Swallowed. The willowy black singer in strapless red sequins crooned the opening line into her mike—surely a blatant message to Captain Scandalous, who would not be dancing this one with her. Rio’s hand slipped down to the small of her back, and as he escorted her toward the dance floor, her pulse galloped.

This man was not her mother, nor was he hamming it up to humor her. Rio DeSilva knew exactly what Lola wanted, and he intended to give it to her. Maybe right here on the dance floor.

The brief flicker of that fantasy made her blink. Made her think, before she succumbed to the tang of booze on his breath—how would his tongue taste?—and the aroma of smoke that clung to his clothes.

“I—this is so romantic, that you requested this song for me,” she bleated, “but it’s been years since I learned to—”

“Give me thirty seconds in this dark corner, and the basic step pattern’s yours,” he said, effortlessly easing her out of the crowd and into tango position. “Give me another minute, and I’ll be yours, as well, Lola mia.”

Lola swallowed. It’s all she had the strength to do, once his seductive words sank in.

Wasn’t this the man who’d kept his distance earlier, saying he wouldn’t cross the captain’s line? Yet here he was, teaching her to tango in front of God and Skandalis and everyone.

“Gliiide…gliiiiide…step, step, step. Gliiiide…gliiiiide…”

How had she come to be pressed this close to him, thighs rubbing and hips flexing in rhythm? Her arm was dramatically thrust forward with his, and he was whispering the dance pattern as though telling her how he wanted her to make love to him. All the moves and nuances that would take him over the top.

And she was so damn ready to take him there.

“Gliiiide—gliiiiide—step, step, step,” he murmured again.

The singer’s castanets did a sexy click-click-click to that same beat, and Lola realized then that she was dancing, right there on the dance floor, without having to think about what came next, or having to coax her partner along like she’d done in ballroom dance class. Somehow DeSilva had step-step-stepped her onto the parquet floor, and—like an illusionist making magical things happen—the man with the tiger eyes had her dancing the tango on intuition.

The debonair Spaniard held her gently against his hip, his lead so smooth as to be invisible: just the merest pressure and pull of the warm hand that held hers. She caught a glimpse of the captain, who’d paused on the sideline to watch them.

Lola straightened to flaunt herself, her head held high and proud—like she’d seen in the movies. Rio’s grin flashed his approval: his eyes narrowed seductively, which cast the rest of his bronzed face into a mask of sheer seduction.

Gliiiide—gliiiiide—step, step, turn.

Without a hitch they negotiated the edge of the floor and insinuated themselves between other couples caught up in the passion of the dance.

Lola caught a whiff of brandy and fine tobacco, manly scents that increased his mystique and had her inhaling deeply: feeding her need for nicotine, yet firing her desire for something much more addictive. Rio Benito DeSilva was now a very seductive puzzle she longed to solve, slowly. Naked.

The music slowed to a dramatic halt, and as though he’d done it a hundred times, the Spaniard tipped her backwards into a dip that had her holding her breath. His face was mere inches above hers and the kiss on his lips had her name on it.

“Lola,” he breathed.

As though on cue, the ballroom lights went down. How long would he hold her this way? How long could her leg bear her weight?

And yet, she felt no concern. Rio held her firmly against him as time stood still. There was only the silent shimmer of the mirror ball sending its sequins through the room, and those lips inching so, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath.

A vein fluttered above his collar.

Lola stretched to kiss the smooth skin between its rounded black tabs; to feel the beat of his pulse against her lips.

The soft strains of a rhumba brought her upright—through no effort of her own—and Rio led her into the secretive sway of impassioned prey and predator, circling…seducing. Step-step, pause…step-step, pause.

Somehow her feet followed the beat. Somehow her body followed his lead, for Lola’s mind was too swept away to be of any assistance.

Were people really standing along the sideline, watching them? Did she look as perfect with Rio as this felt? It was a heady sensation, to merely let go and let this man take control of her with the power of those eyes. Eyes focused only on her.

And yet, Rio’s gaze wasn’t domineering or arrogant, like someone else’s she knew—some Greek guy whose name escaped her now.

Around each other they went, circling and swaying. Her fingertips remained lightly against his palms so he could have his way—so Rio could lead her into another step pattern without saying a word. Why and how their bodies brushed and then parted, Lola didn’t know. There was only the throb of the bass pulse and the whisper of the cymbals, and her hips found the rhythm as though she’d been born dancing this way.

The music ended, and Rio grabbed her hand. Quickly skirting the crowd, he led her through a door marked STAFF ONLY. As if that weren’t enough to set her her heart racing, he whisked her down the short corridor and into a service elevator.

As its door closed, he smiled tightly. Punched the highest button.

“I saw Aric coming toward us, probably on orders from the captain.” He stepped close enough that his knee parted her thighs, pressing her against the cool steel wall. “Why waste a woman like you on a kid like him?”

For a fleeting moment Lola thought he was calling Skorpio a kid, but she got so caught up in watching his lips—in catching that faint hint of liquor and smoke on his breath—that the words lost their meaning.

She did recall, however, that this was a change in course for the security agent. And not a safe one.

“But if Skandalis catches us—he was watching—”

“Yes, he was,” Rio said with a happy snap of those eyes, “and if ever there was a man who wished he were holding you so close and so—but that’s too damn bad! I say we give him a run for his money—if that’s what you want, Lola mia.”

Her sigh escaped with a little hiss as he moved in for the kiss she could already taste. Her eyes fluttered shut. She lifted her face to bask in the glow of him, parting her lips—

But Rio pulled away. Just enough that his question quivered between them in the dim, airless elevator. The shine of his eyes hypnotized her. She sucked air, struggling to think. What was it he’d asked her?

Whatever Lola wants….

And what did she want? In the whirlwind of being ditched by Dennis Fletcher and then tormented by Skorpio’s sensual power plays in the spa and the ballroom, she felt more alive than she had in months. Felt open to the adventure sparkling in Rio DeSilva’s attentive eyes.

The elevator door slid open, punctuating his unspoken call to choose her fate.