Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) (14 page)

He caught her hand and pulled her closer. He looked at her and quirked his eyebrow. “I know. It makes us a pretty good pair, doesn’t it?”

He planted a long, delicious kiss on her lips before she could say anything. Then he pulled back, rose, and turned. She was going to make her comeback when he let the white towel drop to the floor, and he walked away in all his glorious nakedness. She stared at the way his backside begged to be touched, the way the muscles of his back rippled. The words vanished.

When he reached the closet door and opened it, he glanced over his shoulder. “You aren’t looking at my ass, are you?”

She turned at least fifty shades of red because he knew as well as she did that was exactly what she was doing.

“I plead the fifth,” she said and, with the sheet wrapped around herself, she rushed into the bathroom to claim it for herself.

“Aw, c’mon,” he said as she closed the door. “I showed you mine. The least you could do is return the favor.”

It should have added to her embarrassment, but all she could do was grin.

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26

By the time Melanie had dressed, dried her hair, and headed down to the kitchen to find something to eat, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the house. She followed it like a bee to pollen.

Taz was sitting at the center island, finishing a plate of toast slathered with butter and strawberry jam.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said when he saw her.

She craned her neck around, looking to see if they were alone.

“Don’t worry. The she-wolf isn’t around. She’s off doing God-knows-what.”

Melanie breathed easier. So it would be just the two of them for a little while longer. Perfect.

“There’s practically a full pot in there for you.” He took the last bite of toast and deposited his plate in the sink. She saw his coffee was loaded in a travel mug.

“You going somewhere?” she asked.

“Yeah, Garrett wants to do a sound check at the hotel before the party preppers go crazy.”

The party. Damn, with all that had happened last night, she’d forgotten about the Pandemonium Ball.

“Cool,” she said. “I have a lot to do, too.”

“Well, I think you’ll have the place to yourself. Gina said she’ll meet us there.”

A welcome relief.

“So are you going to give me at least a hint about your costume?”

She smiled deviously. “No way! But I think you’ll like it.”

“That certainly whets the appetite.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll be back about four to pick you up. Think you’ll be ready?”

“I’ll be ready.”

He bent to peck her lips then paused and instead planted a longer, deeper kiss that made her toes curl. “Bye,” he said and walked out the door.

“Bye,” she whispered to his back and waited until she heard the front door shut to do her victory dance.

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27

The rest of Melanie’s day was spent in a wonderful, leisurely fog. She practiced until every limb ached then climbed into bed for a nap with Spike cradled beside her. When she awoke, she slipped into a long, hot bath. And the whole time, her mind kept drifting back to the wonderful night before.

She should probably call Abby and confess she’d been right. But there was plenty of time for that. Right now it was fun having this wonderful thing all to herself. Just for a little while longer.

By the time Taz returned at four, she was waiting in the living room, standing at the back window that looked out toward the Pacific.

She waited for him to look up from the mail he was thumbing through before she said hello. When his eyes caught hers and widened, she let a slow, sexy smile creep across her face. This was the reaction she’d been hoping for.

Without a word, she glided forward in long, stage-worthy strides, lifting her arms to make the drape of white chiffon attached to her upper arms and wrists billow and flutter against the matching circle skirt. She dipped and spun, letting him take in her whole appearance: the vintage-styled hair, the smoky makeup, the bra and belt, thick with sequins and jewels that shone like polished onyx. She pressed up against him, her lips coming to rest just beneath his.

“So, what do you think?”

“You look like you stepped out of one of those Samia Gamal movies.”

She pumped her fist in victory. “Yes! I knew you’d get it.” She twisted and fluttered her arms. “The chiffon is straight out of
The Glass and the Cigarette,
but the rest is my own tribal touch.” She brushed her hand lightly over the bits of embroidered glass called
shisha
, the cowrie shells, tiny tassels, and assorted bits of chunky Bedouin jewelry covering her bra and belt, and her headband—all black, gray, and white to give the illusion she was an image captured on the silver screen.

“I like it,” he whispered, his voice rough.

He raised his hands to her hips and bent his head to kiss her, but she slipped out of reach before he could.

“Hey,” he said with a frown.

“Sorry,” she said. “The makeup is pretty sturdy, but it’ll smudge if I’m not careful. Actually, I need your help with my back.” It had taken nearly an hour to get the application just right to cover her natural skin color. She’d had to use extra to cover her tattoos. She’d managed a nice blend on all the parts of herself she could see and reach, but there was a patch between her shoulder blades she couldn’t get to. She grabbed the bottle of light gray from the table, handed it to him with a small sponge, and turned her back to him.

“So this is all I get to touch, all night?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“That’s not fair, you know.”

“Last time I checked, life wasn’t fair. Please try to blend it evenly, if you can. It’s a little tricky.”

In a moment she felt the cool touch of the paint on her skin and his fingers brushing in slow, smooth strokes.

“What’s with the goosebumps?” he said softly. He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck.

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Make lathering on skin paint sexy.”

“I guess it’s a gift.”

She smiled and resisted the temptation to break her own no-touching rule.

“Okay, looks good,” he said. He pulled his hand away, and she felt the absence suddenly, like a splash of cold water.

In fact, a cold shower was exactly what she needed to get herself composed again. Since that wasn’t in the cards, she’d have to make do with the time it took him to get changed to get herself together.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked and picked up his keys.

She frowned. “Didn’t you forget something?”

He shook his head.

“Your costume?” she pressed. “You haven’t changed yet.”

“Oh, that,” he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a mask. It was covered in black satin and shaped to cover half his face. He slid it over his head, and with his white tunic, he looked like a reverse
Phantom of the Opera
. He spread out his arms. “Ta-da!”

“You’re kidding me,” she said.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“It’s not that. You look good. It’s just not fair. This”—she gestured around herself—“took hours. That took you two seconds.”

He smirked devilishly. “Funny, last time I checked, life wasn’t fair.”

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28

Melanie had to admit, driving to downtown Los Angeles in Taz’s Porsche was nothing like driving up in her old Honda. Not only did people slow down and make room in the lane when Taz put on his blinker, instead of speeding up and riding the bumper of the vehicle in front of them as they usually did, but they also smiled. The tipped their chins with respect as he passed. They were friendly.

The best part was pulling up to The Victorian Hotel, an older but still regal building in LA’s downtown district. The valet parking attendant didn’t grudgingly approach the car. The guy actually jogged over to open her door and offer a hand.

“Welcome to The Victorian, miss. Are you here for the ball?”

“We are,” she answered, trying to stifle the grin burning inside her.

“If there’s anything we can do to make your visit more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” she said as she stood a little straighter and a little prouder. So this is what it was like for the other half? Not bad.

“Looks like we aren’t too early.” Taz dipped his head toward the costumed crowd lingering near the entrance. He came up to her and slipped his hand around to the small of her back and rested it on her belt.

The simple gesture gave her tingles all over again. It surprised her how natural it felt. She stared at her gray arms, her gray, bare midriff. Damn, body paint. She wanted to nuzzle against him, to feel the warmth of him, but she couldn’t without ruining all her hard work.

“You look fantastic, by the way,” he whispered in her ear. “Did I already tell you that?”

“You did, but don’t let that stop you.”

“That’s my girl.”

There it was again. That lush, warm sensation radiating through her.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s check out the party.”

A liveried doorman swung open the brass-and-glass door for them, and Melanie nearly gasped. The lobby would have been right at home in a European palace. It was exquisite, with all its marble, polished wood, and shiny brass.

Still, the hotel paled in comparison to the crowd. As they made their way through the lobby, they passed a sea of wild characters. It was like a Tim Burton film collided with an Anne Rice novel, with touches of
Lord of the Rings
and
Star Wars
. She slowed to avoid stepping on a woman’s train assembled entirely of peacock feathers and jostled out of the way of a woodland nymph carrying two plastic cups filled with a neon-blue liquor and glowing swizzle sticks.

“Love the costume. Silver screen. Very cool,” the nymph whispered as she passed.

“Thanks,” Melanie said.

Taz bypassed the line where new arrivals were checking in and found a table where a single person sat with a sign reading Talent Check-In. He stepped up and handed over a card.

The young man, dressed like he was on his way to a Renaissance faire, handed back two purple wristbands. “All-access. Have fun.”

“We intend to, thanks,” Taz said. He put one on Melanie’s wrist and then his own.

“So we’re official now?” she asked.

“We’re official.” He winked. “C’mon, you’re going to love this.” He opened the door to the ballroom.

The music that had been thumping through the walls spilled out like a tsunami, a bass-heavy electronic beat that penetrated every move and thought. It was impossible not to bob or sway, and in her mind she was already dancing to its rhythm.

But Taz was on the move. He put his hand on the back of her belt again and guided her deeper into the darkened ballroom, where candelabras flickered with LED flames and bright electric colors chased each other over the crowd.

He was heading toward the long bar when he leaned down and said over the cacophony of music and voices, “I see Garrett. I’ll introduce you.”

She stared at a woman walking by who was dressed in a shimmering, barely-there toga and wearing a headdress like a golden silk starfish on her head. Amazing.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s great.” The way she was feeling, she would have said yes to anything. It was intoxicating being here, like she’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole and found herself in some kind of make-believe world. It was like a dream, like a big, wonderful dream she never wanted to leave.

She followed behind Taz, watching the parade of beautiful freaks, smiling at the medieval knight and lady cheetah, the Willy Wonka lookalike and the warrior princess. When they stopped in front of a man whose only remarkable quality was his impossible likeness to a young David Bowie, she nearly laughed.

Taz clasped the man around the shoulders and gave him a brotherly embrace.

“Garrett, this is the friend I was telling you about. This is Melanie.”

Garrett reached out and took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Melanie,” he said, his crisp British accent giving the words a stoic formality. “I understand we’ll be seeing you at the audition.”

Her giddiness vanished, and the importance of the meeting hit her like a concrete block. “Yes, you will. I’m, uh, I’m really looking forward to it.”

Oh, God. Could she be any lamer?

“It’s refreshing to see someone so confident,” he said and glanced at Taz.

“She has every reason to be confident,” Taz piped in. “She’s good. Really good.”

Wow, did he really think so? He’d never told her that. She was about to thank him when a trio of young women approached, dressed as tribal belly-dancing fairies. Melanie recognized them all as Belly Dance Divas who had performed at the Shimmy Shop’s fund-raising showcase last month.