Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) (23 page)

She pulled back.

“He told you what I said?”

“Of course he did. Wouldn’t you tell your friend?”

He had a point. She shrugged.

“At first he assumed it was because of that blog post. He tried telling me he didn’t believe it and not to worry about it. He couldn’t understand why I still wanted to quit. He said he couldn’t believe it was just the legacy album, and the only other answer he could come up with was that you dumped me after Pandemonium and the Tamara fiasco, and I was taking it badly. After your audition, he realized that wasn’t it either. That’s when he started tracking me down again. When I told him I was trying to protect him and the show from Gina, he got his lawyer on the phone.”

Her heart and head were pounding. It all made sense, but there was still one thing—one person—he hadn’t mentioned. The question eked out of her. “What about Tamara?”

He gave her a look like she’d just jumped aboard the crazy train.

“She was at your house,” she added. “You looked like you were back together.”

“What? No. My sister invited her over, but she didn’t stay. I left after you did, and she was gone when I got back. We are not getting back together. Not now, not ever.”

“What about Gina?”

“She’s gone, too. Thankfully.” He sighed. “I would never admit this to her, but in some ways, my sister was right about some things. There is more to life than drumming and performing. I don’t need her to tell me how to live my life, but I know, in the end, she has my best interests at heart.”

He stopped and shook his head. “But I’ve gotten completely off track again. What I came to say, what I came to ask, actually, is would you still consider joining the Belly Dance Divas?”

“Oh, right,” she scoffed. “Like I’m ever going to stand up in front of those judges again.”

“No, you won’t,” he said.

It wasn’t said with malice, but the words sliced through her. She dropped her glance again so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. She blinked fast, forcing them back. She forced back the lump creeping up her throat.

He must have known emotion was getting the best of her, because he stepped toward her and put his hand on her arm.

Oh, crap. Now she was playing the pity card, even though that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Get a grip, Mel. Stop acting like a baby.

“You won’t,” he said, his voice quiet and consoling. “At least I hope you won’t. Damn, this is harder than I thought it would be. See, the thing is, I need a partner in the show.”

“The show? But you quit. What about your album?”

“I did quit, and I am going to do the album. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Garrett made me an offer. He said he respects the fact that I want to cut back my involvement in the show, but that it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. He asked if I’d like to stay on as partner and do just one drum solo per show. In exchange, I get to keep my stake in the show, and he’ll help me promote the album when it’s done.”

“But I thought you used the money to buy the masters.”

He sighed again. “Yeah, I did. But I really wanted back in the show, so I found the money.”

“
Found
money?”

He pulled a jumble of keys out of his front pocket and clicked a key fob. The lights on an old, weather-beaten, soft-top Jeep flashed in the parking lot.

“Sheila’s gone?”

He nodded. “Sitting pretty in a tax lawyer’s Newport Beach garage.”

He was smiling, but she could see the pain on his face. That breakup was going to sting for a while.

“It sounds like everything worked out, then,” she said. It really was great. It was everything he wanted, even if it meant giving up his most prized possession.

“I get it now. You wanted me to know you’re fine. That despite my big mouth, I didn’t ruin your life.”

“No, that’s not it at all.” He took her hands and held them both. “Garrett said he wanted me to pick a dancer to dance during the solo. He said I could pick anybody.”

The air changed. The ground tilted.

“What are you saying?”

He stroked her fingers with his thumbs. “What I’m saying—what I’m asking is—will you dance with me?”

“Are you joking? This isn’t funny if this is some kind of joke.”

She tried to wrap her mind around what he was offering, but it was too good to be true. It was impossible. “So I’d be onstage with you, performing while you played?”

He nodded, and a smile slid across his face.

“I would be, like, a real Belly Dance Diva?”

He shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t be
like
a real Belly Dance Diva.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “You would
be
a Belly Dance Diva.”

His green eyes shimmered.

Her body went numb. Her mind reeled. “I would be a Belly Dance Diva,” she said emphatically. “I would be dancing with you in every show on the tour?”

“Every show.”

It was all so wonderful. All so unbelievable. She had so many questions. One stood out above the others. It was simple, and it was important. It was simply this:

“Why me?”

He smiled the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. “It’s because you get it. You get the music and the rhythm and the feel of it. You get it, just like I get it. When I played for you at the Tent, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced with another dancer. It was like we had a connection. I think I fell in love with you right then and there.”

“You did?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it surprised me, too. I didn’t want to, and then I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. I think that’s why it was so easy to push you away. Why I push everyone away. I didn’t want to be in that place where I was… where I could be hurt again. I felt like I had done that already, and it hadn’t worked so why try again. Especially when it was really obvious you didn’t feel the same way—”

“But I did,” she blurted. “I mean, I do feel the same way.” She threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and holding him like she was never going to let him go.

The shock of it surprised him, but slowly she felt his arms drape over her, his hands working their way through her hair.

She stared at him, and he stared back with love in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, tentative and almost choked with emotion.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She proved it with a big kiss on his lips.

|
48 Epilogue

The red-velvet curtain of the La Regina Playhouse rose to reveal Taz Roman bare-chested but for a Bedouin-style vest and sitting on a stool, a microphone angled over his lap to catch every brush and slap of his
doumbek
. A few taps with his fingertips, then a rapid trill and the drum solo of the Los Angeles premiere of the Belly Dance Divas’ summer world tour was underway.

From the wings, a dancer appeared, covered in shimmering silver except where her tattoos played peekaboo through the draped layers of fringe scarves, bangles, and beads. At the sight of her, the sold-out crowd erupted in applause.

As the music played, it seemed to move through her. Her hips swayed, her arms and wrists floated and circled around her. And it lured her closer to Taz. To his languorous beat, she slinked and slithered toward him, like a serpent to her charmer.

“Melanie looks gorgeous up there,” gushed Janaya in the box seat she shared with Abby. “They both do. It’s like they’ve been dancing together forever. Like one of those classic couples, you know, Fred and Ginger, Judy and Mickey, and…” Her expression twisted in thought, trying to pull more names from memory.

“Samia and Farid?” Abby offered.

“Yes! Exactly. It’s so romantic, don’t you think?”

They watched Melanie circle in front of Taz, her eyes never leaving his, his never leaving hers. It was impossible to know whether it was her body leading him or his music leading her. They moved in perfect unison.

She dipped her hip and flashed him a coy glance. He played back, pausing a beat, making her wonder, then raced through the rhythm until she caught up. The sexy flirtation playing out onstage mesmerized the audience. When she laid a soft hand on his shoulder and trailed it along his arm, every rear in the house shifted in its seat, feeling that visceral connection.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Abby asked, not looking away, and smiling ear to ear with the happiness she could feel from her friend radiating from the stage.

“Of course I do,” Janaya shot back. “For the next four weeks, I have to cover Melanie’s classes and probably the boutique, too. You know what that’s going to do to my social life?”

Abby laughed. “Yeah, there’s that, but what I meant was, you’re probably next.”

“Next what?”

“Next to fall in love.”

“Oh, no way,” Janaya said, waving away the idea. “That might be fine for you and Melanie, but I am not interested.”

“Yeah,” Abby said with a sly grin. “I’ve heard that before.”

THE END

Thank You!

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Dance with Me.
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Books by DeAnna Cameron

CALIFORNIA BELLY DANCE ROMANCE SERIES

Book 1:
Shimmy for Me
(25,000 words), available now

Book 2:
Dance with Me
(52,000 words), available now

Book 3: Jingle Bells, coming soon

And still more to come!

And these stand-alone, but linked romantic historical fiction titles:

The Belly Dancer

Dancing at The Chance

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Fine Skylark Media

P.O. Box 1505

Lake Forest, California 92609-1505

Dance with Me

Copyright (c) 2015 DeAnna Cameron
ISBN: 978-0-9908146-2-7

Cover photography by Vintra via Depositphoto.com (dancer) and Illustrated Romance (male model).

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank some special people who contributed in important ways to this book:

The members of the Extraordinary Readers Club: Jasmine Talbert, Ann Johnson, Nikki, Laura, Christina, Jennifer, Michelle, Shannon, Abigail, Clarissa, and Tracy. I’m endlessly grateful to these amazing people for their help and support.

The O.C. Writers, a constant source of camaraderie and inspiration. And especially Greta Boris, my partner in crime.

My parents, Rod and Elida, and Alice and Lou, whose love and encouragement never fails.

My Chloe, who at six is already a more prolific writer than her mommy, and I couldn’t be prouder.

And finally Austin, my very own, swoonworthy hero.