“Come on. You can’t sit here all night, nursing that nasty diet cola by yourself. Come and dance with me.” Making sure I could not refuse her, Jill grabbed my hands and practically dragged me to my feet. She bounced through the crowd toward the dance floor, her sways and steps keeping time with the music pounding through the club. Me, I walked behind her, aware of every set of male eyes that landed upon me.
Jill stopped at the outer edge of the dance floor and turned to face me as she started dancing. If she meant for me to stand out there, where I would be on full display, it wasn’t happening. I wriggled between her and another girl who was gyrating against a tall guy with full sleeves of tattoos, took a spot where I wouldn’t be so out in the open, and started moving to the music.
While I wasn’t interested in gaining any man’s attention tonight, I did love to dance. It didn’t take long for the music’s deep base to throb through my body. I closed my eyes against the blinking glare of the dance lights and let the beat carry me away.
I felt free. And sexy. And alive.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten how to dance,” Jill shouted over the ear-splitting music.
“Never.”
One song blended into another, and then we were swaying and spinning to a faster dance tune. Before I’d started seeing Shane, dancing had been one of my favorite things to do. Instantly, I was swept up in the rhythm. Sweat trickled down my temples. The hair at my nape clung to my neck. And my heartbeat sped up, pounding hard and fast, almost in time with the beat.
Wow, did this feel great. I’d almost forgotten how much fun it was to just let go and dance. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, making me feel almost high. A new song started playing and my movements adjusted, picking up the faster tempo. My body temperature rose even higher.
A guy stepped up behind Jill and started dancing next to her. She angled toward me, dancing while looking over her shoulder at him. I watched as the music thrummed on, their dance becoming more intimate with each passing beat. Before the end of the song he had an arm wrapped around her waist and he was holding her against him, their movements perfectly synchronized. The song ended, and the next started. A slower song. Jill twisted around to face her partner. I stepped around them, ready to head back to the table after a quick stop at the bar for something cold to drink.
It took some side-stepping and lots of “excuse-mes” to get up to the bar. Wedging myself between two barstools with patrons sitting in them, I planted a foot on the brass footrest and waited for the bartender to notice me.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Expecting Jill, I said, as I glanced over my shoulder, “Want something to drink?”
“No thank you,” was the answer.
That wasn’t Jill.
The voice was too low. And it belonged to a male. A male I kind of recognized but couldn’t place.
“Bristol?” the slightly familiar man asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said as I turned to face him.
“I thought I recognized you.” He extended a hand. “Russell Grant.”
“Russell Grant,” I repeated as I tried (and failed) to remember how we knew each other. My gaze meandered over his face. Deep brown eyes. Olive skin. Dark, dark hair.
“I suppose I should be disappointed that you don’t recognize me, but I can’t really blame you. It’s been a while since we met. And you probably weren’t paying much attention to me then. I was your mother’s physician. When she was in the hospital.”
“Ah. That was a while ago. You have a good memory. Obviously, I don’t.”
He rested a hand on the bar, his body angled toward mine. He was a nice looking man. His hair reminded me of Shane’s. It was wavy and thick, silky. He had a really great smile. He also smelled very nice. But wow, was he big. I didn’t remember him being so tall and…imposing before. “You’re not an easy woman to forget.”
Oh gosh. He’s flirting with me.
If there’d been any room, even an inch, I would have moved away from him. But I was wedged between two stools. He was crowding me from the front, and behind me was the bar. There was not even a fraction of an inch to spare.
He waved to the bartender. “Are you here alone?”
“No, I’m here with a friend.” Since I couldn’t put any more space between us, I turned my body toward the bar and spoke over my shoulder.
“I see.” His gaze flicked around, no doubt searching for the friend.
“She’s dancing,” I told him.
“She is? Then she won’t mind if I buy you a drink?”
“No, she wouldn’t mind, but I’m the designated driver. So no, thanks.”
“Can’t I get you something cold at least? You look a little warm.”
No doubt I did. Sweat was dribbling down the side of my face. I could just imagine what my makeup looked like. It was a wonder he’d recognized me at all, especially considering the number of people he probably met at the hospital on a daily basis. It was an even bigger mystery how he found me attractive. I grabbed a napkin off the bar and dabbed at my face. “I am warm—“
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Diet cola, please. Lots of ice.”
An arm stretched across my side. In the hand was a twenty dollar bill. “I’ll take a Lambrucha,” Russell said as he handed the bill to the bartender.
“Okay.” The bartender waved the bill. “I’ll get your change.”
“Keep it,” Russell told him.
“Thanks.” The grateful bartender filled a glass with ice, to the top.
I twisted to smile over my shoulder at Russell while the bartender dispensed my cola and fetched a bottle of beer from the cooler. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” After reaching past me to grab his beer and my cola, he tipped his head to the side. “Want to go find a quiet table somewhere so we can talk?”
“I…” I glanced at the dance floor. Jill was still doing the bump and grind with her new friend. She didn’t look too concerned about where I’d gone.
That left me in a bad spot. Russell had bought me a drink. Granted, outside of a glass of water, it didn’t get much cheaper than a cola. Still, it would be rude to turn down his invitation. I just had to make sure to let him know I wasn’t interested in anything beyond a short getting-caught-up chat. “Sure,” I said.
He looped his arm through mine. “It’s crowded. I don’t want to lose you again.” He pushed between two large men, his body like one of those big ice-busting boats, clearing a path through the thick, sweaty throng. He located a table not far from the entrance and, after setting down our drinks, pulled out a chair for me. Once I sat, he folded his thick frame into the chair across from me and smiled over the lip of his bottle. His eyes were sparkly. I knew what that look meant. “You look great, Bristol.”