Leaving Normal (17 page)

Natalie turned toward them and walked across the ballroom.

She looked up, saw Tony, and her eyes met his. Her lips looked fuller, pinker.

"Hello," she greeted. "I saw you were on the program. You're brave." She spoke with an easy lightness, a tone he'd never heard her use before.

"Not brave," Rocky interjected. "Good sports." Then he extended his hand. "Rockland Massaro, but you can call me Rocky." She shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I can be bought for cheap, honey," Rocky said, encouraging Natalie to bid on him.

Tony slanted Ms friend a look, wishing he wouldn't have said that, but didn't utter anything to the contrary.

Tony and Natalie exchanged a brief glance. There was something more to the visual exchange than he could identify. Maybe, for a moment, she was thinking about bidding on him.

Diamond earrings dangled from Natalie's ears. She wore a delicate necklace that hung low on a chain. The jewelry rested next to her skin where her breasts created a shadowed valley in the black fabric that was cut low. She showed a lot of skin—skin that looked soft and golden and very feminine. She wore a distinct perfume—not flowers exactly but maybe a trace. She almost smelled like limes. Limes and something really sweet. Whatever it was, he was very aware of how it clung to her warmth.

Natalie said, "Well, I should go—"

"How's your daughter?" Tony asked, dragging a subject from his mind that he knew would engage her in conversation. He didn't want her to leave, not yet.

"Cassie's doing well, thanks." Her green eyes were large, the lashes long and her makeup applied heavier than usual. Instead of looking overdone, it looked good. Exotic almost. "I talked to her yesterday. School is good, she's having fun."

An announcer began speaking through the microphone and asked everyone to take their seats.

"I'm going to sit down." She smiled, a smile that hit Tony hard. "Good luck to you. Thanks for doing this."

"Remember—I can be had for cheap," Rocky said, "but if you have deep pockets, I'm worth it."

Being a good sport, she laughed. Tony wondered if she'd take his friend up on his suggestion and bid on him.

Natalie sat at a table near the front. Tony sat wood-enly in his chair at a table he and Rocky had been assigned to, drank half his beer in long swallows, then loosened his tie some more. He couldn't recall the last time he'd worn the double-breasted dark suit, and couldn't recall when he'd last felt like ditching an obligation.

It was all he could do not to drum his fingers on the tabletop in edgy-nervous anticipation. After introductory speeches, the auction started and went on far too long before it got to the bachelors.

He had to stand up, walk onto the stage and smile as if he meant it. The strong floodlights rendered him almost blind to the sea of faces gazing at him. He was very conscious of where Natalie sat, and didn't want to look in her direction. To everyone in the room, he gave the illusion of confidence and easygoing masculinity, but in reality he was willing himself not to sweat.

In what felt like long and agonizing minutes to-get through, Tony Cruz "sold" to the highest bidder, a woman he couldn't see because she sat at the back of the crowded room and the lights drowned any image of her.

Now he had to go on a date of her choosing and they would have to dance the first dance of the evening after all the auctions were completed. He had never been a great ballroom dancer. His mom had made him take private lessons before going to his prom so he could at least waltz without stepping on his girlfriend's feet. He was no dancer—he'd played football in high school and college.

Rocky Massaro went for a little less than Tony, his winning bidder a nice-looking redhead at the next table over. Rocky got a stupid smile on his face, one he held on to until die music started playing and he escorted the lady onto the dance floor. If he was disappointed Natalie didn't make an offer on him, he didn't show it.

Tony stood and waited for whoever had won him to come forward.

A moment later, a throaty voice greeted him.

"Hello."

Tony's breathing slowing. The woman standing before him had an amazing presence, dressed in floor-length red satin and black heels. She was in her mid-thirties with long dark hair and a gorgeous mouth. She reminded him of Salma Hayek.

"Hey," he said, lifting his chin and turning on his best smile.

"I won you. You're mine."

He gave a light laugh, a slight shrug. "Well, okay."

The live band played an old tune, one that Tony didn't recognize.

"My name is Sophia. Have you heard of me?" Her eyes turned up slightly at the corners, their color a rich earthy brown.

"Should I have?"

"I own Sophia-Sophia. It's a ladies' clothing store on Bannock."

"I don't wear ladies' clothes."

She threw her head back and laughed, her throat an ivory column that captured his attention. The sound of her voice was low and sensual. She laid a perfumed hand on his shoulder, her fingernails painted red to match her dress. "Dance with me."

Maybe it was the way she took command with a rare self-assurance that had him following while she led the way to the dance floor. Perhaps there was a trace of ego involved—his. Or maybe it was because she had paid for the right.

Being won by a beautiful woman for the night was something he'd never experienced before.

He quickly discovered that he liked it.

Music drifted around Natalie, making her feel isolated and alone at the table while others danced. She was sorry that Sarah had been unable to come with her tonight. Her sister had had to go to a school event with her girls. Even the youthful Meagan would have been nice to sit and socialize with, but the clerk had had other plans for tonight.

So Natalie sat there, the table empty, wineglasses empty, and those who had been around her out on the dance floor.

She caught sight of Tony and a woman in red as they danced past.

Seeing him with the stunningly beautiful woman, Natalie wasn't prepared for the pang of something un-definable to assail her. She didn't want to consider it jealousy…envy, maybe.

She envied that woman.

Natalie's gaze connected with every place the couple touched. Their hands, their bodies, their legs as they moved flawlessly in unison.

Her breathing shortened, her muscles grew tense and in some place deep inside her she felt a void.

Stupid.

Why was she suddenly feeling so lost, so alone sitting by herself?

The dance ended and Tony's date—Natalie assumed she was the woman who'd won him—appeared quite content. When the bidding had ended, Natalie had tried to get a look at the woman who'd bought Tony for the evening, but the crowd had disbursed on the dance floor and the room had been pressed too tight with couples for her to get a look at anything.

Now she wished she hadn't seen Tony at all.

Natalie felt self-conscious sitting all by herself. She'd just decided to leave, call the evening to an end, when Tony's voice came to her ears.

"The flowers you did for this evening look great."

Her chin shot up. "Oh…thank you."

Tony smelled incredibly masculine, wonderfully clean and musky. She'd noticed it before when they'd been talking earlier.

She thought he looked good beyond words in his suit. She never imagined he'd wear one so well. Of course he was Tony Cruz—anything he did seemed to be larger than life, and the simple suit and tie only enhanced his presence.

"Where's your date?" she asked, angry with herself for even voicing what she was wondering.

"The ladies' room." His eyes held hers. "Let's dance," he suggested, extending his hand.

A thread of panic wound around her, and she took a quick breath. "I wouldn't want your date—"

"Sophia's not my date. I came alone and I'll go home alone."

Sophia
. Even the name was intriguing.

Her reluctance was met by a grasp of her hand and, the next thing she knew, she was being coaxed to her feet and led onto the dance floor.

Beside herself, she was in Tony's strong arms being turned around a parquet floor.

Over the strains of the music, he said, "You look amazing."

"Thank you," she murmured, not liking that he could so easily make her feel so nervous. This was ridiculous. The reaction she had toward him, as always, made her very aware she was female and he was male. There was no denying he was masculine beyond belief, so handsome he took coherent thoughts right out of her head, but that was no reason to get silly about it.

"I like your dress." His eyes were dark, a serious depth to the brown color as his gaze lowered and he made no attempt to hide his appreciation for her cleavage.

"Thank you," she repeated automatically. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, "You look wonderful."

"You think?"

"You know you do." She tried to put a teasing tone in her voice, anything to alleviate the butterflies swimming in her stomach.

"Yeah, maybe I look okay."

"More than that, and every woman in this room has probably told you as much."
_v

"Sophia said I look like James Bond."

Amusement stretched a smile on Natalie's mouth. Sophia was trying hard to stroke his ego—not that he needed it. "I wouldn't go that far."

"So, are you a Brosnan or Connery fan?"

"Connery, of course. He was hot in
Medicine Man
."

"You think?"

"I just said so, didn't I?" she bantered.

"Yeah, you did." His smile went straight to her heart.

She was very conscious of the feel of his muscles. Tony was solid, strong, and he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence. He was big and powerful, the rich outlines of his shoulders straining in the wool fabric of his suit. The white of his evening shirt was bright, the collar crisp. She liked his tie; it had a geometric pattern in hues of green and blue with a light dash of red.

She had to tilt her head back to get a full view of his face because he stood a good head taller than her.

The way he held himself, she couldn't help but notice every facet about him. His eyes, his nose, his face. The way his mouth curved, the faint scar at his temple where his eyebrow ended.

His black hair gleamed under the ballroom lights, cut short and neat. He had a rugged power that captivated her in ways that got to her. Why he did this she could only speculate…and she didn't like the answer.

He was her best fantasy come true.

There was something about him that drew her interest, sparked the sexual desire in her that could lead to poor judgment.

Eventually, when she was ready to be in a relationship, she wanted a good sex life and, in fact, thought more about it at her age than she had in her twenties or thirties. Maybe it was because she was settled in her early forties that she was willing to speak her mind now, willing to tell her partner exactly what she liked, what she wanted. Looking back at Greg, their sex life had been fine for the most part, but she hadn't always been the most uninhibited unless she'd had a few glasses of wine.

Strange that now she was discovering her sexuality, she had no one to explore it with.

Looking at Tony, she could imagine him naked, sprawled across her bed on the sheets…reposed and relaxed, waiting for her to join him and—

"I didn't expect to see you here tonight," Natalie said, willing illicit thoughts away.

"Why's that?"

"I didn't think you were a bachelor."

"I am as of last week."

"Everything went well?"

"It was all right." A distant expression caught on his facial features, his nostrils slightly flaring.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His eyes fell on hers, locking her into a gaze that was both riveting and disarming. "I'm just fine."

The music ended and Natalie backed out of his hold.

She quelled the impulse to slip her arms around his waist, rest her cheek next to his chest, then tip her chin up and seek his mouth for a kiss. Instead she said in a somewhat shaky tone, "Thanks for the dance."

"Anytime."

His voice was smooth, his body language even smoother. He shifted his weight, his arms by his sides, his hands big and wide.

In a low voice, he added, "I wish it had been you who had bid on me and won. I could dance with you all night."

Before she could reply, Tony disappeared into the crowd.

His comment was unnerving, yet exciting. The implication set off warning bells inside her mind, things she should ignore but didn't. Not right away.

For a scant few seconds, she let herself envision what it would be like to be held in his arms for the rest of the night.

With a blink of her eyes, she released those thoughts.

She was gun-shy about dating these days, very reticent about getting involved. Her track record wasn't very good, and falling for someone was low on her pri-ority list—and barely even on the list at all. She had way too much going on.

Besides, he was too young for her; even though he did seem mature. Then again, he hadn't been divorced long enough to know what he wanted.

Steeling her resolve, she made a decision.

She had to blow the pilot light out before any kind of flame could be lit. Getting involved with him would only mean sure heartache.