Secrets (16 page)

“I know. I know how you feel about Angie. It’s one of the most admirable qualities of yours.”

“Oh, yeah? Here and I thought it was my mannish good looks. Come on, Sarah, you can do better than that.”

She rolled her eyes.

He noticed and smiled. “Hey, really, thanks for including Angie with all this, especially getting ready. You should have heard her gushing about you and your friends. She was really turned on by all this, which is a nice change from her usual apathetic, I-don’t-care, attitude.”

“Yeah, sure, anything for her. It seems she’s not the only one turned on by all this,” Sarah mumbled more to herself than Scott.

“Why? You are too?” The grin was back.

“No,” she said sharply, ignoring his suggestive tone. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your whatever.”

“What are you being so uptight about?” he said as she started to turn and flee.

She turned back. He casually set his drink down and stood up, blocking out the rest of the room from her view. The lights shined off his head, rimming him in red fire.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been running all around this party for a couple of hours now, seeing to every conceivable detail, and problem. Isn’t there a wedding coordinator for that?”

“I know what’s what. Sometimes it’s easier to do it myself. That doesn’t make me uptight.”

“Sure, it does. Delegate, especially when it’s not your job. Your job is to be a bridesmaid.”

“You know what? Being responsible doesn’t make me uptight.”

“It’s a party. Dance with me.”

“No. I don’t dance.”

“Sure you do, everybody dances.”

“I don’t. I’m not very good at it.”

He flashed a grin at her. “Oh, I see. If you’re not dance competition good enough, why bother doing something? Can’t do it unless you’re the best, huh?”

“I’m not uptight, damn it.” She enunciated slowly, through gritted teeth.

“Prove it. Dance with me.”

“Will it make you shut up and quit provoking me?”

“It might.”

“Fine,” she said as she whipped around and stomped out to the dance floor. “Now what?”

He easily wrapped two arms around her waist and drew her forward toward him. “Now you try something new. Let someone else lead for a change.”

Sarah didn’t go so far as to relax in Scott’s arms, more like she tolerated standing there and swaying gently to the soft, sad song. All around them other couples did the same. Sarah rarely danced at parties. She was usually in charge of them, or wishing she was as she critiqued others’ work. For that’s what she saw in parties, more events than fun.

And Scott obviously saw fun, lots and lots of fun. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his easygoing ways. So now, here she was, somehow stuck so close to him she could smell his aftershave. And damn, if she had to make a conscious effort to stop herself from breathing in deeply.

She was reasonably content after a few moments. She was nearly able to keep up with Scott’s few foot movements, but then the song ended. Something faster came on. Sarah straightened and pushed away from Scott. She was disappointed, she had almost been ready to try and enjoy dancing with him. She was even almost over being mad at him for that girl Tawny and his hand on her ass for all those songs. At least he hadn’t dared try that with
her
.

Then again, why didn’t he try it on her? What was so wrong with her he couldn’t seem to make himself treat her how he treated every other woman he crossed? She sighed, turning to exit the dance floor. Scott grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him.

“Where are you going?”

“The song ended.”

“Well, here’s a new one.”

“I can’t dance to this.” Her eyes rounded in horror.

“‘The Love Shack?’ Everyone can dance to this. Even you.”

“No, I can’t,” she insisted, nearly in a panic that someone would look and see her moving to this. She couldn’t take that embarrassment. Especially with Scott looking on.

“Move around, Sarah. It’s about as simple as that.”

“It’s not that easy for me. Just leave me alone.” She spun away from him.

He got in front of her so quickly she stumbled right into him. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. Not like before, but grinding close, middle to middle close. He nearly had her pinned against him keeping her from escaping.

Their eyes met. He leaned down and said softly into her ear, “Now you move.”

He could dance. There was no denying it. She’d watched him enough earlier to know he could move and twist with the exact rhythm of the song and look cool doing it. Look sexy. Look just how a person was supposed to look. Not like her. Awkward, stiff, and her total excruciating lack of rhythm apparent in her every jerky try she’d ever attempted at dancing. She couldn’t dance. And she wasn’t the type who could go about dancing anyway. She couldn’t handle people laughing at her. Why was he pressing this? He literally had her pressed against him.

“Start by relaxing your body. Kind of find the beat and sway with it. Quit thinking out every reason of why you can’t. Quit thinking so hard.”

She gave in only so far as to unclench her muscles, and then went so far as to tap her feet.

“Now, come closer to me, and move relatively at the same time as me. There, now look, we’re dancing. I told you it’s easy. Don’t worry. No one’s studying you to give you a score for technical expertise and presentation. God, Sarah, it’s just a dance at your best friend’s wedding. Try having some fun for once.”

Easy for him to say. For once? What did he know about how fun she was?

Fun wasn’t exactly the word she’d use to describe this dance with him. It was almost better than any foreplay she could remember. His arms tightly surrounded her, his hands were on her hips, and moving with the silk of her dress. The heat of his hands molded her dress over her skin. He filled her senses in every way. His body was all she was conscious of.

She liked the dancing. She relaxed more and moved closer, instead of away from him, so her movements were almost in tune with his. Almost in precision of hips swaying together and hitting in a sensual beat of regularity. No wonder people decided to get drunk and make fools of themselves on dance floors every weekend. If it felt like this every time, why wouldn’t they? She hadn’t known.

“That’s better. Now that you’ve let the steel out of your spine, we can dance,” he said into her ear. What did he mean, weren’t they dancing?

No, he had moves. Actual moves. He seemed to know real dance steps, and could almost lead her in them, could almost make her look good trying to keep up. He spun her around, in tune to the beat. Fast and yet controlled, he brought her back against him. He could expertly dance, as much as she could not. His comfort, his confidence, was as sexy as moving near him was. Another song came on, this one current, hip hop, sexy in lyrics and beat. She glanced around. She was keeping up this time, and looked almost like the other people dancing around her. Except that if Scott let her go, she’d probably fall over.

And it was seriously fun. She rarely noticed music, or that her body could actually feel the music, respond to it, and enjoy it. Not like this. Not this free, not this sensual, and so un-Sarah like.

Another song came on, still he didn’t let go, or let up on her. She was by no means getting any better at it, no matter how it looked. She was relaxed and almost pliant under his guidance.

Finally, a slow song came on He brought her against his body, close enough that she was now wrapped in his arms, their legs nearly twined together, as they swayed. She was hot and sweating. Would he notice? How could he not though? She was too close for him not to. What would he think? Then again he was warm too, warmer than when they had started.

What could she say to this? Think about this dancing? What did it mean? Something. It must mean something. To feel this good, this close, nearly this intimately connected to another person, to have this much fun, it must mean something.

“And here you had me convinced you didn’t dance. Can I cut in?”

Sarah nearly groaned out loud with dismay when Brett’s voice came up behind her. No. No. No. Damn it. Once…just once in her life she wanted to be right here in the moment, without thinking about how she looked, how others saw her, or what she should or should not be doing. And she can’t even have that? No! Brett interrupts what is an obviously close dance. It wasn’t like they were dancing how Scott would dance with Angie. Scott lifted his head up, his breath which had been warm on her neck left her cool. Cold air settled over her front as he pushed space between them. Then he stopped dancing.

“Sure. Be my guest,” Scott said as he completely let her go, turned and left. He walked through the crowd to his table, grabbed his drink and sat down. She stood there staring after him. She felt bereft, as if they’d just jumped out of a plane, and he’d walked away without even acknowledging it. He’d walked away as if this whole thing meant nothing to him. He obviously didn’t feel this churning, intense attraction, this nearly fire-hot, molten attraction that had been heating through her.

She was an idiot, and as silly and stupid as the girl stood up at her own prom. She spent her life trying not to feel insignificant. And yet, she was just that, insignificant to Scott.

A country song started. She slowly turned toward Brett, wishing she could skewer him over a fire pit. What the hell had made him interrupt them? What did Brett care who she danced with? Brett took Scott’s place, his arms around her loose and not nearly as satisfying.

“I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I don’t,” she snapped.

“Okay, sure. Then why did you just spend nearly a half hour with that guy? Who is he?”

“No one. He’s no one.”

****

Scott stared into his drink. The alcohol wasn’t helping. He downed it quickly after walking away from Sarah trying to douse the sudden fire that was engulfing his insides. A fire for Sarah Langston. That was nothing he expected. Not like this. He glanced over at her, still on the dance floor, her back to him dancing with a stupid movie star of all things.

Why had he pushed her to dance with him? In fairness he’d had no idea that her moving like that would make him react like this. Why had dancing with Sarah been different than the usual? He danced all the time, far more suggestively than that, with women wearing far less than Sarah. And all it usually did was give him a nice, generic kind of turn on. It did not cause this gut-churning sense he didn’t want to let her go. He tightened his fist, imagining the coolness of her dress under his hands, as it was warmed by her body. She’d had no idea what she was doing out there, had no confidence in him or herself. Yet, God, song after song, he’d felt addicted to touching her, holding her, moving with her.

What had that been?

Then the asshole boyfriend of hers interrupted them. Then again, why wouldn’t he? Why hadn’t the movie star cut in sooner? If Scott ever witnessed his girlfriend dancing like that with someone else, for that long, he’d be over there with a fire hose if necessary.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, he didn’t need this. Not with her. Not with Sarah. He liked her. He did. But in an abstract kind of way. A high school fantasy come true, kind of way. She was nice to his niece kind of way.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this toward her.

****

Sarah stood with the Tylers, all of them, talking and laughing, glad to be comfortable once again. Then she looked up and there was Scott close to the group which naturally opened up, and he soon joined them until somehow they were standing close by each other. Sarah glanced at him. He looked at her, and then away. She did to. What was this? What was this weird dimension that had never existed between them? And why was Scott Delano, acting almost embarrassed around her?

He was also quite nearly drunk. And charming. Oh, was Scott Delano ever charming. The group was laughing and talking, and he was right in the thick of it all. He had no trouble holding his own, joking around, sarcasm in all the right spots. Not like her, who was suddenly tongue tied with nerves.

Tawny was near him, and they were easily flirting together. Why would Scott so easily flirt with that stupid woman and not her? What was so repulsive about her that he wouldn’t even look at her like that? Smile at her like that? Leer at her like that? Not that she wanted Scott to do any of those things toward her. She was far beyond that. A self-reliant, self-supporting grown-up who didn’t resort to stupid, insipid blinking, and hair twirling at the first cute guy who gave her a stupid smile and pick up line. But…still, why did he never once even try with her?

“Why don’t you go up there?”

Sarah glanced over at Luke who was addressing Scott. Go up where for what? Sarah had tuned out the conversation lost in her own head.

“Yeah. No, thanks, Luke.”

“Oh, come on, why not, Scotty? One song?”

One song what? Dancing? Where?

“Come on the singer wants a break, and no one wants them to stop playing. Go for it.” This time it was John talking.

What was it everyone knew she didn’t?

Vanessa came walking up on the tail end of the conversation. “Come on, Scotty. Why not?”

Scott shrugged, he seemed totally at ease with whatever the topic of conversation was.

“What? Do what?” Sarah finally asked.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Kelly said smiling, giddy still with excitement, and nearly bursting with the happiness she was having that night. “Sing. We’re trying to get Scott to sing.”

“Sing?” Sarah’s eyes bugged out. “You’re not serious? Sing as in up there on stage? In front of all these people? How drunk are you?”

Finally, she made eye contact with Scott and quickly shifted her gaze away as she felt others watching them.

“Not enough.”

“Oh, I get it, Sarah doesn’t know,” Vanessa said, smiling snidely, gleefully, at Sarah.

“Know what?”

“That Scotty here can sing probably better than most recorded artists.”

“You can sing?” Sarah’s jaw dropped open. Scott Delano could sing? As in using a microphone, open his mouth and sing? She stared up at him. What had she gotten right about him? The fact that he was charming, life of the party material, who could dance, and flirt and did so with nearly every woman he found remotely attractive, wasn’t the vibe she’d first gotten off him. Everything she’d thought or she’d figured about Scott had been wrong. So sure, why wouldn’t he sing of all things? And sing, as in he could go up live, with a band, in front of a crowd.