And what could she do but give in to the steady, hypnotic beat and dance with him? He held her really close, sliding one thigh between hers and spinning her round, and it was his nearness rather than the dancing that took her breath away.
When he bent her back over his arm, his mouth skimmed the curve of her throat and she went hot all over. If there hadn’t been so many strangers dancing around them—if he’d danced with her like this in the privacy of their hotel suite—she knew this would’ve been the prelude to a much deeper intimacy. She could see from the expression in Roland’s dark eyes that right now he felt exactly the same way. And although part of her felt shy about it, part of her revelled in it. In being totally swept off her feet, dancing the tango by the river in Paris at night.
The music changed to a salsa—something she did know, from her aerobics classes—and Roland smiled as she segued into the step-ball-change routine, side to side and back to front.
‘What?’ she asked, aware that he was watching her.
‘It’s lovely to see you letting go,’ he said.
‘Are you saying I’m uptight?’
‘No. More that you hide yourself. But tonight you’re la belle étoile.’
Her schoolgirl French was enough to let her translate: he thought she was a beautiful star?
She realised she’d spoken aloud when he stole a kiss. ‘Right now you’re shining. And you’re beautiful.’
Tears pricked her eyelids. ‘Thank you. Merci beaucoup.’
‘Je t’en prie,’ he said, and spun her round so they could salsa together, holding her close enough at times so she could feel his arousal pressing against her, and at others standing facing her and shimmying along with her.
The DJ changed to playing slower, sultrier music, and they ended up swaying together, dancing cheek to cheek. Grace felt cherished and adored—something she wasn’t used to, and something she had a nasty feeling she could find addictive.
She really had to keep it in mind that this wasn’t real. Roland saw this as dating practice, nothing more. Wishing it could be otherwise was the quickest route to heartache. She needed to remember her fall-back position: being sensible, the way she always was.
When the music finally ended, they took the car back to their hotel.
‘That was fantastic,’ she said. ‘I enjoyed that so much.’
‘Me, too.’
‘Obviously you know the city well.’ She swallowed hard. Time for a reality check. ‘I assume you’ve done that before?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been to Paris a few times with Lynette, yes—but we didn’t stay at the hotel where we are tonight and I’m not retracing our footsteps.’
Which made her feel a bit better; and she was impressed that he realised she’d been worrying about that. ‘So how did you know about the dancing?’
‘You want the truth?’ he asked. At her nod, he laughed. ‘The Internet is a wonderful thing. I looked up romantic things to do in Paris. And that one struck me as being a lot of fun.’
‘It was.’ And she loved the fact that he’d gone to that much trouble for her. ‘Your dating skills really don’t need any practice, Roland. That’s absolutely the way to melt someone’s heart. To think about what they might like and surprise them.’
His fingers tightened around hers. ‘That’s what these couple of days are about. Exploring and having fun. I’m not trying to recreate the past. This is just you and me.’
As they pulled up at the hotel, he gestured across the river. ‘Look.’
‘The Eiffel Tower’s sparkling!’ she said in delight. ‘I had no idea it did that at night.’
‘It sparkles on the hour,’ he said.
Grace was so tempted to take a photograph of the Eiffel Tower on her phone and send it to Bella—but then her sister would call her and ask why she was in Paris, and it would get too complicated. Pushing back the wistfulness and disappointment that she couldn’t share this with the one person she knew would understand how much she was enjoying the chance to travel, she said, ‘This is just like I imagined Paris to be. The City of Light.’
‘I’ll show you more tomorrow,’ he promised.
Despite what he’d said on their arrival, Grace wondered if Roland expected her to share his room that night. But he kissed her at her bedroom door. ‘Good night, sweet Grace.’
It took the pressure off; but, at the same time, she felt disappointment swooping in her stomach. She lay awake, wondering if she had the nerve to walk into his room. If she did, would he open his arms to her? Or would he reject her? In the end, she didn’t quite have the nerve, and she fell asleep full of regret.