His eyes narrowed as he realized that he’d been provoked once again into the high-handed behavior that Summer so enjoyed mocking. Ignoring the caterers, who were discreetly and efficiently clearing away all signs of the party, Derek stepped closer to Summer and slipped his arms around her waist, locking his hands behind her back. “Were you and my sister laughing at me and my guests when the two of you slipped off together so often tonight?”
She’d learned that protests had no effect on his behavior, so Summer made no comment at his familiarity, though her pulse leaped exasperatingly at his touch. Again her senses were vibrating, thrumming with excitement and a primitive form of fear. Silently ordering her traitorous body to behave itself, she reminded herself sternly that she had no business wanting this man. “It was a very nice party, Derek,” she answered courteously, her face suspiciously bland. “Exactly the type of party I expected you to host.”
“Meaning dull,” he translated, though he did not seem particularly offended.
“I didn’t say that,” she pointed out, concentrating on their conversation in an effort to ignore the breadth of his chest so close to her tightening breasts. There seemed to be a Ping-Pong game going on inside her own chest, which was making it difficult to breathe naturally.
“Perhaps I should have arranged for dancing,” he mused, his hands beginning to stroke Summer’s back almost absently.
All too aware of the lazy movements of those hands, Summer pretended to give his comment serious thought. “It might have been nice,” she agreed finally.
“It’s not entirely too late,” Derek informed her, drawing her even closer to him. “The music is still playing, and you and I are still here.”
“But I don’t dance,” she reminded him in a voice that was too breathless for her own comfort.
“You can dance with me,” he replied imperturbably. “Put your arms around me, Summer.”
“No, Derek.”
Please.”
She sighed in frustration. “What is this, another way to show me up? You know I—”
A smothering kiss cut the words off neatly. “I just remembered what it takes to shut you up,” Derek growled when he lifted his head. “Now put your arms around me, Summer.”
She did. When Derek began to move very slowly to the easy music, she moved stiffly with him at first. Then she began to relax as she realized his feet were barely moving and his strong arms were supporting her so that she was able to dance lightly on the toes of her right foot to balance her more fully extended left leg. Before long her arms were around his neck, her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes closed as she gave herself up to the joy of dancing for the first time in five long years. Derek’s hands moved lower on her back to hold her in intimate contact as his cheek nestled against her silky amber-brown hair. Neither of them noticed when the sprig of baby’s breath fell to the floor.
“This is nice,” he murmured after a while.
“Yes,” she whispered in reply. “It is.”
“You really haven’t danced since your accident?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was afraid to try,” she admitted, then opened her eyes in surprise at her own words. What was she saying? Summer Reed never confessed to such weaknesses.
“Afraid of what, Summer?”
“Oh, nothing. Forget I said it.”
His arms tightened around her. “Talk to me, Summer. What were you afraid of?”
She sighed. It was hard to concentrate when she was being held so closely to his powerful body, moving slowly to the strains of romantic music. It seemed easier to just answer honestly than to try to shrug off the subject with a wisecrack as she would have done with anyone else. “I was afraid of falling or looking awkward or otherwise making a fool of myself. And I miss the kind of dancing that I used to do, the tap and jazz that I studied for so long. I didn’t think that slow social dancing would compare very well.”
“Do you find this dance boring?”
Brilliant blue eyes smiled up at him through thick, half-lowered lashes. “No, Derek. I’m not bored.”
“Good.” He pulled her even closer and dropped his cheek to hers. The first song ended and another began, and still they swayed silently in the center of the living room, the glass wall behind them reflecting their images against the diamond-studded darkness outside their softly lighted private world. When the second song came to an end, Summer lifted her face to speak to him, only to forget what she’d meant to say when he took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her long and deeply.
“Derek,” she breathed when she could speak. And then fell silent as words eluded her. Pressed as they were from chest to knee, she was vividly aware of the arousal that had been growing in him since that first dance, and he had to be aware of her own physical response as her swollen, hard-tipped breasts were flattened against him. Blue silk and delicate lace could not conceal that she was stimulated by his nearness, as he was by hers. “Oh, Derek.” She sighed and tightened her arms around his neck to pull his head back down to hers. “Kiss me again.”
“Summer,” he whispered against her lips just before his mouth opened to cover hers completely. He kissed her as if he would devour her, as if he would learn all her secrets with only this all-consuming embrace, and Summer opened herself to him, holding nothing back from him.
There was no longer any pretense of dancing. Derek kissed her, drew back only to tilt his head to a new angle and kissed her again. Summer returned kiss for kiss, the need for oxygen a secondary consideration to her need for Derek.