This was a bad idea. A
very bad idea.
The instant Sally’s warm
hands clasped his, Logan knew he was in trouble.
To start with, Sally was
wearing a sleeveless yellow dress made from some kind of T shirt material. With
a low-backed top that hugged her lithe body like a leotard and a full skirt that
rippled about her legs whenever she moved, the outfit was no doubt very suitable
for dancing. But it totally threatened the boss-employee dynamics he’d been
determined to maintain.
And now she was standing
close and touching him. Her bright hair framed her intent face, her eyes
signalled intelligence and sensitivity, and all he wanted to do was haul her
closer and kiss her and –
‘The waltz is all about
poise, grace and elegance,’ she told him. ‘If you listen carefully to the music,
you can hear how light and smooth and airy it is.’
Obediently, Logan censored
his thoughts and concentrated on Strauss’s Blue Danube. ‘The beat’s
important, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely. Counting the music is most important. That’s what will get you
through this waltz. Can you count to three, Mr. Black?’
He favoured her with a lopsided smile.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’
Sally said in mock apology. ‘You’ve already told me you’re very good at
mathematics, so this should be a cinch.’
He couldn’t help admiring
her confidence and her easy use of humour to help him to relax. She really was a
surprise package – and, right now, very much in control.
‘All you have to do is
count to three,’ she continued. ‘One is the most important. You need to
emphasise the first beat.’
Holding his left hand in
her right, she beat in time to the music. ‘Hear it? One, two, three.
One, two, three. One, two, three.’
‘Yep. Got that.’
‘The other key to the
waltz is posture.’
Automatically, Logan
thrust his jaw forward and his shoulders back.
‘Not like that. We don’t
want you standing like a wooden soldier. You need to be lifted and light on your
feet. You mustn’t weigh your partner down.’ Her eyes twinkled at him. ‘On the
dance floor, the man becomes his partner’s coat hanger.’
‘That’s a role I’ve
never aspired to.’
‘It’s important to
remember,’ she said, suppressing a smile. ‘You need to be strong and supportive,
so your arms can provide the frame for Diana Devenish to look fabulous.’
‘Right.’ Logan turned his grimace into a smile. ‘An awesome responsibility.’
‘You’ll be fine, Logan,’
she said more gently.
Logan.
It was the first time
Sally had used his first name and it bothered him that he’d noticed. Why? It was
of no particular significance, but simply part of her technique to get him to
relax.
And yet, somehow, crazily,
it felt like a big deal.
‘Now,’ she said. ‘Place
your right hand just below my scapula.’
‘Your what?’
‘Sorry. Too many first aid
classes. Put your hand just below my shoulder blade.’
Her shoulder blade…
Valiantly, Logan attempted
to follow her instruction but as soon as his fingers made contact with her soft,
exposed skin, he inhaled sharply, retracted his hand abruptly.
She had to be joking.
He shifted his hand lower
to the safety of clothing. The further away from her bare skin the better.
‘Not my waist, my shoulder
blade.’ Reaching behind, Sally slid his hand up her back. ‘Just think bra line.’
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly and she looked at him with a cheeky tilt of her head.
‘I’m quite sure you’ve managed to find that on a woman before.’
Very true. So why was he
breaking out in a cold sweat now?
‘Now, let’s count to three
and –’ Frowning at him, Sally hesitated. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Never better,’ he lied.
With his hand at Sally’s bra line, counting to three was suddenly as easy as
climbing Mt. Everest with frost bite.
‘Fabulous. Now, we’ll step
out the beat. Let’s go. One, two, three. One, two three. Left, right left.
Right, left, right.’
Somehow, Logan managed to
survive this without trampling on Sally’s toes and they actually completed a
circuit around the cleared floor.
‘You make it easy,’ he
told her somewhat triumphantly.
‘You’re doing really well,
but we’ve a little way to go yet. Now, I want you to make the first beat strong
and the second two lighter. Strong, soft, soft. Strong soft, soft.’
They whirled together,
bumped knees once or twice, but continued on without any major mishap.
‘Great!’ Sally cried. ‘Now
you’re really getting it!’
He could have kissed her,
might have kissed her, but she was too busy issuing more instructions.
z
From “Blind Date with the Boss"
By: Barbara Hannay
Harlequin Mills and Boon Romance
November 2008
13-978-0-373-17550-5
Copyright: © Barbara Hannay
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The edition published by arrangement
with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com
