Free Love, Me by Tiffany White Page B

you know—a screaming orgasm.”
    â€œA mint julep it is.” He ducked away quickly into the crowd, but not before she’d seen him blush.
    Chelsea turned her attention to the dance floor where it looked like at least five hundred people were dancing to the Neon Cactus band. The band’s singer was a petite blonde in a red sequined dress and feather earrings. Watching her made Chelsea long to be onstage. There was nothing like the rush she felt from the applause of the crowd.
    It was the only time she really felt loved.
    She missed the times onstage with Tucker. Dear Tucker, what would she do without him in her life?
    Dakota returned with a cold long-neck beer for him and a highball glass for her.
    He chugged his beer while she took a tentative sip of her drink. She made a face and looked at her drink more closely. “There’s a Maraschino cherry in a mint julep?”
    â€œThey were out of mint leaves,” Dakota explained. “So I got you a blackberry collins. It’s what Melinda, my assistant, drinks. She was at the bar and suggested it.”
    â€œWhat you’re saying is you were too chicken to order me a screaming orgasm,” she taunted.
    â€œNo,” he countered, his blue eyes meeting hers in a contest of wills. “What I’m saying is I never order a screaming orgasm, I only serve them.”
    â€œOh,” was all she said.
    They stood at the railing watching the intricate footwork, spins and turns of the line dancers. The music was upbeat and the spirit of fun on the dance floor was infectious.
    So much so that when the band moved to the new hit ballad, “She Left Me and It Wasn’t Even Rainin,’” Dakota leaned forward and whispered, “You want to dance?”
    It was more a dare than a request, Chelsea thought, considering his dancing ability. She looked over her shoulder to see if he was teasing or serious. “Sure you don’t mind being seen with me?” she asked, remembering his disapproval of her attire.
    â€œAre you kidding? With you wearing that see-through blouse, no one’s seen me yet—or is likely to.” He placed his hand in the center of her back, urging her to join him on the dance floor.
    When Dakota pulled her into his arms, he didn’t even attempt the country two-step. Instead, he showed a fluid smoothness—evidence that he’d attended his share of debutante balls before leaving home.
    Chelsea counted it lucky that no one had recognized either of them in the crowded honky-tonk. They’d blended in with the others wearing denim and cowboy hats—and she’d seen a few outfits that had made even her sheer blouse look tame.
    She let herself be swept up into the romantic mood. Allowed herself to pretend she was having the perfect birthday evening. Dakota’s arms held her in a tight embrace while he nuzzled his chin alongside her forehead. The heat of his body released the spicy scent of his cologne and worked its sensual magic.
    She was drifting along in a romantic trance when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. At first she thought it was Dakota, but then she heard an impatient feminine voice say, “I’m cutting in.”
    Chelsea lifted her head from Dakota’s shoulder and turned to see Melinda Jackson gazing proprietarily at Dakota. She was dressed to kill in a pair of pressed jeans, red fringed jacket and matching red cowboy hat and boots.
    Chelsea pulled out of Dakota’s embrace and left him to his assistant. As she headed toward the bar for a long-neck beer, she looked back over her shoulder and saw that Melinda had plastered herself to her boss as close as a coat of paint. Melinda’s smile was victorious as she looked at Chelsea over Dakota’s shoulder.
    Since Dakota’s back was to Chelsea she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or pleased about the change in partners, but she would have bet on the latter.
    Chelsea went to the end of the bar