Free Severed Threads by Kaylin McFarren Page B

that moment at least. "I actually came over here to ask you to dance. But if you'd prefer that I just move on…"
    "Dance? With me?" Her hand clutched the diamond necklace dangling from her leathery neck. "I…I haven't danced in years."
    He could feel the weight of Rachel’s eyes on him from across the room. "Then all the more reason.” He hooked his arm through Megan's and steered them through the crowd to the edge of the dance floor.
    "This is totally unnecessary," she said. “There’s lots of other women here I'm sure you'd prefer spending time with."
    He flashed a counterfeit smile. "If that was true, I would have asked one of them."
    A smile lifted the corners of her plump red lips. "Well, I suppose one quick dance wouldn't hurt." She extended her right hand and draped her left arm over his shoulder.
    Chase waited for dancers to pass by. He slipped between them, step-close-stepping. Swaying and whirling her about. Megan managed to keep up with him with surprisingly little effort. But then the music changed tempo. It picked up speed and morphed into a rollicking swing number.
    Chase froze in place. He anticipated Megan's adamant protest, but instead, she smiled and nodded agreeably. She slipped her purse chain over one arm and reclaimed his hand.
    You asked for it. Chase led her footwork, turning and spinning this way and that. With reckless abandonment, he tested their limited boundaries, flinging Megan from one end of the dance floor to the other. Back and forth they twirled and twisted. Kicking, sliding, jumping. Colliding into couples with every forward pitch. The open space around them grew larger as besieged performers surrendered their positions.
    Megan’s cackles and sweaty palms proved no detriment as he directed their unorthodox display. By the end of the lengthy number, a crowd had gathered and was enthusiastically clapping. Megan wobbled about, clutching her chest. Someone offered to fetch a glass of water, but she refused, preferring champagne. She gulped down two servings before signaling for a refill.
    Meanwhile, Chase's interest stretched elsewhere. The only person he'd hoped to impress was now nowhere in sight. Where the hell did she go? Rachel had probably found some dark corner, convinced he’d come here this evening to further humiliate her.
    A persistent tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the wild-eyed matron at his side.
    "You're quite the dancer, aren't you?" Megan puffed. She drew another ragged breath and smoothed the side of her frizzy brown hair.
    "Only with the right partner," he said, humoring her. He pulled at his sweaty collar and looked beyond her, longing for the right moment to escape.
    "You know board members aren't supposed to fraternize with potential clients. Conflict of interests and all that," she claimed. “But I have to admit, it’s a good thing we met this evening."
    "And why's that?"
    "You’re an attractive young man. I have something you want. With a little imagination, we just might come up with a mutually beneficial arrangement."
    His eyes swung back with astonishment. "Sorry…what did you say?"
    Megan's hand gripped his forearm. “You know…a little prodding in all the right places.” Her brow inched up a fraction.
    Chase tendered a weak smile. "Sounds painful."
    She snorted a laugh, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. With her senses restored, she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "I don't mind helping my special friends." She looked up at him through heavily lashed eyes.
    He could feel his dry throat constricting. Are you kidding? His vision dropped to the woman’s gold glittery shoes – blaring and ostentatious as the woman herself. He glanced up at her again, unsure of what to say.
    "I have a room at the Ambassador," she persisted. "If you want my support, meet me there in twenty minutes."
    His thoughts scrambled for a foothold. An escape route from the B-rated movie he'd fallen into.
    She reached into her purse and extracted a