Free Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues by LUANN MCLANE Page B

apologize for my outburst. And normally I’m a pretty mannerly, laid-back person but his saying things about me in Spanish really ticks me off. Being careful not to raise my voice I say primly, “Would you please speak in English? It’s not right that I can’t understand what you’re sayin’.”
    “Well, half the time I can’t understand what you’re saying in English , so that makes us even,” he says smoothly and raises that doggone eyebrow!
    “Stop raisin’ your eyebrow at me!”
    “What?” This seems to take him off guard. “I don’t do that.”
    “Oh, but you do. ” I point to the offending eyebrow. “The left one.”
    He mulls this over for a second and I think he’s going to apologize for the error of his ways but he says, “So it must be an involuntary habit. Get over it.” He adds a shrug for good measure.
    For a moment I’m admiring the play of muscle resulting from his shrug but then his rudeness sinks in and overpowers my good sense and I shove him with both hands right smack in the middle of his chest. Both eyebrows shoot up and he has to take a step backward to keep his balance.
    Holy crap.
    I swallow hard as two things hit me: One, that my hands are tingling from the contact with his hard, warm chest. And two, that I’m behaving very badly.
    Rio goes still and gives me a long, silent look.
    “I’m sorry . . . I—”
    “Don’t be,” he interrupts in a low silky tone. He takes a step closer . . . so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. Suddenly I’m itching to touch him again but not to shove him away. He looks at me with those dark, fathomless eyes and I swear he must be the sexiest thing ever born. I remind myself that he’s an arrogant jerk but my body has other ideas and I sway toward him. He steadies me by placing both of his hands around my waist and whispers, “Thank God.”
    Ah yes , I think as I release a long sigh. Thank God! My eyes flutter shut and I wait for him to lean in and kiss me but he doesn’t. “Um, thank God for what ?” I ask in a small, somewhat confused tone.
    “You do have some fire and passion. I was beginning to wonder.”
    I let this sink in and then I get it. With narrowed eyes I ask, “So, let me get this straight. You were baiting me all mornin’ to see when I’d crack?” I lean in so far that we’re standing almost nose-to-nose. He’s a couple of inches taller but I’m up on the balls of my feet.
    “It took longer than I expected,” he says calmly when he should be running for his ever-lovin’ life.
    “So posing like a warrior and a danged tree was to get my goat?”
    “Not exactly . . . Pilates is going to be part of our training. But I admit that I was pushing you. I wanted to see some spunk . . . some personality so that I knew just what I had to work with. Ballroom dancing is all about passion, Abby. A monkey can memorize the steps. I wanted to see if sparks could fly,” he says with a slow smile that does funny things to my stomach, “and they did.” After taking a step back he says, “You’ve earned a break. Go grab a bottle of water.”
    “Wait a minute. I’m being rewarded for bad behavior?”
    Rio throws back his head and laughs. “Yes, I suppose so.”
    I’m officially confused but I nod and then walk over to the cooler full of water and snag a bottle. I suppose I should be happy that I’ve somehow managed to please him but it bothers me a little that he planned the whole thing. And it bothers me a lot that I was feeling like grabbing him and kissing him silly when it was all just a ploy on his part to fire me up.
    I make a mental note not to fall for my instructor. That would be really, really stupid.
    Even so, while drinking my water I can’t stop myself from glancing over at Rio. His dark head is bent while he jots down notes in a small pad. Gee, I can only guess what he might be writing . . . maybe something like Hopelessly horrible but easily riled . Something he writes makes him grin and