Free The Darkest Secret: A New Adult Romance Novel by Jessica Pine Page B

Weight on your right foot - one forward, two side, back three four, and cross left over right..."
    She crosses her legs the wrong way round and groans.
    "Jimmy, I'm hopeless. It's like my brain and my feet are wired all wrong."
    "You barely started. Everyone sucks at first. Do it again. One, two, back three four and cross on five, shift back on six...that's it. You're doing it. Side seven and close eight. You see? You got it."
    "I won't remember it," she says, staring down at her feet. "How does it even work when you put it all together? Won't we step on each other, doing the same steps?"
    "Nuh uh. When we do it for real I dance different steps, so don't try to copy me."
    "Oh shit," she says, laughing. "You mean I can't just follow you? I have to remember?"
    "You can do it. Give me your hand. We'll put this together."
    She stares down at her feet as she goes through the steps. She crosses a beat too early and swears.
    "Relax," I say. "You know what you did wrong - that means you know how to fix it. Don't mind what I'm doing. Back three four..."
    This time she gets the cross right, but I can feel her trying to take the lead. That prompts all kind of wrongheaded thoughts and I feel my cheeks turn warm. Her waist is nothing under my hand, but she moves with a kind of persuasion that makes me wonder what the red in her hair might mean. A hot temper, a bossy tongue.
    "Relax," I say. "You're doing great."
    She laughs.
    "Great at what? Stomping all over your poor toes?"
    "You're not stomping. You're good. See?"
    We're moving a little easier now, but then she steps forward when she's supposed to go back and our toes bump.
    "Shit," she says, looking up. "Told you I was hopeless."
    Her smile fades fast as soon as she sees the heat in my eyes. I should let go of her, but she doesn't release my hand. Instead she leans forward, and the next thing I know my free hand is full of her hair and my mouth is full of her taste, her tongue. She lets out a low groan deep in the back of her throat, almost a growl, and my blood runs that little bit faster. I can feel the soft press of her small breasts against my chest and her thigh works its way between mine, seeking hardness. This time I'm the one off balance and I fall on my butt on the couch.
    Amber stands over me. Her lips are soft and her hair tumbled, but there's a gleam in her eye that makes me ache. She reaches up under her dress and I can't believe what I'm seeing - her tiny black lace panties coming down over her long white thighs. She steps out of them carefully, one high heel at a time, and smooths down her dress.
    "Are you crazy?" I whisper. What does she think is going to happen now?
    "Yes," she says, raking her hair back with her fingers.
    I swallow. "Okay. Dumb question."
    She grins, her lower lip caught between her teeth, then all of a sudden her whole attitude changes. Her spine straightens, taking the sexy tilt of her hips with it. She gets this kind of neutral, country-club expression on her face and quickly reaches for the wine bottle.
    "Refill?" she says.
    I almost laugh, but she gives me a warning look. Cockblocked by John Gillespie - there's one to add to the celebrity scrapbook.

Chapter Eight
    Amber
    M y heart skips a beat when I see my Dad standing there. "Sorry to barge in," he said. "But I wanted to see this miracle for myself."
    Jimmy has gone the weirdest color - a kind of putty-gray. His eyes are drawn inevitably to my feet; my panties are lying there in full view. I'm guessing Dad can't see them from where he's standing, else he wouldn't still be smiling. Oh God. This looks bad. There's no way this is going to look anything but bad. After more than six months of sweatpants and not washing my hair unless someone pointed out it was hanging in lumps, I'm suddenly all dressed up and no place to go? I can see the worry behind his smile.
    "You want some wine?" I ask.
    "Is that a good idea?"
    "I can handle a glass, Dad."
    He moves towards us. With a deft little flick of his