Free Dance with the Doctor by Cindi Myers Page B

pulling such a stunt.”
    “Let me see.”
    “No, it’s fine. Really.” But she took his hand, cradling it in hers. Her nails were painted a bright pink, her fingers long and slender. She held him gently, her skin soft and warm as only a woman’s could be. He was a man alone with a beautiful woman he suddenly wanted very much.
    The strength of his desire surprised him as much as the punch had. Tonight was obviously an evening for every long-suppressed emotion to rise to the surface, so he didn’t fight the feeling, merely brought his free hand to rest against the exquisite tenderness of the hollow of her throat.
    When her eyes met his, questioning, he brought his lips to hers. Answering the question.
    Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined, and as warm and welcoming as he’d hoped. She arched into him, and he put his hand at the curve of her waist to steady her, his palm resting against her bare skin.
    There was no hesitation or awkwardness in this kiss, no fumbling of strangers. Her lips parted in invitation and he accepted. She tasted sweet and earthy, like everything sex should be.
    He kissed until he was breathless, reluctant to break the spell of the moment. Then he realized she was trembling, and he was trembling too. He raised his head but kept his hand at her waist. “If you want me to apologize for that, I won’t.”
    “No. No, I don’t want you to apologize.” She rested her palm against his chest, her cheeks flushed, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. They stared at each other, the amazement he felt reflected in her eyes.
    Finally, she took a step back. “Let me change clothes and we’ll go somewhere and talk.”
    He waited for her in the hall. While he was standing there a burly man in a dark suit approached. “Is Darcy in there?” he asked.
    “Are you Dileep?”
    “Dileep Aswan.”
    “Darcy’s changing. I’m sorry about tonight. I’ll pay for my meal, and for that man’s, too. And any other damages.” He reached for his wallet.
    “No, no.” Dileep waved him away. “I have a wife and three daughters. I understand how it is.” His expression grew more stern. “But don’t come to watch her dance anymore. Some men can sit back and watch others admire their woman, but you cannot. I cannot. We’re too hot-blooded, so we must stay away.”
    Mike had never in his life thought of himself as hot-blooded, but he nodded. “Yes. I’ll stay away. I promise.”
    When Darcy emerged a few moments later, dressed in jeans and a red parka, Mike told her he’d spoken to Dileep.
    “I heard,” she said.
    “He seemed more amused than anything, as if I’d done what any man would.”
    “You didn’t tell him I wasn’t your woman.”
    “Explaining seemed too complicated.” After the kiss they’d just shared, he wasn’t sure how he’d characterize their relationship. He’d punched a man because of Darcy, then kissed her passionately—it seemed clear they’d moved beyond casual friendship, though he could think of half a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea. “Where do you want to go now?” he asked.
    “There’s a coffee shop two doors down. Let’s go there.”
    She left her costume in her car and they walked down to the coffee shop. At this time of night it was quiet. She ordered a chai latte and Mike asked for black coffee. Now that the adrenaline had faded he was starting to drag.
    They sat at a table near the front windows. In the harsh fluorescent lighting the stage makeup she’d worn to dance looked overdone, like a girl playing dress-up. “I usually go straight home after I dance,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.
    “I usually fall asleep on the sofa in front of the television on the nights Taylor’s away.”
    “Tonight was certainly more exciting than that.”
    “I’m sorry I overreacted with that guy. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you in trouble with the owner.”
    “It’s okay. By next Friday it’ll be forgotten.”
    “I think Dileep