Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
The emcee takes the trophy from Kristoff. The lights dim, and as champions, Kristoff and I dance. But my mind is on Alejandro, the way he watches me, face shuttered, posture relaxed. What is the man thinking?
Soon, others crowd onto the floor. With the spotlight no longer on us, I all but force Kristoff to tango Alejandro’s way.
Kristoff resists. “Wait. I must tell you something.”
“Later. Okay?”
“But—”
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
Before he can reply, we reach the edge of the dance floor. I turn to Alejandro’s mother.
“Mrs. Diaz? Hi, I’m Shanna York.” I hold out my hand.
“Ella es tu novia?” his mother asks Alejandro sharply.
“Mamá…” He sighs. “Sí.” Then he whispers something in her ear...and her entire face lightens. She glows.
She turns to me with a beaming smile and says in accented English. “Thank you for the tickets. Congratulations on winning, nuera.”
Nuera? Damn, I need to learn Spanish ASAP. “Thank you. Have you had the pleasure of dancing with my partner, Kristoff?”
She shakes her head and risks a shy peek at Kristoff. “He is one of my favorites.”
“I’m sure he’d consider it a favor. He gets tired of dancing with me and would love your company.” I turn to my partner. “Kristoff?”
My partner smiles charmingly and takes hold of the older woman’s hand. “Shall we?”
Off they go. I watch Kristoff handle Alejandro’s mother with aplomb as he leads her into a waltz. The problem is, with Kristoff engaged, well-wishers and competitors are headed my way.
My father approaches first with a proud gleam in his eyes and a big hug. After I quickly introduce him to Alejandro and bask in my dad’s pride, I kiss his cheek. Then I grab Alejandro’s hand and drag him backstage, down a poorly lit, winding hallway, into an empty office. I have no idea who it belongs to—and don’t care—but I shut the door behind me and lock it.
“Hi.” I smile. “I’m so grateful you came. Thank you.”
God, can he hear my heart pounding like an up-tempo song at full blast?
“You sent tickets. This competition meant a great deal to you.” I hear the edge of anger in his voice, glimpse it in his tight jaw.
“Not as much as you. I know that now.” I bite my lip, wondering how bad it’s going to hurt if he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. “I’m sorry about…the other morning. You know, leaving you without a word. For everything, really. Please tell me you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
His face still gives me no inkling about his true feelings, but I consider not hating me a decent start. I rush to Alejandro, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.
Then again, unless I convince him of my sincerity, there might not be a tomorrow for the two of us.
He kisses me back. Oh, does he ever. And he tastes so good. Like brandy and a hint of cinnamon. Hot. And a few moments later, the kiss turns hungry, insistent as he devours my lips. He throws his arms around me, bands them tight around my middle, as if telling me without words that I’m not going anywhere again. I melt and become a puddle at his feet.
Long minutes and a pair of damp panties later, I break away, breathing like I’ve run a marathon. And unable to restrain a hopeful smile. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“For leaving me alone in my bed? Hmm, I may need more…persuading.” A smile toys at the corners of his lips.
“Does tonight work for you?” I cup his cheek in my hand, look right into those killer hazel eyes, and throw caution to the wind.
“I may require more nights. Many of them.”
Hope bursts in my heart, so explosive I can hardly breathe. “You got it. I’m so sorry. What I did was insensitive. I know it. I knew it then. I was just...scared. But I’m not anymore. And I want you to know that I care about you. A lot.”
He quirks a dark brow. “Care. In what way?”
I know I have his attention. Not only do I feel it against my hip, I feel it in his gaze, in the way his arms tighten around me.
“How much, querida?” he prompts again.
I swallow down the tangle of anxiety and need and anticipation threatening to kill my courage. “I love you.”
Those three words have barely cleared my lips before he steps around me and, with an impatient arm, wipes every piece of paper off the flat, faux-wood desk and onto the floor. A moment later, my back is against the cool laminated surface and every inch of his body covers me completely, from the bunching shoulders beneath his elegant coat to the hard abs that ripple with every breath.
“Say it again.” His voice is thick with demand.