to the party with me.”
“Not yet.”
He chuckled. “You expecting that to change?”
“Depends on your behavior between now and the time we leave.”
“Then I guess I better be on my best, eh?”
“Something like that.”
Not that she could imagine Lance not being on his best behavior at all times. He was always smiling, doing something to help others. Never had she met a man who volunteered more. It was as if his life’s mission was to do as much good as he possibly could in the world. Or at least within their small community.
The music changed to an upbeat number and they danced to a few more songs. The emcee for the evening stopped the music and made several announcements, gave away a few raffle items.
“Now, folks.” The emcee garnered their attention. “I’d like to call Dr. Lance Spencer to the stage.”
Lance glanced at her. “Do you know anything about this?”
McKenzie shook her head. She didn’t have a clue.
Pulling McKenzie along with him, he headed up toward the makeshift stage. She managed to free her hand just before he stepped up onto the stage. No way was he taking her up there with him. Who knew what was about to happen? Maybe he had won a raffle or special door prize or something.
“Dr. Spencer,” the emcee continued, “I’m told you make a mean emcee.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘mean,’” Lance corrected, laughing.
“Well, a little birdie tells me you’ve been known to rock a karaoke machine and requested you sing to kick off our karaoke for the evening.”
Lance glanced at McKenzie, but she shook her head. That little birdie wasn’t her.
Always in the spirit of things, Lance shrugged, and told the emcee the name of a song. As the music started, microphone in hand, he stepped off the stage and took McKenzie’s hand again.
“I need a singing partner.”
Her heart in her nonsinging throat, McKenzie shook her head. He wasn’t doing this. She didn’t want to make a spectacle of them by pulling her hand free of his, but her feet were about to take off at any moment, which meant he was either coming with her, hands clasped and all, or she’d be doing exactly that.
“Come on,” he encouraged. “Don’t be shy. Sing with me, McKenzie. It’ll be fun.”
By this time, the crowd was also really into the spirit of things and urging her onto the stage. She heard a female doctor whose office was right next to hers call out for her to go for it.
McKenzie’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to be able to run away. Not this time. She was surrounded by her coworkers. Her hand was held by Lance.
She was going to have to go onstage and sing. With Lance. Nothing like a little contrast to keep things interesting.
A singer she was not.
She closed her eyes.
What had been a great night had just gone sour. Very, very sour.
She blamed Lance.
Lance realized he’d made a mistake the moment he’d put McKenzie on the spot. Unfortunately, his request wasn’t something she could easily refuse with their coworkers now cheering for her to join him. She could either sing or be seen as a total party pooper—which she wasn’t and he knew she’d resent being labeled as one.
McKenzie’s eyes flashed with fear and he wasn’t sure what all else.
He’d messed up big time.
Faking a smile, she stepped up onto the stage with him. He still held her hand. Her palm was sweaty and her fingers threatened to slip free. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. She didn’t even look at him.
Lance sang and McKenzie came through from time to time, filling the backup role rather than taking a lead with him, as he’d initially hoped. Mostly, she mumbled, except during the chorus. With almost everyone in the crowd singing along, too, maybe no one noticed.
McKenzie noticed, though. The moment the song was over, she gave him the evil eye. “For the record, I don’t sing and if you ever do that to me again, it’ll be the last time.”
“That’s funny,” he teased, planning to keep their conversation light, to beg her forgiveness if he needed to. “I just heard you do exactly that.”
“Only a tone-deaf lunatic would call what I just did singing.”
“I thought you sounded good.”
“You don’t count.”
“Ouch.” He put his hand over his heart as if she’d delivered a fatal blow. “My references say I count.”
She flashed an annoyed look his way. “You’re really going to have to get over those references.”
“Or use them as a shield against the walloping you seem determined to deliver to me.”
“Not everyone enjoys being the center of attention.”
“Tell me the truth. You didn’t have fun onstage just then? Not even a little?” he coaxed.
McKenzie stared at him as if he was crazy. He was crazy.
“I detested being onstage in front of my coworkers.” She frowned as they moved onto the dance floor. Her body remained rigid, rather than relaxing against his like it had during their earlier dances. “For the record, I really don’t like people staring at me. Put it down to bad childhood memories of when my parents thrust me into situations where I got a lot of unwanted attention.”
When he’d gone after her to sing with him, he’d never considered that she might not enjoy being onstage. He’d just selfishly wanted her with him.
“I’m sorry, McKenzie. If I’d known how you felt, I wouldn’t have put you in the spotlight that way. I definitely would never intentionally upset you. It was all in fun, to kick off the night’s karaoke. That’s all.”
“I know you didn’t intentionally pull me up there to upset me,” she admitted. “I just prefer you not to put me in situations where all eyes are on me. I have enough bad childhood flashbacks as it is.”
“What kind of childhood flashbacks?”
“Just situations where my parents would yell and scream at each other regardless of where we were and no matter who was around. Way too often all eyes would be on me while they had a knock-down, drag-out. When people stare at me, it gives me that same feeling of humiliation and mortification.”
“I’m sorry your parents did that to you and that I made
