judging from the distance from one end to the other, that’s a lot of tension.”
He took her hand into his, more to immobilize it than to conform to any proper dance position. “I’m out of practice on more than one score.” He saw the merriment in her eyes and cocked his head, forgetting to feel like a fish out of water. “Are you flirting with me?”
Amusement danced along cheekbones that a sculptor would have wept over with joy. “If you have to ask, I’m the one out of practice.” She relaxed, finding something utterly comforting about being with this man. For the moment she allowed herself to sink into the sensation. “But yes, I’m flirting with you.”
They hardly knew each other, he thought. “Why?”
She raised and lowered her slim shoulders. “Why does a woman usually flirt?” He underestimated himself about the dancing, she thought. He was dancing very nicely.
The smile on his lips was self-deprecating. “I said I was out of practice.”
Margo enumerated the reasons for him. “A woman flirts with a man to be complimented. Or because she’s with a good-looking man and would like his attention. She flirts because it feels good. Or to be friendly because that’s her way.”
They danced by Lance and Melanie. Margo felt a slight tug on her heart. She’d encouraged Melanie to be independent since she’d taken her first step, but she’d never seen how well the lesson had been learned until this moment. Melanie was all grown-up and on her own.
“Or maybe,” Margo said quietly, watching the younger couple dance, “because her only daughter’s just gotten married and she’s feeling a little world-weary, a little lost.”
Bruce waited until the pause drew itself out into silence. “Is this where I’m supposed to choose one of the above?”
Rousing herself, Margo smiled as she nodded. “Yes, this would be the logical place.”
“The last one?” He thought it was a safe guess.
She’d opened up a little more of herself than she’d meant and now retreated. Light laughter filled the air. “Wrong. To be friendly.” she told him. Purposely Margo maneuvered Bruce so that her back was to her daughter. Getting misty twice in one day was twice too many. “I like people, Bruce. I like them to like me. With men, that means a little flirting.”
Across the floor Melanie watched their progress with amusement and a touch of concern. She liked Bruce. Liked him a great deal. A man like that was completely unarmed when it came to someone like her mother. Unarmed and unprepared.
She raised her eyes to her new husband. “My mother is dancing with your father. Think I should warn him about her?”
Lance would have hated to admit it at one time, but he and his father were a lot alike. Or had been, until Melanie had entered his life. His father deserved a chance at mining that kind of treasure.
Lance shook his head. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll be the best thing that ever happened to him.”
The compliment warmed her, but it didn’t dispel her concern. That was just the problem. At bottom, her mother wasn’t like her.
Melanie bit her lower lip as she watched the pair move in slow circles on one tiny section of the dance floor. Go easy on him, Mama.
Chapter Two
Margo raised her head to look up at the man who managed to extend an attitude of respectfulness toward her even while he held her close enough to make her pulse beat in time to the music. She knew without being told that Bruce Reed was a shy man. A hundred years or so ago, he might have even been referred to as a courtly man.
There was a lot to be said for courtly, she mused, enjoying the feel of his arms around her.
The thought occurred to her that chivalry and manners had definitely been underrated in the past few decades.
Or maybe, a small voice whispered to her, it might be that she had gotten just the least bit weary of life in the fast lane. Bruce Reed, with his reluctant, shy smile, his kind eyes and polite ways was like a breath of fresh air to her.
Mentally, Margo shrugged away the choices. Whatever the cause of her feelings, it was nice, dancing like this with the tall, handsome stranger fate and the state of California had linked her to. Drifting with the music, she let herself just enjoy the moment. That had been her credo for the last twenty some odd years. Enjoy the moment, because the next one might just come by and knock you on your seat
Margo moved her hand up along his arm, resting it lightly on his jacket. Even so, she could detect the hard muscle that was just beneath. Handsome and strong, she thought. That was unusual in a man over thirty.
The smile she directed Bruce’s way was slow, deep and, some had told her, lethal. His unspoken reaction to it pleased her, as well.
She studied his face. “How old are you?”
Leery about where this was going, he asked, “Why?”
She shrugged, her shoulder brushing against him. It was a nice sensation. Going with it, Margo laid her head against his chest. “You don’t look old enough to have a son like Lance.”
This was nice, he thought, surprised by her familiarity and his own reaction to it. They were hardly moving on the floor and yet it felt nice. His cheek brushed ever so slightly against the top of her head. The vague tingle he felt made him forget that he hated to dance. “Thank you,” he told her. “I can honestly say I return the compliment.”
Margo raised her head. A smile curved her mouth. “I don’t look old enough to have a son like Lance?” she asked, teasing him. “I’m not.”
That had gotten twisted somehow. “No, I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” she told him, taking him off the hook he seemed destined to impale himself on, although she had to admit, he made being flustered seem almost adorable. “That I don’t look old enough to be Melanie’s mother. And it’s a very nice compliment.”
It took Bruce a moment to focus on the conversation. The way she had looked up at him had temporarily blown all thoughts out of his mind, filling the space with her image. He’d never seen eyes quite so blue before, or quite so compelling. Hypnotic was the word for it, he amended. And for the lady, as well. It was like holding solidified quicksilver in his arms. There for the moment, but not for long.
Lance’s new mother-in-law, he caught himself thinking, was one hell of a remarkable woman.
“It’s not a compliment,” Bruce corrected her. She was probably on the receiving end of a dozen a day. He had no intention of getting involved in some sort of unofficial competition. “It’s an observation. You really do look more like Melanie’s sister than her mother.”
She’d heard it before, but it wasn’t something she was about to become tired of anytime soon. As time went by, she cherished the compliment more and more.
With a stately nod, she replied, “I had her when I was eleven.”
Her face
