Enchanting Melody. Robyn Amos

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the switch on the stereo remote, turning on the music. “Come here.”

      Reluctantly, Melody moved into his arms. He was right, it was a lot different without anyone watching…but not in the way that he’d meant.

      Suddenly she noticed the intoxicating scent of his cologne. She saw his biceps bulging underneath his shirt. And she was very aware of the proximity of their bodies.

      She was so overwhelmed by all these new sensations that she forgot her anxiety over dancing. Mel let herself be swept across the floor in his arms.

      “That’s it. See what a difference it makes when you relax and trust your partner?”

      Melody looked down and lost her footing, throwing them out of sync. She swore under her breath.

      “It’s okay, we’ll pick it back up. Slow, slow, side step. Just follow me.”

      Melody tried to repeat the rhythm over and over in her head so as not to embarrass herself again. “I think I’m getting it.”

      “That’s right. All you have to do is trust me. You don’t even have to know the moves ahead of time. Watch.” Will broke their frame and twirled her in a circle and turned her at an angle in several more complicated patterns.

      Melody glided right along with him, wide-eyed that she was actually dancing. “I don’t believe I did all that,” she said when he resumed the basic pattern.

      “Well, you did.” He stopped. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

      She felt her skin flushing. She felt like a high-school girl. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this much like a girl of any sort. “It was okay,” she said, trying to hide her giddiness.

      “And next week will be even better. Promise me you’ll come back?”

      Melody looked up into those deep brown eyes and found herself saying the opposite of what she’d planned. “I promise.”

      Will regulated his breathing as he increased his pace on the treadmill. He felt his body kick into the zone as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

      “Would you be interested in joining the activity-planning committee?” A petite woman wearing a hot-pink sports bra and designer shorts stepped in front of his treadmill.

      Will tried to hide his frustration as he slowed his pace. “Excuse me?” he asked, panting.

      The woman leaned forward, propping one arm on the electronic panel, inadvertently skewing his workout settings. “I know you’re fairly new to Parkview Heights, and the best way to get to know your neighbors is to join the planning committee. I’m the chair, Abby Rutherford.” She held out her hand.

      Will was forced to stop the treadmill and step off. After first wiping his palm on his shorts, he reluctantly shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Abby. I’m Will.”

      Bending over, hands on his knees, Will stared at the floor, trying to appear as though he were catching his breath. In reality he was reining in his temper.

      “We meet the first Thursday of every month to plan the following month’s events. Can I sign you up for our next meeting in two weeks?”

      Will started to answer but was interrupted when another woman sidled up beside Abby and gave her a one-armed hug. In her other arm, the woman carried a Chihuahua in a purple sweat-band and Spandex tank that matched her own. They exchanged greetings and parted with air kisses.

      “Don’t forget The Apprentice viewing party in the club floor lounge next Monday,” Abby tossed over her shoulder as the woman headed for the juice bar.

      “Sorry about that,” Abby said to Will. “As you can see, committee events are a big hit, and you’ll get to meet all your neighbors.” Her smile turned from friendly to flirtatious.

      “Abby, I’d love to join your committee, but I’m afraid my work schedule is really hectic for the next few weeks.”

      Will had only been a resident of the luxury apartment complex for three weeks, so he was interested in meeting new people, but not in the middle of a workout.

      He’d been varying his exercise routine in the penthouse health club hoping to avoid his chatty neighbors. It was quickly becoming apparent that Parkview residents didn’t come to the gym to work out, they came to be seen.

      On his first visit, he’d felt strangely under-dressed for the gym. He’d shown up in faded sweats and a paint-splattered T-shirt, while everyone else wore color-coordinated designer labels. He’d barely noticed anyone breaking a sweat. His own workout had progressed slowly because all the machines were tied up with men and women carrying on leisurely conversations while they kept up the vague appearance of exercising.

      Cutting his losses, Will rode the elevator back down to his apartment. The thought of buying his own exercise equipment flashed in his mind for the umpteenth time, and for the umpteenth time he dismissed it.

      Despite his hard-won status as one of New York’s more successful stockbrokers, the lifestyle was still too new for him to abandon his working-class values. He just couldn’t waste money on expensive workout machines when his exorbitant rent covered a fully-equipped gym just three floors up. And since he belonged to a rare group of individuals who actually took full advantage of the state-of-the-art machines, the equipment was in excellent condition.

      Will dragged his towel across the back of his neck as he entered his apartment. Getting accepted by the Parkview Housing Committee had been an arduous seven-week process involving background checks, prying interviews and several reference letters from well-placed individuals. Now that he was here, the hassle had been worth it. The exclusive residence represented a lifelong climb from Brooklyn factory work to Wall Street success.

      Of course things were different here. Different from working two jobs to get by. Different from backbreaking manual labor, sleep-deprivation and night school. Different had been exactly what Will was looking for.

      It was just going to take some getting used to, that’s all. But, in the meantime, he needed a dose of reality.

      Will sat on the couch with his cordless phone and dialed his younger brother’s number. Tony answered right away.

      “Will! Hey, man, what’s up? How’s Park Avenue life treating you? No wait, don’t tell me. I’m not in the mood to shoot myself.”

      Tony always pretended that he wanted to switch places with Will, but he knew his brother better than that. Tony had always been quite content with the cards life had dealt him. Will had been the dissatisfied one.

      By contrast, Tony had always worked at the plastics factory and had never pursued another career path. He’d started a family at eighteen and was happy with the small apartment he lived in with his wife and three sons. Will knew this because once he’d begun making money, he’d offered to move them into a big house, or upgrade their ten-year-old car, and all of these offers had been firmly refused. Christmases and birthdays were the only occasions Will was allowed to spend money on them, and even then, extravagant gifts were returned.

      “Everything’s fine here.” Will heard cheering in the background. “What’s going on over there?”

      “Oh, you know

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