Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(33)

“Stand right here.” He placed her on the upper right corner of the box. “The first count, step back with your right foot. Good.”

“Shouldn’t we start the music?”

“Don’t think you’re ready for that. Bring your left foot back with your other foot, then sweep it to the other corner.”

Meridith tried that. So far so good. She went back to the beginning position and did the entire step. “One-two-three. I did it.”

“That’s just the one and two count. The third step your feet are together on the bottom left corner of the box.” He demonstrated slowly from where he stood. “One-two-three.”

“Oh, I see.” She mimicked the move with painstakingly slow movements.

“That’s it.”

Though the steps were right, she was sure she resembled an elephant in high heels. At least he wasn’t laughing. Yet.

He showed her the next three counts, up and around the front left corner of the box and back to start. “So it takes two counts of three to complete the box. Why don’t you try it?”

“Okay.” She went to the start position and proceeded slowly.

“One. Two. Three.” And then she was stuck.

“Left foot forward.”

“One. Two. Three.”

“There you go. That’s all there is to it.”

She gave a wry grin. “Except ten times faster and in sync with a dance partner.”

“Exactly. Do it again.”

“Tyrant.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” She went through the steps slowly again. Then again and again until she could perform them at normal speed. Even though the steps were right, her movements felt awkward, more like she was on an espionage mission than a dance floor.

She stopped midstep, huffing. “Something’s wrong . . .” Her voice came out in a whine. She knew she’d be no good at this. What if she embarrassed Max in front of his friends?

“Let’s talk posture.” He placed his hand in the small of her back. “Straighten your spine.”

She arched her back, more to escape his touch than anything.

“Good. Shoulders back. Maintain this posture while you do the steps.”

She tried the steps again, concentrating on her posture. It took all her focus to do both. She completed the box and started another one.

“Good posture not only makes the dancer look better, but is essential for communication between the—”

Her steps faltered. “Shush!” She glared at him, and was rewarded with a smirk. “I can’t think with you yammering.”

He motioned her on.

Back straight. Shoulders back. One. Two. Three. One. Two.

Daggonit.

“Try again.”

Meridith took the starting position and did a slow turn around the box.

“Good. Again.”

She completed three more box steps, going a little faster each time.

“Posture,” Jake said.

By the time she’d made a few more turns, she was beginning to feel like she might have a chance. She turned a satisfied smile at Jake.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

She practiced the move a few more times, then he turned on the music and counted it off for her. The song was mercifully slow, and she was able to move at the right tempo.

Ten minutes later Jake stopped the music. “You’re ready for a partner.”

It took no more than those words for her heart to go off like a jackhammer. “I’m not sure about that.”

“We’re on a time crunch here, and you need to practice with Max too.”

“Where did you learn to dance? No offense, but you don’t seem like the ballroom type.”

“You stalling, or you really want to know?”

He’d see right through a lie. “Both.”

He appraised her, then seemed satisfied with her answer. “Had a foster mom who was a dance instructor. She thought a boy should know how to dance.”

She wondered what had become of his real parents, but he didn’t offer and she wasn’t asking.

“Haven’t had much use for it till now, though. More of a Texas two-step kind of guy.”

“Two-step? And you’re teaching me a dance with three steps?”

“Fewer steps doesn’t make it easier. All right, enough stalling.”

His approach launched a nervous ripple through her. He stopped a breath away. She stared at the V of his open polo.

“The height difference will be a challenge. It’ll be easier with Max. But for now, you don’t want to stand toe to toe.” He moved to her right until his foot was between hers.

“Put your hand here.”

His upper arm was solid beneath her palm. The heat emanating off him made her own temperature kick up a notch.

“Thumb to the front, fingers to the back. Give me your other hand.”

He curled his hand around hers, and her heart stuttered. Her eyes focused on his leather corded necklace that disappeared under his collar.

“Right, like that.” He settled his hand on her back.

She got a whiff of his woodsy cologne and wondered how long she could hold her breath.

“This is the basic position. It’s important to maintain your space.