Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(34)

No noodle arms, got it?”

“Got it.” She stiffened her arms, all the better to keep him at a distance.

“Let’s go through the basic box step slow. I’ll count it off.”

She drew in a breath and blew it out slowly through her mouth.

“Five. Six. Seven. Eight. One-two-three. One—that was my foot.”

“I know that was your foot.” She pulled her arms away and rubbed the back of her neck with her cold hand. She couldn’t think when he was so close. Didn’t like the way he made her feel, all agitated and nervous and awkward. Why was she doing this to herself?

“Let’s try again.”

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“You’ll get it.” He took her in his arms.

Meridith took another calming breath. Focus.

He counted them off and took them slowly through the box step. This time she made it around without treading on him.

“You got it. Again.” They repeated the box step a dozen more times, faltering a few times when she stepped on his foot or knocked him with her knee.

“Again,” he said over and over each time she misstepped.

When they were almost up to tempo, Meridith started feeling more confident. She could do this. One-two-three, one-two-three.

She was doing this.

“Straighten up, Quasimodo.”

Did he have to be so rude? She shot him a glare. If it was posture he wanted, it was posture he’d get. She pulled herself up to her full five foot three.

In her concentration on posture, her steps suffered, and she trod on his foot.

He stopped. “Too much give in your arms. When they’re loose, I can’t lead you. You can’t feel where you need to go. Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes. Communication between partners is through subtle movements. I’m waiting.”

She sighed hard but closed her eyes. Suddenly all the periphery details now took center stage. The feel of his fingers on her back, his thumb aligned under her arm. The roughness of his palm against hers. The manly smell of him.

“Maintain resistance.”

No problem there.

“Your arms are like spaghetti, Meri.”

“Meridith.” She stiffened her arms. Her mouth felt as dry as sand. She didn’t like that he could see her and she couldn’t see him.

“Better. Let’s go through the box step again with your eyes closed. Feel me guiding you with my arms.” He counted them off, and they started around the box slowly.

Her feet knew what to do by now, and he was right. She could feel him guiding her if she kept her arms rigid. They went around and around the square. She never stepped on his feet, though she felt the slight brush of his thigh against hers.

He gradually picked up the tempo, then held it once they reached a reasonable pace. Her movements were starting to feel almost fluid, if not exactly graceful. She could do this. Max was going to be so happy. Those boys wouldn’t have any reason to make fun of him when they saw him onstage tonight. She could hardly wait to see his face when—

Meridith didn’t know what happened. One moment she was glorying in her achievement, the next their feet were in a tangle, and she was falling backward.





Eighteen

Jake caught Meridith as she stumbled backward, tightening his arms around her. He pulled her toward him instinctively, breaking her fall.

She clutched his hand, his shoulder, helpless against gravity.

He drew her upright and realized she was nestled against his chest. Then he realized something else.

He liked it.

His right arm had curled around her impossibly small waist. His other hand trapped hers against his heart. He wondered if she could feel its heavy thumps. If she knew it was more than her sudden stumble that caused it.

Her moss green eyes widened. Her lips parted as if she were surprised to find herself pressed against him. He could feel her breaths coming and going, feel the warm puffs of air against his neck.

Have mercy, he wanted to kiss her. Lay one on her and let the pieces fall where they may.

Sudden strains of music broke the silence. Meridith blinked, then dropped her arms and jerked away like he’d electrocuted her.

“My phone,” she mumbled, racing for her purse on the check-in desk.

Jake’s empty arms complained. He turned and made a production of looking for a song on the iPod.

Behind him, Meridith answered the phone. “Hi, Stephen.”

He reveled in the breathless sound of her voice even as he cursed a man he didn’t know.

“Oh, nothing, I—was just helping Max with a—a project. Dancing, actually. I’m going to be in a talent show with him tonight. It was kind of a last-minute thing, but I think . . . Yes, I said dancing . . .”

Jake flipped through the tunes, unseeing. She probably wished they were done, but he still had to teach her to travel, and she and Max had to practice together.

“Actually, I’m doing pretty well.”

He grinned to himself, remembering the near fall she’d just had. Then he remembered what came afterward, and the grin slipped away.

“I am. Listen, I have to go. Klutzes like me take time to teach.”

Jake placed the iPod back in the dock and turned.

“No, I’m not mad.” She’d lowered her voice to a near whisper. “All right. Bye.”