“Okay then, bandmaster. Take us away,” George called and sat back in his seat.
The band started up, a soaring number with orchestral strings and a fabulous cello part played on the bandmaster’s keyboard. Her heart was swept up with the incredible music to a point somewhere close to the center of the high-arched theater ceiling. Her head swayed, and she wanted nothing more than to be pulled up into someone’s arms and swung around the stage. Someone with a broad chest at the perfect height for her to rest her head on. Someone just like Dylan Johns.
Stop it. You’re working.
The stage began to brighten, and in among the props Michaela discerned the smallest amount of movement. “Oh,” she gasped. Two statues were actually people, painted white and now moving through the set.
“You like?” George’s grin flashed brightly even in the dimmed light of the audience. “That Dylan makes a better statue than anything made of stone,” he whispered.
He was right. Dylan’s perfectly ripped stomach muscles could have been made of marble, and the set of his jaw under this lighting was heroic. He was simply pure man. Michaela’s eyes almost licked his body as Dylan moved lithely to grasp one of the female dancers and toss her effortlessly into the air. The two of them glided through a duet, elegant and athletic. It was the single sexiest thing she’d seen in a long time. A memory of being forced to attend ballet lessons as a child flooded back to Michaela, but this was nothing like the stilted recitals she remembered. This was hard, fast, and delicious—and definitely not just for little girls. As she watched Dylan’s muscles ripple through each move, she shook her head.
“How do they get out of all that makeup in time for the next number?” she asked.
“It’s only makeup on the face. It’s a skintight sheath over the rest of them—barely opaque.”
“Oh,” Michaela said, suddenly disappointed. She had visions of the body paint coming off on her hands as she stroked Dylan’s torso.
“Where did you find him?” George asked.
“He was given to me.”
“Well, you should thank your guardian angel. He is going to make my life such a lovely one, and in return I’m going to produce the most amazing dance works you have ever seen. This ship is going to be famous, darling.”
Michaela felt the smile settle over her like warm sand, and she relaxed into the rest of the performance. Clapping and cheering when the other numbers were performed, she enjoyed the whole spectacle as the six dancers built up into a frenzy of French cabaret complete with electric cancan and acrobatics as the boys tossed the girls around.
At the end, George grabbed her hand and dragged her up onto the stage. The two of them applauded the dancers, singers, and band.
“Spectacular, darlings. Jake, you were a bit off in that second piece, but we needed you to be out of time, otherwise how would we have a spectacular opening night? Thank you, sweet thing.” George waved his hand enthusiastically. One of the shorter male dancers blushed beneath his makeup.
“I didn’t even notice,” Michaela said, her mind full of the thrill of the show. She felt uncharacteristically magnanimous.
“You hear that? Our cruise director thought you were beyond wonderful. And that’s huge. She only gives out praise when it’s absolutely necessary.”
“I don’t believe that,” said a strong male voice.
Michaela looked up.
“I think she just knows a good thing when she sees it,” Dylan said defiantly.
George laughed. “Perhaps you’re right. You were wonderful, all of you. I feel a little dance coming on myself. Bandmaster, give us something to celebrate!”
The band kicked into a sassy rumba, and George grabbed a young dancer and led her through a hip-wiggling routine. The band showed no sign of slowing down, so the other two boys grabbed the twins who made up the rest of the dance team and joined in. That left Michaela standing about awkwardly until Dylan took her hand and pulled her into his chest, just like she’d pictured. Her head was at the perfect height to rest on his broad pecs, and his hand encased her smaller one completely. Somehow he managed to part her legs a little with his own, and soon her groin was pressed into his as they swayed to the music.
Breathe in, breathe out, you’re in control, you’re in charge.
Her mantra didn’t work. In fact, the proximity to him made her nervous and clumsy. It had been well over a year since the heat of a man had transferred to the skin of her body, and it sure was showing.
Damn, damn. Breathe in, breathe out.
Her awkwardness made her doubly self-conscious. “I’m sorry, sorry,” Michaela kept saying as she stumbled and tripped through the steps, even with her legs guided by his and her hand and back held firmly by his large, warm palms.
“Stop apologizing. Let the music take you,” Dylan said gruffly. He pushed her out into a twirl before whipping her back into his chest. “That’s it. Let your hips go, and relax your shoulders.”
He made it sound like she was messing up the steps on purpose. How could one man generate such contradictory emotions in her? Safe and warm in his arms, and yet flustered and out of control at the same time. Michaela tried, but she didn’t feel like she was getting it at all, especially as the thrill of being in Dylan’s arms threatened to turn her whole being to jelly. And she felt even worse when she looked up for a second and saw the other dancers performing spectacular triple spins and lifts.
“You don’t have to do flashy moves for a dance to be good,” Dylan said. For the first time, she looked up into those green eyes at close quarters. They might as well have been dynamite for the effect they had on her concentration.
She’d never seen eyes like his before—light liquid at the center, with a ring of deep blue-green, almost aquamarine, on the outside. They really were like the Pacific Ocean. Framed by his light olive face, the color was brilliant—luminous, even—and entirely unsettling. She stumbled yet again.
But as the music continued, she did relax a little and found that she stopped thinking so much about the steps, instead following Dylan’s lead. Her proximity to his body, coated as it was in a layer of perspiration, sent shivers up her spine.
By the time the music stopped, all her muscles hummed with warmth, and she found she was actually enjoying herself. Sheesh, with her determination to be taken seriously in her senior role, she’d forgotten the simple pleasure of being held by another body
As the last note died away, the others all clapped and cheered, but Michaela found herself dropped into a dip, and Dylan’s lips descending over hers.