Page 27 of The Christmas Arrangement

Dancing Around the Truth

Dash

* * *

I lead Ivy to the crowded parquet dance floor at the front of the tent. The DJ waves energetically to Ivy, light pink box braids bouncing off her tawny brown shoulders, bare in her off-the-shoulder white fur trimmed Mrs. Claus dress, as she dances behind her table.

“Hey, Nebula,” Ivy calls to her over the thumping beat.

DJ Nebula winks at her and flashes a sly smile before she leans into her mic and drawls in a voice like honey. “Okay merriment makers, let’s slow it down with Leslie Odom, Jr., and Cynthia Erivo’s version of ‘Winter Song.’”

The bass fades out, and the crowd quiet as the opening strands of the ballad fill the air. Ivy gazes up at me with those impossibly big green eyes. “It’s showtime, I guess.”

I grin down at her and place my right hand on her hip to tug her toward me. She swallows hard as she rests her left hand on the front of my shoulder. Even in the high-heeled boots, she’s not tall enough to reach my neck. The fingers of my left hand and her right weave together as we sway gently to the song’s slow rhythm. Her heart beats against my sweater. After a moment, she lowers her gaze and rests her cheek on my chest. Before I can stop myself, I dip my head and breathe in the scent of her warm skin and silky hair.

“You smell like those champagne roses,” I murmur against her neck. It’s a heady floral scent of spice, fruit, and honey. “Your perfume?”

She laughs, a soft vibration against my chest. “No, occupational hazard.”

I inhale again and reflexively press her closer, trapping our hands between our bodies. I forget the cameras, the onlookers, the deal. All I can think about is how much I want her. No, I need her.

The thought is an alarm bell breaking through my desire. Danger. This woman could destroy you.

My involuntary groan startles her, and she pulls back, craning her neck to look up at me. “Is something wrong?”

In response I make a throaty sound that could mean anything—or nothing. I swallow and try again. “How long is this song anyway?”

She laughs lightly, and I relax. She hasn’t picked up on my panic or my want.

The song finally ends. Before I can lead her off the dance floor, another song starts up. Another slow one. Ivy moves back into place, her body pressed close against mine and I throw the DJ a look over her head. In return, Nebula shoots finger guns at me and grins like she’s doing me a favor. She probably thinks she is.

Three, maybe four, more minutes of torture. I’ve filmed standing waist-deep in ice water for hours. I can sway with a beautiful woman in my arms for one more song.

I’ve almost convinced myself when Ivy says, “You never answered me—about your favorite holiday tradition.”

I close my eyes for a beat. I’d hoped asking her to dance would get me out of answering this question. Not only did that not work, now I’m once again having to fight my attraction to her. Great work, Dash.

Then I mentally shrug. If nothing else, this crappy topic ought to tamp down my desire.

“I don’t really have any,” I say to the top of her head.

She stops moving in my arms and cranes her neck to study my face. “Not even one?”

“My mom had me when she was nineteen and raised me on her own. Between working nights and spending her days driving me around to auditions and acting classes, she just about had time to make sure I did my schoolwork and all the other parenting things—you know, shopping, cooking, whatever. We didn’t have the time, or frankly, the money, to really celebrate the holidays.”

“Oh.” Her voice is small and sad.

“It was fine. I didn’t know any different when I was younger. And then once I landed the role as Vlad, we traveled on winter breaks.”

She’s quiet for a moment, considering this. “What about your grandparents?”

“What about them?”

“You didn’t spend holidays with them when you were little?”

“She moved to Los Angeles when she was eighteen, the day after she graduated high school. Her parents weren’t thrilled about that. Then when she got pregnant and decided to keep me, they disowned her.”

She squeezes my hand and makes a little sound.