More Than Meets the Ink Read Free Page B

glided over her, gripping her waist, directing her body, making her hot and flushed with just a slight brush, with no more than a look. His actions seemed casual, but she’d have bet anything he knew damn well the effect he had on women. Probably reveled in it. That knowledge was in his bottomless eyes, in the way his lips curled up every time she blushed. Here was a man used to leading, a take-charge kind of male. And thank God for it because she’d been unable to put one foot in front of the other without tripping over or stepping on him. He must have thought she was musically challenged or terminally stupid, but the truth was her ears had been roaring so badly she’d barely heard the music, let alone any instructions he may have given her.
    She would do well to remember guys like James were bad news, each and every one of them. Fun for a while, but soon their devil-may-care attitude got old. And she should also keep in mind that her last boyfriend—a responsible, well-mannered man—had bailed on her when she’d needed him the most, but not before claiming that her being a drag was a huge turnoff for him. He accused her of getting all needy and clingy too, suffocating him. Well, it wasn’t half his family that had just been buried or his family business going down the drain. Sorry if she was stressed-out, needy, and clingy, unable to be witty and entertaining or put him and his needs first. She didn’t have that luxury; she had responsibilities, even if Aidan hadn’t wanted to share them with her.
    And that was a reliable man, basically a good man. Relationship material. She didn’t want to think what a bad boy would have done.
    As the band took a break, James approached her, all easy smiles and laid-back playfulness, and pulled her out of her mental divagations.
    “Here’s the gorgeous girl that bailed out on me and left me to dance all by myself.”
    “I’m done; no more dancing for me.”
    “I’m done too, dear,” Mrs. Samuels said with a huff as she reached them. “I’m off now. You’ll come by tomorrow to take down the curtains in my living room, yeah?”
    James nodded. “I’ll be there, Mrs. Samuels; don’t worry. And have some of that delicious strawberry pie of yours ready. The last one you gave me I took to the guys in Boston, and they didn’t leave me a crumb.”
    The old lady smiled, obviously pleased. “Yeah, yeah, just let me know when you’re heading back north, and I’ll bake a couple for you. And call me Violet, for Christ’s sake.” She stared at him for a second and then slowly shook her head. “I hope you’ll let me introduce you to my granddaughter. She’s a beauty; she’d make you a great wife.”
    “Oh no no. I told you already, you’re the only one for me,” he said as he grinned at her.
    Violet, easily seventy-five years old, slapped him on the chest and turned to leave. “Flattering rascal,” she murmured while walking away. “Don’t think I’ll let you off the hook with all that nonsense. Next time Tessa comes to visit, I’m hunting you down, do you hear me?”
    Laughing, he turned to Tate. “Mrs. Samuels makes one hell of a strawberry pie. You have to try it.”
    “You’re popular around here,” Tate said, impressed. This place must have an endless supply of granddaughters coming and going. He probably had a revolving door in his bedroom and a mile-long line at the entrance.
    He winked at her. “Well, it’s nothing personal. Having the ability to climb a staircase without dislodging your pelvis will make you extremely popular around here.”
    Tate melted into laughter. How he did that to her, she didn’t know. She hadn’t laughed for so long she’d feared her facial muscles had forgotten how. Apparently not; she’d known the guy less than twenty-four hours, and her face was already sore from the extra exercise.
    “I’ve worked up an appetite with so much dancing. Let’s go for some burritos. What do you say, dance partner, interested? There’s