Part 27 (1/2)
”Perhaps you'd prefer to dance barefooted. That should suit you better and provide entertainment for everyone.”
”Hmmm. Maybe you're right, at that. Might put a little life into this party. I don't know about you, but I'd rather be back in the jungle, climbing pyramids and slogging through the mud and battling mosquitos and scorpions. That's the lifea””
He didn't respond. He was searching the room again as the musicians came back from their break and began to tune up. Mac followed his look and did a double take.
Good grief. That masked man with the cape, crossing the room directly to Caroline, was Perry. He was going to ask Caroline to dance. She was still laughing as she turned to him; she stopped and went very still.
Liam was watching. Liam was clearly wondering, and he was getting ready toa”
”Liam!” Mac said brightly. ”Since you're talking to me again, why don't you ask me to dance?”
He glanced at her, distracted, and slowly focused on her face. ”I thought you didn't dance.”
”This is a waltz, isn't it? That I can do, more or less. And since you've been there, maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”
His grin was startling. ”You tempt me, Mac.” He flashed one last look across the room, but the dance had begun and Caroline and Perry were lost in a crowd of couples. He held out his hand. ”Will you do me the honor, Miss MacKenzie?”
She gripped his fingers. ”Of course, Mr. O'Shea. Wouldn't want to disappoint you.”
Liam maneuvered them into the dance with surprising grace. Mac concentrated on keeping pace with him until she got the rhythm.
”You're not as bad as you claimed, Mac,” he said.
But after the first few steps Mac wasn't thinking about her feet. She was thinking about other parts of her body, and his: the heat of his hand at her waist, burning through the layers of cloth as if they were nothing; the strength of his fingers joined with hers, cradling them as if they were fragile; the breadth of his chest brus.h.i.+ng her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the flex of muscles beneath his trousers, the width of his shoulder under her palm.
”You seem preoccupied,” Liam said, his tone oddly husky. ”Nothing to say, for once?”
”Ia I'm trying not to step on your feet.”
Liam whirled her about so that they danced at the very edge of the crowd. ”Come, Mac. This will be our last dance together. We should make the most of it.”
”Last dance” didn't sound very good at all. ”It's also our first,” she quipped. ”Can't expect to be Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.”
”Another of your strange jests? I may not be this Astaire, but perhaps I can make up for the lapse.”
And he did, with a vengeance. As the next phrase of the waltz began he pulled her into a ferocious embrace that carried her like a whirlwind about the room.
No formality here, holding her at arm's length; not for Mac the swirling, floating waltz of a Scarlett O'Hara in her crinolines. The bustle required a more sedate, boxlike motion, but Liam pushed well beyond anything sedate. Mac didn't have to concentrate on her steps; Liam controlled every move. He made the waltz the devil's dance people had once named it.
The air left Mac's lungs and never quite returned. Liam's breath sighed against her temple, her cheek, her lips. His arm was like a vise around her waist.
”Are you enjoying yourself now, Mac?” he asked.
”I'm still trying to decide if you're breaking a social rule.”
”By dancing with a scapegrace vixen?”
”No. By trying to see if we can occupy the same s.p.a.ce at the same time.”
His chuckle held an edge. ”Ah. You mean this.” He pulled her impossibly closer, so that she could feel every b.u.mp and plane on his body from knee to chest. ”We know each other, Mac. Why should we be formal?”
”Does that mean you finally think of me as a friend?”
”Friend?” His mouth was very close to her ear. ”I don't make friends with women.”
”What a thing to say to a lady,” she said. ”But then again, you've pointed out that I'm not a lady.”
”Admitting the truth at last? I could almost admire your honesty.”
”That's a start. I'll bet you could find something else to admire if you worked at it.”
”You may even be right, Mac.” His voice had gone lower still, almost caressing. s.h.i.+vers raced from the nape of Mac's neck to the base of her spine. An area Liam was rubbing with the palm of his handa ”This is much nicer,” she said quickly, ”than the silent treatment you've been giving me. Formality puts up so many barriers between people, doesn't it?”
”Rather like a corset,” he said, ”which you are not wearing.”
His hand flexed on her waist in emphasis. d.a.m.n it, she was blus.h.i.+ng, and it had been her choice to dump the torture devicea”without telling Caroline, of course. No one would know the difference, unless they were holding her the way Liam wasa ”You're right,” she said. ”I'm not. Where I come from, we don't need that kind of armor to protect ourselves.”
”You speak as if you had something to protect.”
She flashed her teeth. ”Not anything I can't defend on my own.”
Liam held her eyes so long and intently that she almost lost her footing. Good grief, he wasn't making it easy for her to work up the nerve for what she was preparing to do.
”Do you expect to be defending it soon, Mac?” he asked.
”I guess that depends, doesn't it?” She threw herself into the image of what she must try to be from now ona”the shameless hussy he'd always claimed she was. ”I can't think of too many temptations. There are only so many good men in the world.”
”And less who'd fall for your wiles.”
”You think so? But then again, you never did finish what you started in the jungle, so you'll probably never know.”
His steps faltered and he caught himself, muttering an apology to the couple they'd nearly collided with. Mac felt real hope thena”hope that she'd awakened something in him, if only uncertaintya”enough uncertainty to set him off course, to delay his plans for one more daya But his mouth hardened. ”It won't matter,” he said. ”Not when this dance is over.”
”Wrong, Liam,” she said softly. ”I think you need a bit of reminding.”
With a tug and a wrench she took the lead, turning them toward the edge of the ballroom. There was a convenient row of decorative pillars close to one wall. Mac maneuvered Liam behind one of them and shoved him against it.
”As I said,” she purred, ”it's time for a few reminders.”
And she kissed him for all she was worth, hard, pulling his head down to hers. He was stiff for about half a second, then crushed the breath out of her as if he were a human corset. His lips ground on hers, and his tongue pushed inside with potent force.
It was just as it had been in the junglea”as wild, as crazy, as overwhelming. It was challenge given and accepted, a battle royal between two people determined to claim victory. Until something changed. Mac almost lost the memory of her purpose, almost melted, almost let the kiss last far too long.
But she heard the music stop somewhere very far away, and that was enough. She pulled back, meeting his unguarded gaze with naked triumph.