Bootscootin' Blahniks (19 page)

She cursed under her breath for getting so worked-up.
This was ridiculous
. Not only was she about to dance with a man she’d danced with before, but she was partnering with him as a payment plan. Not as a potential mate.

So what if he’d said he wanted to dance with her even if her debt was paid in full? He probably didn’t want to waste time finding another partner.

Evidently the hot moment they’d shared in Zayne’s family room was an anomaly. He hadn’t made another pass since. Rather he’d been a perfect gentleman, which sort of pissed her off. She just might be ready for more. Although that kiss was hot enough to jar her memory for a lifetime.

With each click of her heels, Roxy bargained with her fear, determined not to let it consume her. She knew what she was doing. She knew her abilities. Few could bootscoot in her league. She may have been closet honky-tonk in the Big Apple, but it was high time she stepped out in Tennessee.

Like they’d practiced, she took her place next to Zayne. The heat from the spotlight reheated her reservations to a slow boil. Her arms rested at her sides, limp like overcooked asparagus. She shifted her weight onto her bad ankle, hoping for pain so she felt something other than pulsating, panicked numbness. Her stomach muscles contracted tight while her nerves shot through her in archery goddess mode.

Waiting for the music to start, she stole a quick look at her partner, hoping to bolster her courage. She counted on the smug grin he wore when he danced. But when her eyes met Zayne’s, the sparked assuredness she’d expected had been replaced by a goofy daze. Not what she wanted or needed with only a few measures left before show time.

She thought about her predicament for give or take two seconds. Then…she kissed him.

Yep. Just like that. She threw him a curve smooch. No pretense. No hint of more to come. Just a luscious sweet peck. Square in the middle of his lips.
Damn he tasted fine
.

With her eyes wide open, shocked at her own brazen act, Roxy’s mind kicked her ass into gear to the beat of the band while her heart exploded like Independence Day fireworks.

The crowd cheered.
At least they approved
.

“Thanks. I needed that, partner,” Zayne said as he snapped out of his funk in time to make the first down beat.

He hooked his arm through hers and pulled her towards him, tipping his hat and giving her a sexy wink.

So much for always being in control of the situation, Roxy thought. Between Zayne’s wicked wink and his dance hardened, no-squats-left-behind legs gyrating to the count, Roxy was Jell-o.

As they made their first tour around the floor, their hips settled against each other. Roxy let herself go. She followed Zayne’s lead, feeling him more than the music. Her rhythm was dictated by the strength of his arms, not by the instruments stringing the song. Surrendering her reservations, she melted her body to his and found her perfect match.

Moving seamlessly through the step sequences they’d rehearsed, they syncopated as a couple besides showcasing their individual styles. Her ballroom grace blended-in stride with his rodeo cool. Performing two steps and attitude for every beat, they moved with ease from an 8-beat dance to a 6-beat waltz, two-stepping with the balanced perfection of a couple partnered for years. Handling the dance’s fast travel and multiple turns without a hitch, they glided across the floor in fluid form. Comfortable with the choreography. Comfortable with each other. Comfortable with their new life as they gave into its unique rhythm.

With Zayne at her side, Roxy had found a happy place. A safe place where she could be herself and abandon her pretenses, without giving a shit what the neighbors thought.

But could she follow this dream? Was she strong enough to disappoint her parents again? Was she comfortable enough with herself to accept Zayne into her life as more than her dance partner?

As he whisked her through their last turns, she laughed out loud causing him to crinkle his eyebrows in question.

Only a girl with her crazy karma could fall in love while two-steppin’ to Mickey Gilley’s ‘Stand By Me’, Roxy thought. There’d be hell to pay bringing a cowboy home as a potential suitor. She’d damn well better be sure Zayne McDonald was what she wanted.

As the song ended, Zayne leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You’re amazing, Rox. And beautiful. I’m the luckiest man in Tennessee.”

When his lips met hers, she believed him.

If she had the nerve to continue riding in this fascinating romantic rodeo, she’d lasso herself a cowboy.

They waltzed through the last two songs of their first set, bowing for what seemed like an eternity before walking arm-in-arm to the table where Audrey, Jules, Damian and Cody waited.

“Damn, girl,” Jules yelled over the crowd.

She bounced up from her chair and wrapped her slender arms around Roxy in a ferocious hug before nestling back into her seat next to Cody. “You two were on fire.”

Cody slid his tanned, farm-toned arm around Jules, resting his hand on her gym-sculpted shoulder. “Gotta agree with my hot date about that. Wow! Zayne, you’d better hang onto Roxy. She makes
you
look good.”

“Thanks, asshole.” Zayne threw a playful punch at Cody’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and your gutless wonder of a cousin take your dates for a spin? Or do you need a lesson first?”

“Leave me out of this,” Damian said, followed by a swallow of beer from a bottle too small for a man his size. “You know I don’t get on that floor much.”

The intro to Little Big Town’s ‘Bring It on Home’ hit the saloon’s speakers.

“Oh, I love this song,” Audrey put her pretty-as-porcelain hand on Damian’s forearm and batted her long lashes over her crystal blue eyes.

“I sure can’t disappoint a doll like you.” Damian stood and pushed back his chair. “C’mon, Cody. Get your ass moving. Jules wants to dance too.”

Damian winked at Jules, earning a conspirator more than up to the task.

Jules returned Damian’s mischief with a daring smile, her ruby red lipstick in perfect contrast to her high dollar dental work. “You bet I do. Off your ass, Cody. I’ve got some new moves I’d like to try.”

She hooked her arm through Cody’s, pulling him from his seat, leaving him scrambling to keep up with her.

“You two joining us?” Cody looked to Roxy with wide, cognac-colored eyes begging for moral support.

“I think we’ll take a rest ’til our next set,” she said and cozied up to Zayne. “Have at it. Jules won’t bite…too hard anyway.”

Zayne pulled Roxy closer to him, taking her heart too. It was time to rethink her approach. No more would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. She was taking this cowboy off the circuit. She did, however, need to figure out how to get him onto her family’s A-list.

She sipped at the apple martini Audrey had ordered her. What a great night. The cowboy of her dreams. Good friends. And judging by the success of her match-up of Jules and Audrey with Zayne’s buddies, she had new posse potential.

Roxy looked at Zayne, pleased to find he was fixated on her. Her breath caught in her throat. She inhaled deeply, letting his spicy cologne permanently burn into her memory.

He took her hand and moved it across his mouth, sending her body into a sensual tizzy. ‘Down, girl.’ To keep from pouncing onto his lap, she coached herself like one of her dogs. Searching his intense eyes, Roxy took comfort imagining Zayne fighting similar urges.

“Excuse me for interrupting.”

Roxy heard the business-like tone of a male voice in front of their table but ignored it.

“Sorry to interrupt.” The man behind the voice evidently hadn’t accepted her dismissal.

The lean, sharp-suited, city slicker slid a card onto their table. “I’m Howard Nosebaum. From Creative Reality Agency. We’re working with the Bravo Network to create a country reality show like ABC’s Dancing with the Stars. You two and The Neon Cowboy are exactly what we’re looking for.”

Nosebaum moved his neck around his fitted collar like a nervous turtle, as if he were shaking off the burden of his first move, preparing for pitch two.

Roxy — too shocked to respond right away — looked at Zayne needing confirmation she’d really heard what she’d swear she’d heard. Disbelief mixed with a reserved intrigue marked Zayne’s face. He picked up Nosebaum’s business card, running his fingers along the thick cardstock edges.

“The Bravo Network? You want us and my mother’s saloon for what exactly, Mr. —” Zayne searched the card. “Mr. Nosebaum.”

“May I sit down?” Nosebaum gestured to Damian’s empty chair.

“Sure. But we’re due back out there after this song.” Zayne leaned back, appearing interested, but not overly so.

Roxy tried to adopt Zayne’s smooth edge even though she desperately wanted to jump up, hug the man, and ask him where to sign. Adjusting her halter-top because fidgeting with her clothes always made her feel more in control, Roxy composed herself, squaring her plunging neckline with Mr. Nosebaum’s perfect posture.

She concentrated on feeding off Zayne’s quiet, understated power, a quality she found attractive but impossible to emulate. There was something about a man who made you aware he had strength without blatant exhibitions. And Zayne nailed that icy hot mix.

Mr. Nosebaum sat down and took an envelope out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ll make this brief. Then if you’re interested, we can schedule a meeting in a day or two.”

Nice suit
.
Hand-tailored
.
Silk
.
Perfect tie
. Roxy liked what she saw on Nosebaum. But she’d learned, thanks to her father’s similar tactics, not to be too quick trusting a man
that
polished on the surface. Although, she did take comfort in the fact Nosebaum seemed miserable in his high class get-up. Maybe he wasn’t the stuffed suit he couldn’t quite pull-off.

“Fair enough.” Zayne left the envelope on the table, maintaining the unwavering aloofness of a pro.

Zayne’s approach was killing Roxy. What would it hurt to show a little excitement for cripe’s sake?

“Most everything you’ll want to consider is in the packet here.” Nosebaum tapped the white envelope with a finger donning a fabulous black onyx and platinum ring. “You’ve seen the ballroom version of the show, but we’re ready for a country set and dance element.”

He ran his hands down his tie, smoothing what was already pristine.

“The Neon Cowboy’s certainly a perfect location,” Zayne responded, rotating Nosebaum’s card between his fingers.

Zayne looked at Roxy.

Cognizant his eyes were talking, but clueless as to what he was trying to tell her, Roxy faked understanding, winking and nodding her head in agreement. Acting as if she were on him like butter, encouraging him to do God knew what.

“And as for my partner and my involvement, we’ll take a look at your info and get back with you.” Zayne put the card in his shirt pocket.

“How long are you in town?” Roxy used the same casual demeanor as Zayne, despite her giddiness.

“Through next Sunday. I need to scope out the city for the show’s producers.” Nosebaum loosened his tie.

“We’ll be in touch way before then,” she said, before Zayne could balk. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Nosebaum. You’ll get a better feel for the area without that fabulous suit holding you back. I happen to know a little about fashion. How about if I take you over to The Neon Cowboy’s western wear and gift corral on your way out tonight?”

Zayne may have power, but Roxy had charm, and she could turn it up a notch when she needed to reel in a big fish.

“His gear’s on the house, Roxy.” Zayne stated his approval then squeezed Roxy’s palm with his fingers, his overly firm grip effectively silencing her.

Okay…so he must have wanted to take back the upper hand. Got it, Roxy thought. But he’d better not blow this amazing opportunity.

“Thank you, Mr. McDonald.” Nosebaum stood as the music ended. “I’ll take you up on Ms. Vaughn’s fashion expertise, but the network will foot the bill. You’re both worth the investment. Looks like you’re up again. I’m going to move closer so I can see better. Thank you for your time.”

“You bet. We’ll be in touch.” Zayne shook Nosebaum’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Roxy said and thought about shaking the man’s hand too. She hugged him instead, enjoying the look of horror taking over Zayne’s once cool exterior.

“I’ll set some things out for you in the corral. Medium shirt. Pants 30-36. And size 10, medium width shoes. Right?”

Nosebaum smiled and raised his brow. “Yes, Ms. Vaughn, that’s correct.”

“Roxy. Call me, Roxy.” She smiled then shrugged her shoulders, showing him nothing but sweet satisfaction.

“Call me Howie…I mean Howard,” Nosebaum said, his face turning a blushed pink that matched his shirt.

Zayne stammered like a bull, his body rigid, waiting for the gate to open for a ride. He pulled Roxy toward the dance floor in a heated fury.

“Howie? Give me a fuckin’ break,” Zayne cursed and picked-up his pace.

“Not so aloof now are we, cowboy?”

Score one for the cowgirl
.

“So tell us everything,” Audrey gushed when the six of them were back at the table. “This could be a fantastic avenue for Raeve! You did consider that, didn’t you, Roxy?”

Roxy should have but was too embarrassed to admit otherwise. “Um. Yeah. Got it.”

“What do you mean ‘got it,’ Rox?” Audrey’s wheels were clearly in ultra commercial mode. “Can you imagine your sales if America saw your quirky take on country fashion — prime time, every week?”

“Audrey, Mom’s gonna snag you up for the saloon’s PR if you keep talking like that,” Zayne said, using his napkin to wipe off the condensation dripping down his beer bottle. “Raeve will be a hoppin’ madhouse with you two commercial wizards on board.”

Audrey also picked up her napkin, but not for condensation control. Taking a pen out of her Balenciaga bag, she jotted notes on marketing and doodled logo and tag lines, totally taken up by her promotional instincts.

Damn, Roxy was glad to be back in her and Jules’ company. With a cowboy romance and dance stars on the horizon, she needed her friends’ solicited and unsolicited sanity checks. Thinking about all these changes and possibilities made Roxy’s head hurt. She was used to acting first, examining the whys and consequences if and only if she’d been knocked off her horse.