Crazy for You (12 page)

“Your drink, sir.”

“Keep them coming.”

“Yessir.”

Andrew lifted the scotch to his lips and let
the liquid burn down this throat. Ah. A man’s drink. None of that
fruity stuff for him.

“Dance with me?”

The voice, a lilting southern drawl, came
from his right. Slowly he turned toward the woman standing not six
inches away. He didn’t need this, he thought. Not another woman
coming on to him and trying to—

Her hips swayed to the music in a slow,
come-hither sort of fashion and suddenly Andrew was riveted to
them. Finally, he followed the wiggle of her body up to her face.
Her eyes were big and warm and brown and batted at him in a
different come-hither sort of way. Her lips were red and pouty and
slightly parted in a—

He set his drink glass on the bar.

“Another one, sir?”

“Keep ‘em coming.”

“Yessir.”

The Southern belle inched forward.

Then he saw her. Just behind the southern
belle-slash-sex goddess. It was hard to miss her; he didn’t know
how he’d missed her before now.

Tall. Very tall. A head above everyone else.
That mane of long brunette hair swirling around her. And her legs.
Oh, God. A dress like that should be outlawed on a woman with legs
that long. The little black dress she wore looked to barely cover
her bottom. And there she was, turning and gyrating and shaking her
bootie to—Shake Your Bootie.

“Want to dance?” The question came again.

Andrew eyed the beauty before him. Then
glanced back to Tasha.

“I don’t do Disco,” he told her.

She sidled up a bit closer. “I can teach you.
I can teach you lots.”

I bet.

“Sorry. No.” When was this southern
belle-slash-sex kitten going to get the message?

“Andrew!”

From out of nowhere Tasha merged on him. For
the first time in two days, he was thankful. Grateful, even.

“Tasha!”

She rushed toward him, took his face between
her two hands, and placed a hard little kiss, right on his
lips.

Momentarily, Andrew was stunned. Frozen to
the spot. No, welded to the spot. He couldn’t move. All he could do
was stare back into Tasha’s eyes. And her eyes were laughing at
him.

Damn, but if her eyes didn’t laugh at
him!

One glance to his right told him that Miss
Georgia Peach had split. Thank God.

“Thank you,” he said to Tasha.

“What’s the matter, she trying to put the
moves on you?” She grinned wickedly then turned to the bartender.
“I’d like anything fruity,” she told him. “Surprise me.” Then with
another wicked smile, she turned all of her attention back to
Andrew.

“Dance with me?”

“I don’t do Disco.”

“I can teach you.”

Andrew swallowed.
Yes. I bet you
could.

Funny how the same words from Tasha evoked
all kinds of images the girl standing beside him earlier did not.
What that meant, he wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t sure he liked it,
either.

He downed his shot of Scotch, winced only
slightly from the burn in his throat, and set the glass back down
on the bar. Glancing to his left, he nodded to the bartender.

“Keep ‘em coming?” he asked.

“And how,” Andrew replied.

****

Tasha watched Andrew throw back his third
shot of Scotch in a very few short minutes. At this rate, she
thought, he wasn’t going to last long. She needed to get him on the
dance floor before he passed out on the dance floor.

“Come on, Andrew. Let’s dance.”

He held the empty glass in front of him like
a shield. “I t-told you—”

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?”

Tasha took the glass out of his hand and set
it on the bar with a thud. Then, taking each of his hands in hers,
she slowly led him out to the very center of the dance floor. He
looked wonderful, she thought, having finally peeled himself out of
that white dress shirt and navy pants. Obviously, he’d taken her
suggestion of shopping to heart. And he didn’t do a half bad job of
it, either.

His eyes were riveted to her and she couldn’t
help but to move provocatively, just a teeny bit, to the music.

He looked cute, so shy and insecure as he
allowed himself to be led into the throbbing masses. He kind of
looked like a lamb being brought to the slaughter, she thought, but
that only amused her more. His eyes never left hers and as she
backed her way into the crowd; she could feel herself itching to be
closer to him.

“Know how to bump?” she asked.

Andrew glanced around. People were dancing
and shouting and moving circles around them. “Uh-uh.”

“It’s easy. Just stand there and watch
me.”

Tasha lifted her arms above her head and
shifted to her left to bump hips with Andrew in time to the music.
Then again.

He just stood there. Watching.

“Think you got it?”

“That’s it?”

“Well, that’s my part,” she replied. “You
have to do the same thing on your end.” She felt like she was
shouting above the music now.

She bumped him again.

He still just stood there.

Someone jostled her from behind pushing her
closer into Andrew. “You know,” she said then, talking very close
into his ear, “disco is sort of like driving on the freeway. If you
don’t move with the flow of traffic, you’re going to get run over.
So we either need to start moving, so we don’t get bumped into the
floor, or, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Oh.” Andrew glanced from side to side.

“So which is it?”

He shook his head. Tasha thought he might be
a little tipsy.

“Dance,” he replied.

Smiling, Tasha nodded. “Go ahead. You can do
it.”

Lifting his arms slightly, he looked
sheepishly at her and lightly touched his hip to hers.

Tasha laughed. “You can do better than that,
can’t you?”

Again, he lifted his arms and shifted to his
right. Tasha bumped him back, nearly throwing him off balance into
a woman dancing behind him. Quickly, he regained his balance.

“That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t ready.”

Shaking her head, Tasha laughed again. “All
right. Let’s try something else.” Stepping closer, she placed a
hand on each of his hips. “Here, put your hands on my hips. Like
what I’m doing.”

Cautiously, narrowing his gaze and watching
her intently, he did. Tasha tried to stifle the grin that wanted to
burst across her face.

“Move like this.” She rotated her hips and
shifted right, then left. “You’ve got to loosen up a bit. Unwind.
Let—”

Suddenly, Andrew jerked her closer. So close,
in fact, paper wouldn’t slide between them.

“Like this?” he whispered. His hands moved
along her hips as he pulled her body into his. The beat of the song
around them was fast, way too fast, Tasha thought. But it seemed
they were suddenly finding a rhythm all their own.

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Like that.”

In the next instant, the boogie beat of disco
fell away to a slow-moving ballad. The lights were lowered and the
crowd hushed.

Couples fell together and Andrew and Tasha
were among them.

Tasha felt Andrew’s arms move around her back
and hold her close. Her hands rose to his shoulders and they swayed
slowly together. His cheek rested again hers and the warm sweetness
of his breath fanned out again her neck.

It seemed like the world stopped there for a
second.

“See,” he whispered after a moment. “I can
dance.”

Tasha closed her eyes and just let herself
feel for a while. They moved together, swaying within the slow,
sultry tune until at last, it stopped.

“Yes, yes you can,” she whispered back. “And
you do it very well.”

Abruptly, the ballad halted and the pulsating
lights were started again. Reluctantly, it seemed, Andrew pulled
away and Tasha was sorry to feel him leave her.

“I think I need to get out of here,” he
said.

Puzzled by the look on his face, Tasha asked,
“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. As he stepped
away, he stumbled and caught himself. “I think I’m about to get run
over on the freeway.”

Grinning, Tasha agreed. “Let me help
you.”

“I’m fine. Just need to—”

A hand reached out from no where and slapped
Andrew on the back. “Andrew, my boy! Into the Disco scene, I
see!”

Tasha watched Andrew’s face curl into an
expression of disgust. Or maybe it was just nausea. She wondered if
he’d eaten today. That scotch on an empty stomach might not fare
too well.

“Doug. Fancy meeting you here.”

The music kicked up it’s beat. Suddenly,
Tasha felt herself be grasped around the waist and pulled away into
the crowd. When she finally had a chance to orient herself, she
found she was looking into the face of Brett Southworth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shouted at
him.

He turned and danced in front of her, a
provocative little samba that was supposed to be sexy, she
supposed.

“Dance with me, why don’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” She turned and headed back
toward Andrew.

He grasped her arm from behind and she
stopped. “What?”

“I said dance with me.”

Glaring at him, she shook her head in
disbelief. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know how you’re used to treating
women in Seattle, but that stuff doesn’t work with me. Get your
hand off of me.”

Brett grinned and she hated that grin. Then
he stepped back and let her go. “Hey, honey. Didn’t mean any harm.
So go back to your boyfriend.”

Tasha turned then whirled back. “He’s not my
boyfriend.”

Brett glanced off and cocked his head to one
side. “Then dance with me.”

“I don’t dance with Neanderthals.”

“Well, your boyfriend seems to be having a
good time over there.”

Glancing in the direction he was looking,
Tasha picked Andrew out of the crowd. There he was. Dancing. With
the bimbo who was trying to pick him up at the bar.

She sidled a glance back at Brett. “So how
much did you pay her to dance with him? What have you got up your
sleeve, you jerk.”

Brett looked straight ahead. “Didn’t have to
pay her a cent. Said she’d be glad to do it for free.”

“I’ll just bet,” Tasha mumbled, making her
way through the crowd.

A few seconds later, she tapped Miss Southern
Hospitality on the shoulder. “My turn, sweetie, I’m cutting
in.”

“Tasha!”

“Hi, Baby!”

Then she repeated the act she’d done earlier
when she’d chased the bimbo away at the bar. She grabbed him on
either side of his face and kissed him. Right on the lips.

He tasted like scotch and toothpaste.

Andrew wrapped his arms around her.

“I was dancing,” he told her.

“I know.”

“I was doing Disco.”

“I know that, too.”

“I’m drunk.”

“Yes. You are. Let’s go back to the
room.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“Too much Scotch,” she replied.

“Too much Disco,” he answered.

And not enough dancing, Tasha thought to
herself.

With me.

Nineteen

Nude in Room 214, Oceanview

Tasha watched Andrew sleeping in the
roll-away bed across the room. His chest lifted with each breath he
took, but his face occasionally grimaced, as if he were having a
bad dream. Or unpleasant thoughts. She’d watched him for a long
time.

Andrew couldn’t find his key and Samuel was
no where to be found, the door to their room locked. So, Tasha did
what she figured was the next best thing and led Andrew back to her
room, tucked him clothes and all into the roll-away, then settled
in for the night, herself.

Her sheet had slipped down to her waist,
exposing her breasts. Andrew had fallen exhausted into bed as soon
as they’d arrived to her room, and she’d decided to risk sleeping
in the nude. It was hot, and she was uncomfortable. She’d be up
before him, anyway.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the cool
night breeze breathed against her breasts, making them taut and
firm and wanting. Or maybe it wasn’t the breeze at all, maybe it
was Andrew. Her mind recalled the feather touch of his fingers on
her earlier while they were dancing. The swift tug as their hip
bones met.

She wondered then, what it would be like
having sex with this left-brained conservative? He wasn’t her type,
was he? Then why was she all of a sudden...well, all right...she’d
been chewing this over for a while...thinking of having sex with
him?

Sex? Would it be merely sex?

The feelings evoked inside of her sure felt
like a whole lot more than that.

For two days now she’d wondered just exactly
why it was that she felt she needed to stay close to Andrew. Was it
because he challenged her and she wanted to see him do something
totally uncharacteristic of himself? Was it because she wanted him
to loosen up a bit and dump some of the conservative attitudes? Or
was it simply because she just wanted him.

Period.

But then once she had him, what was she going
to do with him? Keep him? Like a little lost puppy she’d saved from
the hands of the dog catcher? Her mother always said she had to
have a cause, a project going. Was that what this was? So far she’d
helped save whales, bats, snail darters, pandas, pregnant
teenagers, the homeless, and taught organic farming on an Indian
reservation. Was Andrew her next cause? Save the
Yellow-Crested-Stuffed-Shirted-Pharmaceutical-Salesman from a life
of boredom? Was that the attraction?

She wasn’t after commitment. Not at this
point in her life. Not after she’d just dumped Mark. Commitment had
been her biggest problem with Mark. She’d wanted a relationship
with him, but couldn’t, didn’t know if she wanted, to commit to
what he wanted of her for the rest of her life. She valued Mark for
what he is—her friend. She didn’t want to ruin that with the
commitment of marriage. Free spirits don’t like commitments, do
they? And she was a free spirit, wasn’t she? She’d had too much of
the Bohemian lifestyle drilled into her to deny it.