Enchanting Melody (2 page)

Normally, he could recite this spiel in his sleep, but today he was struggling to concentrate. There were too many variables splitting his attention. First, he had to keep his eye on the rest of the class to be sure they were keeping up. Next, he had to help his timid partner who was fighting him every step of the way. And finally, he was trying to keep his hands from sliding off her tiny top to her bare skin.

“Not so much resistance, Melody,” he said to her, then louder to the class, “Followers should be pushing against the leader's shoulder
lightly
. Keep in mind we're dancing, not wrestling.”

Melody wrinkled her nose. “Why do you keep calling us followers?”

At this proximity, Will was tempted to whisper his answer directly into her ear. Instead, he forced himself to remain in instructor mode. “Did you hear that, class? Melody would like to know why I keep referring to the ladies as followers. Anyone want to answer that question?”

A stocky young man with swarthy Italian features piped up, “Because the men are always in charge.” A few of the women in the class groaned.

“That's right, on the dance floor, the men are always the leaders. It's the woman's job to receive signals from the man and follow through. Now let's try the step together.”

Will continued to try and lead the class while dancing with Melody, but it was becoming obvious that she wasn't picking up the movements as quickly as the rest of the class. “Whoa, Melody, you don't move until I move.”

She released an exasperated breath. “Then why bother teaching me the step at all if I'm not allowed to do it? I can be your little puppet, and you can move my legs for me.”

Startled by her outburst, Will reminded himself that first-time dancers became frustrated easily. He tried to soothe her by speaking softly. “Learning to follow isn't easy. It's a skill, just like leading. You'll pick it up eventually.”

A rumble of voices caught Will's attention, and he realized that he'd gotten so caught up in helping Melody that he'd neglected the rest of the class. He'd failed to stagger the couples at the start of the lesson, and now they'd danced themselves into a crowded jumble in one corner of the room.

“I'm sorry, class, this is my fault. Let me have three couples on the right side of the room and four on the left.” Will left Melody to practice a few steps on her own as he made his rounds to the other couples. Then he led Melody to the center of the room once again.

“How are you doing? Think you've got it now?” He pulled her into position before she could respond. “Good, now let's try the patterns all together. Slow, slow, side step…slow, slow—don't step back so far, Melody, you're going to—”

Will tried to catch her, but it was too late. Melody's rubber-soled boots stopped short, but her body kept going and she slipped through his grasp. With a pathetic thud, she landed on her backside at his feet.

“Thank you, class. That will be all for today.”

T
he
dance instructor offered a hand to help Melody to her feet, but she pushed him away and dragged herself up. “I've got it.”

She spun around, making a beeline for the exit. Stephanie had wasted her money. Walking on hot coals carrying an anvil was time well spent compared to this.

“Hold on! Melody, wait.” Will caught up with her and halted her with a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Did you injure yourself?”

When she didn't immediately turn, he held her shoulder firmly and spun her around. The bold, masculine move surprised her, and his touch shot through her like an electrical jolt. Heat rushed to her cheeks so quickly, they tingled. Melody jerked out of his grasp, annoyed at Will for having the nerve to reduce her to mush—and at herself for complying.

This wasn't right. She didn't get all gooey inside every time an attractive man looked her way. On the contrary,
she
was the one to turn men into jiggling mounds of jelly. They found
her
intimidating—as well they should.

She lifted her chin. “I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine.”

“Please accept my apology. That spill you just took was entirely my fault.”

“Damn, you're smooth,” she whispered.

“What?”

Dear Lord, had she really just said that out loud? Just when she thought things couldn't possibly get worse…“I mean, how could my clumsiness be your fault? It's obvious that I don't belong here.”

“Nonsense, it's my job to maintain the frame. I got distracted and let it go slack. That's why you fell.”

Melody opened and closed her mouth. Was this guy for real? Nobody had
that
much class.

She'd grown up surrounded by the wealthy upper crust, and they were some of the most entitled, unapologetic types she'd known. But this guy was nothing like them—despite the fact that everything about him screamed money, from his diamond-studded watch to his designer slacks and silk crew-neck shirt.

Maybe he hadn't been born wealthy. That would explain it. On his hands, as well-manicured as they were, she'd felt a few masculine ridges that hinted at physical labor.

Nevertheless, he wasn't her type at all. Way too clean-cut. She was so over neatly-cropped hair and a clean shave. But when he smiled, his straight white teeth made a striking contrast against his deep brown skin. And his chocolate-brown eyes were filled with kindness. Her heart jumped in her chest.

This was getting too weird. Time to cut and run. “Look, this isn't working out, so I'm not going to waste any more of your time or mine.”

His brow wrinkled. “Don't tell me you're not coming back.”

She scoffed. “Oh, I'm telling
you
before you tell
me
.”

“You can't give up. You just need to relax a little.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “No, I was awful.”

“It's only natural that you'd feel tense standing before the entire class. Believe me, you'd do much better with no one watching. Come here.” Will held out his hand.

“Now?”

“Of course. I don't have any more classes this evening. I want you to see that you can learn to dance.” He flicked the switch on the stereo remote, turning on the music. “Come here.”

Reluctantly, Melody moved into his arms. He was right, it was a lot different without anyone watching…but not in the way that he'd meant.

Suddenly she noticed the intoxicating scent of his cologne. She saw his biceps bulging underneath his shirt. And she was very aware of the proximity of their bodies.

She was so overwhelmed by all these new sensations that she forgot her anxiety over dancing. Mel let herself be swept across the floor in his arms.

“That's it. See what a difference it makes when you relax and trust your partner?”

Melody looked down and lost her footing, throwing them out of sync. She swore under her breath.

“It's okay, we'll pick it back up. Slow, slow, side step. Just follow me.”

Melody tried to repeat the rhythm over and over in her head so as not to embarrass herself again. “I think I'm getting it.”

“That's right. All you have to do is trust me. You don't even have to know the moves ahead of time. Watch.” Will broke their frame and twirled her in a circle and turned her at an angle in several more complicated patterns.

Melody glided right along with him, wide-eyed that she was actually dancing. “I don't believe I did all that,” she said when he resumed the basic pattern.

“Well, you did.” He stopped. “Now that wasn't so bad, was it?”

She felt her skin flushing. She felt like a high-school girl. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this much like a girl of any sort. “It was okay,” she said, trying to hide her giddiness.

“And next week will be even better. Promise me you'll come back?”

Melody looked up into those deep brown eyes and found herself saying the opposite of what she'd planned. “I promise.”

 

Will regulated his breathing as he increased his pace on the treadmill. He felt his body kick into the zone as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Would you be interested in joining the activity-planning committee?” A petite woman wearing a hot-pink sports bra and designer shorts stepped in front of his treadmill.

Will tried to hide his frustration as he slowed his pace. “Excuse me?” he asked, panting.

The woman leaned forward, propping one arm on the electronic panel, inadvertently skewing his workout settings. “I know you're fairly new to Parkview Heights, and the best way to get to know your neighbors is to join the planning committee. I'm the chair, Abby Rutherford.” She held out her hand.

Will was forced to stop the treadmill and step off. After first wiping his palm on his shorts, he reluctantly shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Abby. I'm Will.”

Bending over, hands on his knees, Will stared at the floor, trying to appear as though he were catching his breath. In reality he was reining in his temper.

“We meet the first Thursday of every month to plan the following month's events. Can I sign you up for our next meeting in two weeks?”

Will started to answer but was interrupted when another woman sidled up beside Abby and gave her a one-armed hug. In her other arm, the woman carried a Chihuahua in a purple sweat-band and Spandex tank that matched her own. They exchanged greetings and parted with air kisses.

“Don't forget
The Apprentice
viewing party in the club floor lounge next Monday,” Abby tossed over her shoulder as the woman headed for the juice bar.

“Sorry about that,” Abby said to Will. “As you can see, committee events are a big hit, and you'll get to meet all your neighbors.” Her smile turned from friendly to flirtatious.

“Abby, I'd love to join your committee, but I'm afraid my work schedule is really hectic for the next few weeks.”

Will had only been a resident of the luxury apartment complex for three weeks, so he
was
interested in meeting new people, but not in the middle of a workout.

He'd been varying his exercise routine in the penthouse health club hoping to avoid his chatty neighbors. It was quickly becoming apparent that Parkview residents didn't come to the gym to work out, they came to be seen.

On his first visit, he'd felt strangely under-dressed for the gym. He'd shown up in faded sweats and a paint-splattered T-shirt, while everyone else wore color-coordinated designer labels. He'd barely noticed anyone breaking a sweat. His own workout had progressed slowly because all the machines were tied up with men and women carrying on leisurely conversations while they kept up the vague appearance of exercising.

Cutting his losses, Will rode the elevator back down to his apartment. The thought of buying his own exercise equipment flashed in his mind for the umpteenth time, and for the umpteenth time he dismissed it.

Despite his hard-won status as one of New York's more successful stockbrokers, the lifestyle was still too new for him to abandon his working-class values. He just couldn't waste money on expensive workout machines when his exorbitant rent covered a fully-equipped gym just three floors up. And since he belonged to a rare group of individuals who actually took full advantage of the state-of-the-art machines, the equipment was in excellent condition.

Will dragged his towel across the back of his neck as he entered his apartment. Getting accepted by the Parkview Housing Committee had been an arduous seven-week process involving background checks, prying interviews and several reference letters from well-placed individuals. Now that he was here, the hassle had been worth it. The exclusive residence represented a lifelong climb from Brooklyn factory work to Wall Street success.

Of course
things were different here. Different from working two jobs to get by. Different from backbreaking manual labor, sleep-deprivation and night school. Different had been exactly what Will was looking for.

It was just going to take some getting used to, that's all. But, in the meantime, he needed a dose of reality.

Will sat on the couch with his cordless phone and dialed his younger brother's number. Tony answered right away.

“Will! Hey, man, what's up? How's Park Avenue life treating you? No wait, don't tell me. I'm not in the mood to shoot myself.”

Tony always pretended that he wanted to switch places with Will, but he knew his brother better than that. Tony had always been quite content with the cards life had dealt him. Will had been the dissatisfied one.

By contrast, Tony had always worked at the plastics factory and had never pursued another career path. He'd started a family at eighteen and was happy with the small apartment he lived in with his wife and three sons. Will knew this because once he'd begun making money, he'd offered to move them into a big house, or upgrade their ten-year-old car, and all of these offers had been firmly refused. Christmases and birthdays were the only occasions Will was allowed to spend money on them, and even then, extravagant gifts were returned.

“Everything's fine here.” Will heard cheering in the background. “What's going on over there?”

“Oh, you know how we do. The boys are watching basketball. Frieda's making hot wings.”

“I
love
Frieda's wings,” Will said in an unmistakable plea for an invitation.

“Then come on over, man. You know you're always welcome here.”

Will started to accept his brother's offer, but Tony continued, “It's funny, when you moved to the other side of the tracks, I was worried we wouldn't see you much. But, you've been back in the 'hood almost every day. Basketball at the rec center, pizza night at Shucky's Bar, you even showed up for dominoes at Little Harold's two nights ago.”

Will laughed sheepishly. “What are you trying to say? Are you getting tired of me?”

“Nah, bro, nothing like that. I'm just wondering why you worked so hard to get out of the 'hood, just so you could come back and hang here every other night. What's the matter? Park Avenue ain't all it's cracked up to be?”

“Of course it is,” Will answered quickly. “It's great. Everything's great. Really great.”
Stop saying
great,
you idiot!

“Good. Don't forget I'm an old married man. I have to live through you. You're supposed to be dating some model chick and going to bougie parties where they serve snails and crap like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, all that's on the agenda. I've just been…working a lot. I still teach dance two nights a week.”

“You can't work all the time. What about dating? Meet any hot girls lately?”

“Hot girls?” A tattooed girl with combat boots and a waist-length braid flashed in his brain. “Oh yeah, they're everywhere.”

“Ahhh, yeah! Talk to me.”

“Actually, that's why I was calling. I wanted you and the kids to know you wouldn't be seeing me as much in the next few weeks. Between work, the dance studio and my impending social life, my schedule's starting to look pretty tight.”

“Glad to hear it, man. The boys will miss seeing you around, but we'd all rather you had a life. I was starting to wonder if you were afraid to live in that crystal palace you worked so hard to get into.”

Will felt heat wash down his neck as the truth of Tony's words hit home. “Wow, you suddenly getting deep on me, bro?”

“Hey, I gotta make sure you're all right. Park Avenue's a different world. All your peeps are still in Brooklyn.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.”

“Cool. Then the only other explanation is that you still haven't figured out how to work that talking stove of yours.”