Enchanting Melody Page 2

  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.
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  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.”

  Will laughed hard into the phone, then paused. “How did you know?”

  “All right, man, jump in the car and get over here before Frieda’s wings get cold.”

  Melody waited in the corner of the dance studio as other couples began to arrive. As the trendy men and women around her chatted amongst themselves or practiced last week’s lesson, Mel chided herself for coming back to class.

  She didn’t fit in here. Normally, that was a good thing. But today Mel felt dopey for showing up to class fifteen minutes early. It was silly to have sweaty palms and a stomach doing somersaults. And she felt extra foolish for wearing her black pleated mini skirt to impress the teacher.

  She glanced down at the chunky sports watch on her wrist as she eyed the door. Three minutes to go. Maybe she could still—

  “Good evening, class.” Will Coleman walked into the room, eliminating all hope of a quick escape. “I’m glad to see some of you practicing.”

  Melody swallowed hard, hating the sudden giddiness she felt at the sight of him. He wore tan slacks with a fitted knit shirt that showed off his muscular build. His leather belt matched his brown loafers perfectly. He looked neat. Conservative. Delicious.

  She blinked. What was getting into her? Since when was conservative delicious?

  Feeling a tiny bit self-conscious, Mel glanced at her mirrored image on the opposite wall. He’d told them to wear leather-soled shoes. The only pair she owned were her black studded cowboy boots. With those she wore opaque gray tights and her mini skirt with black-and-white suspenders hanging free at her waist. On top she wore a black baby-T sporting the word Brat in angry white letters. To complete the look, she’d positioned two ponytails at the back of her head and then bound them together with randomly-spaced rubber bands in a variety of colors.

  This was as dressed-up as she got. So he’d damn well better appreciate it.

  Will caught her eye and gave her a warm smile. Her knees went weak. And weakness made Melody bitter. She lifted her chin, finding composure in defiance.

  “Okay, class, let’s line up. Followers on the right. Leaders on the left.”

  Melody got in line. The numbers were still uneven. Will would have to be her partner again. Her heart began to race.

  “Now that you all know the basic steps, I want you to get a feel for dancing with different partners. Start with the person directly across from you, and after a few minutes, we’ll rotate.”

  Melody’s heart sank. She was anxious to show Will how much she’d improved. At least she’d get to dance with the teacher first, she thought as he approached her.

  “Melody, do you mind practicing on your own for this round? I need to be mobile to monitor everyone’s progress,” he said quietly to her, and then more loudly, “Class, each follower will have to dance one round on their own. But don’t worry, we’ll keep rotating so everyone will have a partner most of the time.”

  It was all Mel could do not to groan out loud. Why on earth had she come back? Trying not to embarrass herself, Melody dutifully ran through the steps on her own and was feeling pretty confident when it was time to rotate.

  An older man with silver hair and a friendly smile walked up to her. He extended his hand. “Hi, my name is George.”

  “I’m Mel, um, Melody.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Melody.” George took her into his arms. The music started and he glided with her around the floor with expertise.

  “Are you sure you need lessons?” she asked her partner.

  “This is more of a refresher course for me. My wife Gretchen is the one who really wants to learn.”

  Melody was disappointed when it was time to rotate. It had been nice to dance with someone who knew what he was doing but didn’t stir up those pesky butterflies.

  Her next partner, Scott, was a bit more of a challenge. Clearly nervous, he stayed two beats ahead of the music. Feeling good about her progress, Mel took the lead and Scott let her.

  “You’re a great dancer,” the redhead said and his face flushed as he struggled not to meet her eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  Scott moved on quickly, catching sight of the reproachful looks his girlfriend was shooting from across the room.

  Her next partner appeared before her, the stocky Italian she remembered from the previous week. “Hi, I’m Melody.”

  “Joey,” he said curtly and
jerked her into position.

  His grip was tight and Melody constantly felt off balance. She tried pushing against him to get control of her footing.

  Joey clamped her into a firmer grip and physically moved her across the floor.

  “Dude, loosen up.” She pushed against him harder.

  “Hey, stop trying to lead.”

  “Fine, but you need to stop trying to bulldoze me.”

  The two of them moved awkwardly across the floor, occasionally creating so much resistance in their frame that they looked like wrestlers battling for a title belt.

  When Joey missed a beat, Mel would try to force him to catch up. “Quit leading,” Joey muttered.

  “You’re off beat.”

  “You’re supposed to follow me, no matter what.” He applied more force to their frame.

  Feeling red-hot anger creeping up her spine, Melody applied some force of her own. “It would help if you were doing it right.”

  They were so caught up in their power struggle that neither of them noticed that the music had stopped and the entire class was watching them.

  Will walked over. “What’s the problem?”

  “She won’t quit leading,” Joey piped up like the whiney tattletale he was.

  Mel took a deep breath, trying not to show Will just how evil her temper could get. “I wasn’t trying to lead,” she bit out. “I was just trying to keep him from sweeping the floor with my heels.”

  “She’s some kind of control freak.”

  Melody whirled on Joey, but before she could even think of wrapping her fingers around the man’s neck, Will had pulled her into his arms. Lifting her arm over her head, he spun her back around in a graceful twirl.

  “Okay, class, that’s enough rotating for today. Go back to your original partners. We’re going to learn some turns.”

  Chapter 3

  For the remainder of class, Will kept Melody at his side as he showed them how to add spins to the basic patterns they’d learned. Once again, as he was dismissing the students and giving them instructions on what to practice for next week, Melody tried to slip out.