Enchanting Melody. Robyn Amos

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      “You’re trying to sneak off again?” Will called out before she reached the door.

      She turned to face him, looking sheepish.

      “I’m going to start taking it personally.”

      She walked back over to him. “I just don’t think I have the right temperament for ballroom dancing. I’m not a let-a-guy-control-me type of girl.”

      Will let his gaze travel over Melody. She’d struck a brazen pose, hip jutted out and arms crossed. Her catlike eyes, ringed with dark liner, dared him to contradict her. No, she wasn’t the passive type.

      Speaking of types. She wasn’t his at all. Her fashion sense was a mix of goth and grunge instead of Gaultier and Gucci. Melody Rush was dark, defiant and every bit the brat her shirt proclaimed.

      He took in the shapely legs stemming from her low black cowboy boots and the rippled abs peeking out of her baby-T. On the other hand, she was sexy and he was a man. It just didn’t go much deeper than that.

      “Melody, you’ve got it all wrong. Just because the man leads doesn’t mean the woman is passive. It’s our job to make you look good. Like the pedestal under a Ming vase—the man bears the weight so the woman can be admired.”

      “Yeah, that’s cute, but you can’t tell me after today that I’m cut out for this. Dancing with some of the guys was okay, but that last one—” Melody formed her hands into a choking gesture.

      Will stifled a smirk. “It takes a while to adjust to new partners. The more confident you become in your own dancing ability, the easier it will be for you to adapt to a new partner’s style.”

      “You make it sound so easy, but I’m not buying it. I’ve barely gotten used to this pattern, and now you’re talking about teaching swing next week? That’s the one where they throw you around like a rag doll, right?”

      “That’s one way to look at it,” Will said, amused. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll give you a sneak peek at next week’s lesson. That way you can practice a few steps on your own.”

      Suddenly Melody looked nervous. “No, I don’t want to waste your time. The studio’s closing. You probably want to get home.”

      He took a step toward her, holding out his hand. “It’s no problem.”

      She took a step back, and he paused. “Unless you’d rather not.” He liked the fact that he could rattle her. He could tell that was something that didn’t happen often.

      She visibly swallowed and took his hand. “Hey, if you’re up for it, I am, too. I guess I need all the help I can get.”

      Taking the stereo remote from his pocket, he hit the CD changer and a bouncy swing filled the room. “Okay, the basic swing pattern is relatively simple—one, two, rock step.”

      He had to show her several times before the rock step began to sink in. “Loosen up. You’ve got to let yourself feel the connection. Try not to think so hard.”

      Melody stumbled. “I don’t know about this. Swing seems so corny.”

      “Corny? The swing? No way. It’s the most versatile dance of them all. I bet you didn’t know that you can swing to hip-hop music.” He pulled the remote from his pocket and the CD switched to a pounding beat. Will continued to lead her through the basic pattern.

      Melody wrinkled her nose. “Hip-hop isn’t exactly my thing.”

      He twirled her around then spun her around his back. “Oh that’s right, goth girls are more into metal, right?”

      “I’m not much for labels, but yeah, I like rock, punk, alternative…”

      “Hmm, I’ve never tried to swing to punk music before. Maybe if you bring some in, we could try it out.”

      She regarded him with a wary eye. “Maybe.”

      “There you go.” He led her around the room. “You’re getting the hang of it now.”

      He watched Melody trying to fight back her grin. “It’s all right, I guess,” she said.

      Feeling her confidence growing, Will led her into more complicated steps. Melody followed along like a pro.

      “I have to know, what made you want to take ballroom-dancing lessons?” he asked, pulling her close.

      Melody scoffed. “Do I look like someone who would want ballroom-dancing lessons? No, I’m the maid of honor in my sister’s circus—I mean wedding. I think she only gave me the title in order to inflict girly tortures upon me—ballroom dancing, pointy-toed shoes, hot rollers…”

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