“Dance with me.”
“I’m good,” she declined politely.
“I didn’t mean to sound as if it was a request,” he said, trying to smile, “I need to speak with you.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t dance.” Of course she danced. Women with her beauty danced. They were the center of attention on the dance floor, seducing men with their moves. Lexi leaned in close; the sweet smell of gardenias teased his nostrils. “As in, I can’t dance. I’m horrible.”
“I don’t plan on judging your skills.”
He enjoyed the way her eyebrows rose in shock. What he liked even better was that she pushed her chair away from the table and took his hand. A spark shocked his fingers when their hands touched. Flicking them apart after the jolt, Stephen glanced around the table to make sure no one noticed. Everyone stared.
“Are we allowed to dance, too?” he heard Kimber ask. Fortunately Nate vetoed the idea.
Stephen pulled Lexi away from the table and hard against his body. Her soft skin reminded him of rose petals, her irritated glare of the thorns. Their shoes clicked against the wooden dance floor. Her body trembled from the stems of her stilettos. “Your legs are shaking.”
“I don’t like to dance.”
“Yet here we are.” The warmth of her body against his made him clear his throat.
“Everyone is staring,” Lexi responded in a clipped tone. She stretched her left arm across his shoulder. He squeezed her hand and placed his right hand against the small of her back. If his pinkie finger slipped an inch downward, he would feel her tailbone.
“Let me guess, you’re not one to make a scene?”
“I’m a Southern lady. We don’t cause scenes.”
Oh, if only all women were that simple. The women he’d dated lived for scenes. There’d been several occasions where he’d had a drink thrown in his face for showin
g up to an event late due to work or simply forgetting. Women didn’t like the honest truth. Women liked to play games. Lexi was playing one now. She knew he hadn’t wanted her to come along. She knew that he was going to need reservations for dinner tonight, yet she let him stand there and make an ass out of himself at the fair.
“No scenes, huh.” He mused over her statement. “Is that right?”
She tightened the slack in her arms. “Why did you want to dance with me, Mr. Reyes?”
For a moment he’d forgotten, lost in her dark eyes and the color of her hair. “How do you get your hair so blond?”
“I am sure you did not ask me to dance to find out about my hair-care products.”
He’d dated bottled blondes. There were ways of finding out the truth. A lower part of his body wanted to find out, but his brain tried to focus. “You’re right. I thought this would give us a chance to get to know each other better.”
“Oh, yes, we’re going to be best friends.” Lexi rolled her eyes. “By the way, I know all about your type, too, Mr. Reyes. You like to throw your wealth around to intimidate people.” She shook her head.
A lock of her hair fell down her back, brushing against his arm. “You still want to bring up the dress?” he said, casting a glance back at Kimber. “Let’s talk about the dress.”
Lexi’s eyes flashed wide before falling across the table.
“Yeah, I thought not. I am willing to barter with you.”
That got her attention. She looked at him sharply. “Barter how?”
“Do you believe Philly has what it takes?”
She peered around his shoulder to look at the five-year-old. A sweet smile spread across her face. “I haven’t seen a natural like her in ten years.”
A certain sadness twinkled in her eyes, then disappeared. Stephen was here to make a deal with Lexi, not psychoanalyze her. If she was the best, she was what Philly deserved. “So you would be willing to let go of your grudge against me to help Philly?”
“My grudge?” She stared incredulously, and if she became any stiffer she would break in half. Lexi held her face back in shock as if she’d been slapped. “Do you think I would hurt that little girl’s chances to spite you? Quite the ego you have there, Mr. Reyes.”
“Wouldn’t you?”