The Billionaire's Ex-Wife (Jameson Brothers 1)

"I'll dance with you," Sam offered.

For a moment, Trinity wasn't sure if she had heard him right. The old Sam—which she was fairly certain was the same Sam she was talking to—would have never agreed to something like this, much less volunteered himself. She blinked a few times just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating the uncharacteristic offer.

Sam started to replace his earbuds. "Sorry. That was forward of me. Just if you find yourself in need of a partner…"

"I do have needs, Sam!" she exclaimed abruptly. Several nearby couples turned their heads, and their sudden rapt attention made Trinity wish she could walk right out into the street and disappear down an open manhole. "I mean...I'd hate to interrupt your run."

There was an obvious smile tugging at the edges of Sam's lips, but he kept a careful mastery of it. Trinity was both relieved and perplexed that he wouldn't just let it go. She had made an obvious Freudian slip: why didn't he just let himself laugh? Was he afraid she would shout him off the sidewalk?

Was his fear justified?

This last thought jolted her. Sam had seized every opportunity to reconnect with her since returning to New York, and she had consistently shut the door on him...except for all those times she hadn't. Forget stolen glances: she had let her ex-husband kiss her, caress her, and she hadn't done a damn thing about it except push each dalliance further, until some interruption inevitably brought her back to her senses.

Oh God. Was Jessica right about me needing to get laid?

"I can finish my run later," Sam said as he stowed his headphones in his pocket. "But is this okay to wear? I'd hate for you to invite me in only to watch me get kicked out immediately."

Trinity blushed. "Yes. That will be fine. All the men wear athletic clothes, only…"

"Only what?"

"Only none make them look as good as you do. Oh hey, they're opening the doors." She snagged hold of Sam's arm and steered him up the steps alongside the other couples.

Sam dipped his head down to whisper in her ear: "Don't think I didn't hear you compliment me."

Trinity gave him a little shove toward the sign-in table. "I hope you have your wallet, because I'm not paying for you."

"I wouldn't dream of asking," Sam deflected as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Trinity saw the flash of credit cards and crisp mint-green bills as he paid, and something more...a flash of gold in the form of a wrinkled square of plastic.

It was a Magnum condom. She read the label before Sam closed his wallet and returned it to his pocket. When he turned back to her and saw her expression, he raised an eyebrow. "Everything all right?" he asked her.

Trinity flushed. "Yes. I just need to stretch. Come on." She took his hand and led him through the nearest doorway. The classroom was already full of couples wandering about; some of the more serious among them were already taking turns in one another's arms to stretch their legs up and scissor them at improbable angles.

"I take back some of the shit I used to talk about ballroom dance. Stretch away," Sam invited as soon as they found a corner to occupy. "I'll do anything I can to help."

Trinity flushed. "I'm nowhere near that flexible," she muttered as she braced herself on his shoulders. She swept her right leg out behind her and leaned a little, until she felt the pleasurable tug of muscles being pulled.

"I beg to differ." Sam's hands hovered near her shoulders in case she pitched sideways. She could feel their heat radiating near her skin. At his words, Trinity quickly stepped back and continued stretching on her own...but there was no avoiding the reality of Sam's arms once the instructor started up the music. He was her partner now, after all. It's not as if they could execute even the most minor ballroom moves without touching.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

Sam glanced around as the other couples flowed into position with each other, summoned by the slow, gentle melody. It was a familiar routine, and the easiest for beginners to master.

"We don't have to worry about the steps if you don't want to," she mentioned. He was clearly analyzing the movements of the couple beside them. She had made the same mistake when she first started out, and her personal quest for perfection had only gotten in the way of her enjoying herself. "Just do it like we did on our wedding day. You can follow my lead if you want."

"Then it wouldn't be like it was on our wedding day," Sam said. He surprised her by reaching for her hand and tugging her to him decisively; she stumbled into his chest, and privately chastised herself for letting her hands linger on his pectorals. Had they always been that tight?

"Are you...seeing anybody while you're in New York?" The question had sounded more discreet when she thought it up originally. Sam gazed down at her curiously as he took her in his arms. He obviously detected an undercurrent to her question. Trinity sighed. "I noticed the condom in your wallet," she admitted as they began to move to the music.

"Oh. That." Sam chuckled. "I've had it since we broke up. Never found an occasion to use it."

Trinity nearly sighed aloud with relief, but managed to master the impulse. Thankfully, Sam appeared to be so focused on where to put his feet that he didn't notice her expression. He half-hopped to avoid a sweep of her toe, and threw himself off-balance as a result. When his heel came down to catch his weight, it was on the lip of her shoe.

"Ow!" Trinity exclaimed. The male half of a couple beside them quickly redirected his partner away from the unfolding catastrophe.

"Sorry," Sam said. "I didn't mean to catch you unawares."

"You just made a mistake, Sam," she muttered. "It happens."