“And another drink?” She lifted her glass and shook it at him.
He laughed quietly. He adored her playful side, especially since she didn’t show it often.
Melanie slid out from the booth and wound her way to the jukebox. Adam got change and another round of drinks, listening dutifully as Jones informed him that he was a “certifiable idiot” if he did anything less than treat Melanie like a princess and figure out a way to make her his wife. For the moment, he was going for a successful first date.
Adam watched the sway of Melanie’s hips as she stood before the jukebox, pushing the button and making the records go by. He would’ve done anything for the chance to walk up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her neck. But even in the place where they could shut out the world, he wasn’t sure she’d be amenable.
“About time,” she said when he reached her. She plucked the quarters from his hand and plugged the machine, then tapped away at the numbers.
“Don’t I get to pick any?” He moved in next to her until they were standing virtually hip to hip. He had several inches of height advantage, even when she was wearing heels. Heels that he couldn’t help but notice made her legs look incredible.
She grumbled. “I don’t even know if you have good taste in music.” She turned to block his access to the number pad controlling the jukebox.
You clever minx. “You’ve got to be kidding. I have excellent taste in music, and don’t forget that I financed this endeavor. I at least deserve a turn.”
She punched in another number. “Okay. You can pick one song. But it’d better be good.” With a flourish, she stepped back, placing the tips of her graceful fingers on her collarbone.
Give me strength. Adam’s head was doing somersaults. When Melanie let down her guard, when she was being sassy and independent and sexy, exactly the way she’d been the night he first met her, he had no logical thought other than getting her into his bed, ASAP. He chose a song with little deliberation, so little that he didn’t remember what he’d picked.
“What’s your song? I didn’t see.”
“Um. It’s a surprise.”
Melanie swirled her drink with the straw. “I could drink about seven of these, but then you’d have to put me in a cab because I would either be asleep or very, very stupid.”
“I don’t want you to drink that much, but I’m willing to go along with whatever you want tonight.”
Melanie cast him a smirk. “You ready to put your money where your mouth is? Because I want to dance.”
Adam knew exactly where he wanted to put his mouth, squarely on hers. “This isn’t really the place for dancing.” Flaherty’s customers were accustomed to their feet sticking to the floor. It wasn’t exactly the place to bust out a box step.
“Maybe we need to change that.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her hip.
She was lucky his fingers didn’t have a mind of their own because her dress had a tie at the hip, and that was precisely where she’d placed his hand. That stretch of cobalt blue knit would be gone in two seconds flat if his hands were in charge.
He took her other hand, wrapped his fingers around hers, bringing her right next to him with a decisive tug. “What if I told you I don’t dance?” He led her in a small circle on their impromptu dance floor, sliding his hand to the small of her back. His hand fit perfectly.
“I’d say you’re a liar,” she muttered, following him in their back-and-forth sway. It was only the slightest of surrenders, but he’d take what he could get. Every last drop.
“The truth is that I really don’t like to dance, but I like this. A lot. At least I can have you in my arms.”
“Is three minutes long enough? That’s how long a song is, right?”
“We put in two dollars. I bought myself a good twenty-four minutes if my math is correct.”
“If you play your cards right, I’ll stick around that long.”
Adam laughed quietly. “You and I are exceptionally good at talking in circles around each other. Neither one of us wants to give in and say what we’re really thinking.”
Melanie looked up into his eyes, unafraid. “So just tell me, Adam. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Maybe her bravery was born of the mojitos, but he’d have to match it with his own bravado.
He sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself, hoping this wasn’t going to make her put up an even bigger wall between them. The last time he’d been honest about his feelings, she’d done exactly that. “I’m thinking that you’re beautiful and smart and sexy and fun to be with. I’m thinking that any man who would walk out on you is a moron. I’m thinking that I might not be much better for spending time with Julia when I could be trying to build something with you.”