I clear my throat and avert my eyes, hoping my thoughts aren’t showing on my face. “Just throwing out an example. My point is, you may need to adjust your expectations.”
“Why?” His gaze sharpens, making me feel like he’s looking right through me, seeing all my silly, embarrassing secrets. “Why aren’t you comfortable in your own body?”
My shoulders bounce up and down beneath my suit coat as a wave of shyness prickles beneath my skin. “I don’t know. I’m just…”
“Just what?” Jack eases closer, making my already elevated pulse gallop faster.
“I was never great at sports, I haven’t been out dancing since college, and I spend most of my time alone in my apartment not touching other people,” I say, my cheeks heating as I make my pathetic confession. “I’m not exactly leading a carnal existence. Unless you count my intimate time with a block of sharp cheddar before bed.”
Jack doesn’t say anything for so long that my flush becomes a full-fledged cheek-meltdown.
“Pretend I never said that,” I finally say in a rush. “Keep walking. I’ll keep following. I’ll get it eventually.”
“No more walking.” Jack scrubs a hand across his jaw. “You still have your dad’s old record player?”
I force my gaze to his, relieved to see he isn’t looking at me like I’m the saddest cheese-binging loner in Loner Town. “On the bottom shelf, under the TV. Why?”
Jack doesn’t answer. He circles my couch, crouches in front of the entertainment center, and makes a selection from my collection of vintage vinyl. A moment later,Bring It On Home to Meby Sam Cooke fills the room.
“May I have this dance, Miss Seyfried?” Jack stands, holding a hand out my way.
I shake my head with a flustered laugh. “You don’t have to do that. Seriously, Jack, I—”
“Get over here, Eleanor.” He crooks a finger. “We’re going to get you comfortable in your own skin.”
Right. Because slow-dancing with a man who makes my heart beat out of my chest is such acomfortableexperience.
But I’ve made enough embarrassing confessions for one day. So I grit my teeth and cross the room, moving stiffly into position in front of Jack.
“Let’s get rid of this.” He reaches for my lapels, guiding my blazer off my shoulders, making the heart-pounding even worse as he tosses the coat onto the couch and wraps an arm around my waist. “I’ve never danced with someone in a suit.”
“Which is why this is silly. I need to learn to walk like a man, not dance like a woman.”
“You already know how to dance like a woman.” Jack’s arm tightens around me, making my breath catch as he takes control of the dance. “So dance with me. Focus on getting into your body and quit giving me lip.”
“You’re very bossy,” I murmur as I glide one palm up to his shoulder.
“And you’re very beautiful,” he says, making my mouth go dry. “Which is part of the problem, Ellie. Even with the mustache and man-makeup, I can’t believe other people don’t see it.”
“They don’t,” I say as Sam Cooke croons on. “Trust me, Jack. No one suspects a thing. I can do this.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to.” He draws me even closer, until my bound chest is inches from his and my fluttering stomach brushes against his belt buckle. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to Jack, and damn if I don’t want to get even closer. “You’re one of the most self-disciplined people I know.”
“Thank you.” I tilt my head back, holding his gaze, even though I shouldn’t. If my eyes aren’t giving me away already, they will sooner or later.
I’ve never been good at hiding the way I feel, and right now I’m feeling so many risky things. Attraction and longing and even more dangerous things like…gratitude. It’s been so long since someone told me I was beautiful, and even longer since I knew they weren’t just talking about the way I look.
“You’re welcome.” Jack’s voice is low as he spins us both in a slow circle, his hips swaying so close to mine that for a moment I forget how to breathe. “But I’m not sure…”
“Not sure about what?” My head is spinning now, too. If I don’t exhale soon, I’m going to pass out, but then Jack will probably catch me, and I can think of worse things than being scooped up in his arms.
Lots of worse things.
“I’m not sure I deserve your thanks.” He stops swaying, but I barely notice. The flash of his sparkly green eyes has me totally off kilter.
And then he leans down, his lips moving closer to mine, and I realize several things all at once.
One: Jack is going to kiss me. This is not a drill. Repeat, this isnota drill.