Shadow Rider
Page 89
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Rigina threw her head back and laughed. “They think the only form of fun is a hot, willing babe.”
Francesca couldn’t stop her reaction to Rigina’s casual—but obviously true—remark. She stiffened, her fingers curling around the glass she held.
“Francesca.” Rosina’s voice was gentle, with an undercurrent of anxiety. “My sister didn’t mean anything by that. I hope you weren’t offended.”
Francesca threw her a casual smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes. She took a longer drink. The combination of the ingredients always warmed her stomach and made her blood sing. She let the feeling sweep through her, wanting to get away from Stefano’s cousins and the implication in Rigina’s statement. They could try to take away the sting all they wanted, but she’d read the tabloids. She’d seen all the pictures of his women. So many of them. Tall. Beautiful. The thought of Stefano with them made her feel sick. Now she’d met them, and that made her even sicker, thinking of the things the three women were implying.
She wasn’t experienced or sophisticated. She didn’t belong in his crowd. Or with his family. She turned to Joanna with a bright, false smile. “You ready to dance? The music’s calling.”
Joanna had barely touched her drink and looked up, clearly to protest, but she took one look at Francesca’s face and immediately stood up. “Can’t wait.” She flashed her brilliant smile at Mario. “You coming or you want to drink a little first?”
“I came to dance, woman. I’m with you all the way,” Mario said, endearing him to Francesca. He was so the right man for Joanna.
“Francesca . . .” Rigina protested.
Francesca drank the rest of the Moscow Mule, and this time her smile bordered on desperate, but she couldn’t help it. “No worries, I’m great. I love to dance and the music is calling. If the waitress comes back will you order me another drink please?” Still smiling brightly she led the way down the steps to the crowded dance floor.
She didn’t want to think about anything at all. She found the rhythm of the music and let it transport her like it always had, to another place. The alcohol pounded through her veins, heating her from the inside out. There was only her body and the music. Nothing else. No one else. No Stefano with his gorgeous body and smoldering sensuality that made her so incredibly hungry for him she couldn’t think straight when she was around him.
Two songs later, she became of aware of a man joining them. He seemed to know both Joanna and Mario, slapping him on the back and greeting Joanna with a kiss. He looked toward Francesca expectantly.
“My friend Dominic,” Mario said loudly, trying to be heard above the music. “Dominic, our friend Francesca.”
Dominic grinned at her, his body moving in close, matching the rhythm of hers with ease. She recognized a trained dancer when she saw one, probably in Latin and ballroom as she’d been. He leaned toward her, one hand sliding onto her hip. Just barely there, but connecting them. “You know how to dance.”
She was pleased that someone actually recognized that she could. She nodded, barely able to hear him over the pounding music. He immediately reached for her hand and took her through a series of salsa steps. The music was fast but the beat was perfect for a salsa. She matched him no problem and he instantly took her close to his body, moving her into more intricate and very sexy steps. She lost herself like she always did, the music flowing through her, her body giving itself up to the beat.
Dominic’s lead was confident and strong, just the kind she preferred in a partner, and she moved with him, even when the music slowed and he drew her close into a tight frame. He was a couple of inches taller than she was and he bent his head close to speak directly in her ear.
“You’re very good. I haven’t had a dance partner like you ever. Where in the world did Mario and Joanna find you?”
She tried not to stiffen. She didn’t like personal questions. “Joanna and I went to school together.”
His hand slid down her waist to the curve of her hip. She felt that slide and it sent alarm bells ringing as he tightened his hold on her.
“My lucky night,” he observed, his hand sliding lower until it rested right on the cheek of her butt.
She dropped her own hand and moved his. “You don’t know me that well.”
He laughed softly. “Not yet, but I intend to.”
Emilio loomed over his shoulder, looking grim. Huge. Unhappy. He tapped Dominic on the shoulder and jerked his thumb off to the side. Dominic instantly looked angry, but he stepped away from Emilio.
Francesca couldn’t stop her reaction to Rigina’s casual—but obviously true—remark. She stiffened, her fingers curling around the glass she held.
“Francesca.” Rosina’s voice was gentle, with an undercurrent of anxiety. “My sister didn’t mean anything by that. I hope you weren’t offended.”
Francesca threw her a casual smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes. She took a longer drink. The combination of the ingredients always warmed her stomach and made her blood sing. She let the feeling sweep through her, wanting to get away from Stefano’s cousins and the implication in Rigina’s statement. They could try to take away the sting all they wanted, but she’d read the tabloids. She’d seen all the pictures of his women. So many of them. Tall. Beautiful. The thought of Stefano with them made her feel sick. Now she’d met them, and that made her even sicker, thinking of the things the three women were implying.
She wasn’t experienced or sophisticated. She didn’t belong in his crowd. Or with his family. She turned to Joanna with a bright, false smile. “You ready to dance? The music’s calling.”
Joanna had barely touched her drink and looked up, clearly to protest, but she took one look at Francesca’s face and immediately stood up. “Can’t wait.” She flashed her brilliant smile at Mario. “You coming or you want to drink a little first?”
“I came to dance, woman. I’m with you all the way,” Mario said, endearing him to Francesca. He was so the right man for Joanna.
“Francesca . . .” Rigina protested.
Francesca drank the rest of the Moscow Mule, and this time her smile bordered on desperate, but she couldn’t help it. “No worries, I’m great. I love to dance and the music is calling. If the waitress comes back will you order me another drink please?” Still smiling brightly she led the way down the steps to the crowded dance floor.
She didn’t want to think about anything at all. She found the rhythm of the music and let it transport her like it always had, to another place. The alcohol pounded through her veins, heating her from the inside out. There was only her body and the music. Nothing else. No one else. No Stefano with his gorgeous body and smoldering sensuality that made her so incredibly hungry for him she couldn’t think straight when she was around him.
Two songs later, she became of aware of a man joining them. He seemed to know both Joanna and Mario, slapping him on the back and greeting Joanna with a kiss. He looked toward Francesca expectantly.
“My friend Dominic,” Mario said loudly, trying to be heard above the music. “Dominic, our friend Francesca.”
Dominic grinned at her, his body moving in close, matching the rhythm of hers with ease. She recognized a trained dancer when she saw one, probably in Latin and ballroom as she’d been. He leaned toward her, one hand sliding onto her hip. Just barely there, but connecting them. “You know how to dance.”
She was pleased that someone actually recognized that she could. She nodded, barely able to hear him over the pounding music. He immediately reached for her hand and took her through a series of salsa steps. The music was fast but the beat was perfect for a salsa. She matched him no problem and he instantly took her close to his body, moving her into more intricate and very sexy steps. She lost herself like she always did, the music flowing through her, her body giving itself up to the beat.
Dominic’s lead was confident and strong, just the kind she preferred in a partner, and she moved with him, even when the music slowed and he drew her close into a tight frame. He was a couple of inches taller than she was and he bent his head close to speak directly in her ear.
“You’re very good. I haven’t had a dance partner like you ever. Where in the world did Mario and Joanna find you?”
She tried not to stiffen. She didn’t like personal questions. “Joanna and I went to school together.”
His hand slid down her waist to the curve of her hip. She felt that slide and it sent alarm bells ringing as he tightened his hold on her.
“My lucky night,” he observed, his hand sliding lower until it rested right on the cheek of her butt.
She dropped her own hand and moved his. “You don’t know me that well.”
He laughed softly. “Not yet, but I intend to.”
Emilio loomed over his shoulder, looking grim. Huge. Unhappy. He tapped Dominic on the shoulder and jerked his thumb off to the side. Dominic instantly looked angry, but he stepped away from Emilio.
