Page 32 of Forget Me

10

MIMI

We’d just reachedthe last item on the gala committee meeting agenda—entertainment—when Larissa frowned at me. “Where’s Mateo?”

“M-Mateo?” I hadn’t seen him since our last meeting. I liked it better that way. Not being around him meant I was in no danger of falling for his fake charm. Plus, I hadn’t had a chance to tell him Larissa and Natalie thought we were dating. I was forty-three percent sure it would all blow over and I’d never need to tell him. Forty-three rounded up to fifty if we were using only one significant digit. And fifty percent certainty was good enough for the weather forecasters.

“He’s supposed to give us a status on the mariachi band,” Larissa said.

Natalie spoke up. “I didn’t think it was a mariachi band.”

“It’s not? Mateo said it was an authentic Latin group. We need a band, Miriam. What’s the status? You are dating him, aren’t you?”

Despite the crushing weight of disappointing her, of potentially losing my chance at that assistant director job, at least now I could end the misunderstanding. “Actually—”

“Evening, ladies.” Mateo sauntered into the conference room. “Sorry I’m late. I just got off work and had to book it here from the west side. What did I miss?”

He winked at Larissa, whose cheeks pinked. Hell, some of the residual sparkle must have hit me because I got a little warm. Or maybe it was the black wool sweater I’d worn. I plucked it away from my chest.

“We were—” Larissa cleared the breathiness out of her voice. “We’re ready to hear your report on the band.”

He leaned a hip against the conference table. “They’re in.”

“Great. And they’re a mariachi band?”

“No. They play bachata. You’ll love it. It’s like they’re making love to your ears. The dancing is sensual, like salsa.” He stood and demonstrated a swaying side-to-side motion, rolling his hips.

Instantly, I felt the phantom touch of his pelvis nudging mine. His powerful hand at the curve of my back. The rough abrasion of his thigh pressing between my legs. The whisper of his breath on my overheated neck. I let my sweater flutter back against my sticky skin.

Larissa leaned back in her chair, blinking. “Okay, then.”

“Yay! Mimi and Mateo can lead the dancing.” Natalie clapped her hands.

“What?” I whipped my head to face her. Mateo had said we should dance, but I’d hoped he was wrong about it.

“Get it started. It’ll be fun when everyone joins in.”

Fun? “But I don’t dance.”

“Of course you will.” Larissa’s voice allowed for no disagreement. “Jackson will be impressed, won’t he, Natalie?”

She grinned. “He does love to dance.”

“Though,if you’re not up to it, you could work behind the scenes. Mateo can take your place on the committee.” Larissa arched her blond eyebrows.

I knew whatbehind the scenesmeant. While it might be what I naturally preferred, it also meant no exposure to Jackson Jones.My last chance at the assistant director job would float away like a puff of Mateo’s cigarette smoke.

“You need her on the committee,” Mateo growled. “Mimi and I are dating. If she’s out, I’m out. And I take the caterer and the band with me.”

What? Why had he said that? My forty-three percent certainty dropped to zero. My stomach squeezed.

Larissa’s eyes went wide. “No need for that. Miriam will dance, won’t you, Miriam?”

“Of—of course.” For the assistant director position, for a chance to work for kids all day every day, I’d struggle into a spangled leotard and high-kick like the Rockettes.

Mateo’s voice remained low. “I don’t like it when Mimi is threatened. Remember, we’re a package deal.”

A heavy silence blanketed the conference room until Natalie said, “Hear that? It was my ovaries exploding. Mimi, if you and Mateo ever break up, I’m burning my copy of the girl code. He’s mine.”

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