Page 145 of Lovers' Dance

“You mountain climb?” I asked. The skiing I could see. That’s what people like Matt did. But mountain climbing? That was dangerous stuff. Broken bones galore, or worse. An icy death on some remote mountainside. Umm, come to think of it, the same risks were associated with skiing. My heart fell to the floor as images of a broken, bloodied Matt jumped in front my eyes.

Before Matt could reply, I rounded on Nathan. “Are you crazy? You can’t volunteer someone for something like that. If you want to play with your own life, that’s fine. But leave my Matt out of it. He’s not a young thrill seeker, he’s a respectable businessman with responsibilities. And he’s not going. Whatever pre-midlife crisis you’re going through, you can do it by yourself, Nathan. Don’t you know Matt’s been having back problems? Climbing in Switzerland? Huh, not on my watch.” I snorted.

Matt cleared his throat loudly, arms folded and face set in haughty disdain as I twisted my head in his direction.

“I’m undecided whether to feel flattered at your concern, poppet, or thoroughly insulted over your lack of faith in my abilities.” One eyebrow went up. “Back problems? What back problems?”

“Sorry, mate, didn’t know you were that old and decrepit,” Nathan teased as I scrambled to say something to smooth over my outburst. Bella sipped her champagne quietly, hiding her amused smile behind her flute with eyes wide as she observed us.

“It sounded different in my head.” I appeased Matt, who was eyeing me.

“I’m leaning towards insulted,” Matt said, with a wry quirk of lips. I grinned and reached up to smooth my fingertips over his arched left eyebrow. It resumed its natural position. Why the heck hadn’t I thought of doing that sooner?

Matt watched her out of the corner of his eyes while carrying on a conversation with Franklin about his yearly trip to his place in Switzerland. She was laughing at something Dougal McGregor had said, her face lighting up with amusement, doe eyes glistening as she shook her head at the man she’d outbid earlier. Matt chewed his inner cheeks wondering what the Scotsman had said to his poppet to make her react in such a manner. He felt as if all eyes were on her, especially in that sexy dress she was wearing. Her usually wild curls were tamed into order tonight and bobbing over her shoulders and around her beautiful face as she let out another bout of laughter. He couldn’t hear her from this distance, but he knew how her musical laugh sounded. He wanted to know what McGregor was saying to her. Matt was fully aware of his jealous tendencies where it concerned Madi—he couldn’t help it. Never had he felt as possessive of a woman as he did with her. McGregor’s age didn’t help ease Matt’s current state of mind. They were almost the same age if Matt recalled correctly. McGregor was around twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight. He silently cursed his feelings of insecurity. It was bad enough having to accept her close relationship with that Dante fellow, the last thing he needed was seeing a rival where there was none. It wasn’t like she’d see McGregor again, at least not frequently. He wasn’t in Matt’s inner circle of friends.

“The usual people will be there,” Franklin continued, trying his best to persuade Matt to join them. “Last year was an absolute riot, shame you missed it. Don’t let that happen this year.”

“We’ll see, Franklin. You know how hard it is to get away.”

Franklin gave him a sceptical look and glanced across where Madi stood with McGregor. “I know you’ve recently been to Venice and, a few months before that, you were in France. Come on, Matt.”

Matt chuckled in defeat, nodding in agreement. He did enjoy his skiing and climbing. It had been almost a year since he’d last gotten any form of climbing in. Casting another glance in Madi’s direction, he took a drink of the sparkling water in his glass. Back problems. Cheeky little thing. Her uncomfortable bed was the problem, and her unspoken inference that he was too old to partake in such sports had left him extremely put out. His gaze narrowed in irritation as he watched McGregor pull a card out of his inner jacket pocket and hand it over to Madi. Matt noted how she toyed with it for a moment before reluctantly putting it into her purse. He would definitely remove it later.

“I’m sure your current lady won’t mind you leaving her alone for a week. I doubt she’s ever been on the piste, far less hauling herself up the side of a mountain,” Franklin said blandly.

Matt shot him a sharp look. Was that some form of racial stereotyping? He felt his face fall into a neutral mask as he coolly observed the man he’d known for almost fifteen years. “What do you mean by that, Franklin?”

Franklin returned Matt’s empty look with a confused one, suddenly aware of the deceptive calmness of Matt’s demeanour. “She’s a dancer, isn’t she? I read in some magazine that she’s a ballerina. I naturally assumed she wouldn’t be into extreme sports.”

Matt’s features relaxed as he nodded. “You’re right. High risk sports are a no-no in her books.”

Bloody hell. His earlier conversation with Madi had him on edge. Franklin wasn’t a racist, at least not as far as Matt knew, and he’d known him for a long time. Why was he searching for any hidden nuances in his friend’s words? This was exactly why he avoided thinking about this particular subject. It made him uncomfortable and he didn’t want it to affect his perceived views. But how could it not?

Matt chewed his inner cheeks pensively. He would need to do research. How outrageous was that? Him? He knew everything there was to know about relationships. Yet, his poppet was a complete enigma. Matt amended his previous thought. It was arrogant and wrong. He didn’t know the first thing about being in love with a black woman. That was where his frustration stemmed from. In his eyes Madi was just a woman. He didn’t look at her and think, ‘My girlfriend is black.’ No, all he saw when he looked at her was the most exquisite creation known to man. But he knew she had a major issue with his race. He knew this and wanted to avoid it like the plague. He’d hoped by ignoring it, it would go away. Obviously, it wasn’t going away.

Damn it. They would need to have a serious talk.

“She could come along, you know,” Franklin murmured. “If she wanted to. One more person means more fun.”

Matt rubbed his chin, not sure he wanted to subject Madi to one of Franklin’s Swiss mini-breaks.

“We’ll see,” he replied with a distracted smile. McGregor was introducing Madi to new people who had wandered over to their side, and Matt skilfully masked his disbelief behind a casual façade. The Scotsman was introducing Madi as if she was his date, his hand holding her elbow as he turned her around to face someone else. Bollocks to that.

“Franklin.” Matt held a hand out to his friend. “I’ll call you sometime next week to confirm the dates.”

They shook hands and Matt left his friend behind as he made his way in determined strides to his woman. Politely, he brushed off the people who tried to stop him and draw him into their little groups. He was ready to leave.

“Madison,” he said firmly, slipping a possessive hand over her waist as he shot the people around her a pleasant smile. His eyes were cold though as they landed on McGregor. “It’s time for us to leave.”

She flashed him a sweet smile and nodded.

“You cannae leave yet,” McGregor said in mock shock. “This wee lass has agreed to show me her dancing skills as recompense for outbidding me.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Madi retorted, shaking her head in amusement at McGregor.

The Scotsman chuckled and held a hand out to Matt, who shook it with the barest hint of reluctance. “Matt, good to see you. How’s business?”

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