Page 22 of Lovers' Dance

“You saw that?”

“Mmm,” he replied, eyes catching mine in the rear view mirror. “Put your seatbelt on, Madi.”

I buckled up, then let out a shaky breath of relief as I undid the tight bun holding my hair up. “I can’t believe it. This is the second time you’ve rescued me, Matt. I must be the luckiest girl in the world, or you must be my guardian angel.”

His friend chuckled dryly and I could see Matt scowling at him as I combed my fingers through my hair.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Matt got back on point.

I grinned at him in the rear view mirror. “I told you I was a ballet dancer.”

He nodded.

“I own a dance studio in Greenwich,” I explained. “We have this thing we do where we go around London putting on impromptu shows for the public.”

“That sounds interesting,” Matt said, with sincerity shining from his beautiful eyes. I blushed with pleasure, thankful my dark skin hid the rush of blood to my cheeks.

“What are you doing here? Driving along the Mall?” I asked, unable to believe he’d shown up at the exact moment I needed him—like that night we first met.

“Yes, Matthew,” his friend, Nathan, said lightly. “Tell her how you happened to be driving along—”

“I sometimes drive this way after work.” Matt cut him off. He sent another scowl in his friend’s direction. It puzzled me.

Matt totally threw me into a spin when he asked, “What on earth did you do to your lovely curls? Your hair looks straight.”

“Brazilian blow-dry,” I answered, knowing he would probably have no idea what I was talking about. The blank expression on his face confirmed it.

“Is it permanent?” he asked bluntly.

“Dude,” I said jokingly, “don’t you know you should never question a black woman about her hair.”

Matt exchanged a look with his friend, who cleared his throat nervously. I almost giggled. White people were funny when they found themselves in situations like these. They didn’t know how to react.

“Well,” he persisted, a defiant well-defined eyebrow arching at me in the rear view mirror. “Is it?”

I would have answered, but my cell rang. I fumbled around in my bag and pulled it out. It was Dante. “Hey, hon, did they catch you?”

Matt looked a bit put out and I realized how rude my behaviour was. Ah, well.

“No, they didn’t catch me, but we split up so I don’t know about the others. They should be heading to the meet point.”

Matt and his friend were chatting in low voices. I focused on my conversation with Dante. “Yes, yes, I’ll head back to the studio. Do you want me to bring food? I’m starving and my ankle is twinging. I think I came down too hard from the last lift.”

Dante said not to bother with food as they would get something on the way back to the studio. Lisa and Brianna weren’t at the meet point yet. Everyone else was there, but us three. Dante asked where I was.

“Umm,” I whispered, not wanting Matt to hear the lie. “I’m in a taxi.” The front of the car went quiet. I looked up to see Matt staring at me in the rear view mirror.

“I’ll see you in a bit, Dante. Gotta go, bye.” I hung up and flashed a bright smile at my second-time rescuer. “Matt, you can drop me off anywhere here. I know you’re probably busy. So, ah, that bus stop will do fine.”

“Don’t be silly.” He brushed my words aside with a shake of his head. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Did you say you’re hungry? We could get a bite to eat before I drop you off.”

I was starving and it was nice seeing him again. He was better looking than I remembered. And wearing a nice suit from what I could see.

“I don’t know, Matt.”

“Come on, poppet,” he cajoled, turning around quickly to wink at me. “You can at least buy me dinner. I think I’ve earned it.”

I smiled at him, making a snap decision. I did owe him. Big time. “Okay, Matt.”

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