The middle sister, Theresa, had been reclining on the sofa, critical as always. “Ha. You’ll never get the hang of it, Johnnie. You’ve got two left feet.”
But Sadie Marceone had hushed her daughter, encouraging him. “You never mind what Tessa says, Johnnie. You just keep trying. You’ll learn.”
And so he had, going at it with that same dogged determination he threw into achieving every goal he set.
“Ow!”
An outcry of pain from Rory snapped his attention back to her. It would seem he hadn’t learned so much after all.
“Sorry,” he said, apologizing for having stomped on her foot. He paused a moment to let her rub her ankle. When they attempted to resume the dance, they were more miserably stiff than before.
“Aw, the hell with the steps,” Zeke said. “Let’s do it our own way.”
Rory glanced up at him, surprised at first, then flashing an answering grin. Surprisingly enough, they fared better bounding across the room in their own style. Rory matched him step for step.
By the time the music ended, their mad romp was accorded a smattering of applause from the other dancers. Rory’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. Breathless and laughing, Zeke led her over to the bar for a drink.
Zeke tried to order a lemonade for her, but the bartender looked at him as though he thought he’d lost his mind. He had to settle for two champagne cocktails instead. He watched in some alarm as the thirsty Rory gulped hers down as if it were water.
“Hey, take it easy,” he said.
“It’s all right. We Irish have ‘credibly hard heads,” she assured him and then hiccupped. He smiled. Taking the glass from her, he prepared to lead her back out onto the floor as the band struck up a waltz.
It was then that the inevitable happened. He spotted someone from the old neighborhood. He could hardly pretend he didn’t know her, for he nearly walked dead-on into the woman. She was one of Sadie Marceone’s neighbors, living in the house on the opposite corner.
“Good evening Mrs. Jiannone,” he said, suppressing a grimace. “And how have you been?”
She stared straight into his eyes. There was no doubt but what she knew him, but she turned and walked away without a word. Zeke didn’t like to admit it, but the snub hurt more than any slight Mrs. Van H.’s fancy friends could have dealt him. Perhaps the pain came from knowing what Mrs. Jiannone must be thinking.
It’s that worthless boy, the one poor Sadie Marceone took into her home, the one everyone said would turn out bad, the one everyone predicted would break her heart.
They had been right. He had.
“Is anything wrong, Zeke,” Rory asked. She wasn’t so tipsy that she hadn’t noticed what had happened. Her eyes were wide with concern.
“No,” he said. “I just made a mistake, that’s all.” He swept Rory into his arms and into the movement of the dance. After the abandon of their previous romp, she seemed shy, dancing at this slower, more seductive pace.
She tried to keep him at a safe distance, but as the dance wore on, she let him draw her closer and closer, until if he had bent down, he could have laid the velvety curve of her cheek against his own. He was aware of nothing but how soft and warm she felt, the scent of her hair sweet and fresh even in the hall’s stifling atmosphere. He wanted to bury his face against the silken strands, lose himself in her, lose all past memories as well.
As her slender frame swayed in perfect rhythm with his, she roused fierce desires, and a gentler emotion he refused to examine more closely. He only knew he could hold her like this forever. He didn’t want this night to end. But why did it have to? He had sacrificed a great deal on the road to accumulating his riches, lost the respect of the only people he had ever cared about, lost the only real home he had ever known. If beingwealthy couldn’t get you what you wanted, then what was the good of it anyway?
And he wanted Aurora Rose Kavanaugh. A voice inside him cautioned him to go slow, to take it easy. But he had never been a patient man. If life had taught him one thing, it was that nothing was given freely. If you wanted something, you had to go after it, take it.
Rory was too caught up in the magic of the music herself to be aware of the tension coiling in Zeke. She hummed along with the band. As Zeke whirled her in a circle, a warning sounded in her mind that she should not let him hold her so close, but the warnings were getting fainter all the time.
Zeke’s arms were so sure, so strong, the only secure place in a world that spun giddily before her eyes. They might have been alone, dancing together in the dark, everything else so far away, the other couples, his mansion on Fifth Avenue, her balloon company. Only this moment seemed real, this man who held her so tight.
Tipping back her head, she stole a glance up at him. Even in the dim light of the dance hall, she could tell he was smiling at her. The lines about his eyes crinkled, the eyes themselves dark pools of mystery.
Rory stumbled a little, then giggled. “I’m awfully sorry. I guess my head’s not so hard after all. You must think I’m a fool.”
“What you are is a breath of fresh air.”
“Pooh,” she said. “More like a big wind, flattening your lawn.”
He laughed and the rich deep sound seemed to echo through her heart. “No, you are the best thing that has happened to me in an age.”
“You didn’t think so at first. You wanted to toss me into the streets, remember?”
