In Perfect Time by Sarah Sundin

Author:Sarah Sundin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC027050
ISBN: 9781441245113
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2014-05-04T16:00:00+00:00

28

Roger tapped his fork on his cake plate and laughed at something Shell said. How could he pay attention when the five-piece band played at the wrong speed? “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” was meant to be slow but lively, and this crew drained out all the life.

His fork didn’t carry a drum’s authority, and the band maintained its doleful pace.

The flight nurses had transformed the officers’ mess into a reception hall with flowers and streamers and other girly stuff. They’d even made cake and coffee. But the base band . . . ?

The clarinet squeaked, and Roger cringed.

“Hi there, gentlemen.” Kay approached the table with Georgie.

Roger’s mind leaped back to the Orange Club, except now Kay didn’t have a predatory look. But she was more gorgeous than ever, curls up on top of her head, green dress swooshing over her curves, and one bare arm perched on her hip.

“Hi.” Unlike at the Orange Club, he remembered his manners. He bolted to his feet and held out a chair, while Mike, Shell, and Bert Marino did likewise. Four chairs for two ladies.

Kay didn’t sit. “Swell reception, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Several couples had joined the bride and groom on the dance floor, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in spite of the music. “It’d be better if I could get behind the drums and pick up the beat.”

Kay tilted her head, a glint in her eyes. “Since you can’t play, you might as well dance.”

“Uh-uh.” He backed up and shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

A playful smile rolled up her lips, and she held out both hands to him. “What’s the matter? No sense of rhythm?”

The men at the table broke up laughing. Bert slapped Roger on the back. “A drummer without rhythm? That’s like a pilot scared of heights. Oh wait—that’s Coop.”

“Ah, shut up.” Roger elbowed him.

“You’d better prove them wrong.” Kay grasped both his hands.

Her touch—cool as water, and like water on a parched throat, it made him realize how thirsty he’d been.

Kay tipped her head toward the dance floor and gave him a teasing smile.

He couldn’t do this. He leaned closer so he could speak low. “I haven’t danced since high school.”

“All the more reason—” Her eyes went round with understanding. “Oh.”

Roger nodded. Thank goodness she saw.

How was it possible for her expression to grow softer and firmer at the same time? “All the more reason for you to dance now. Prove your past is past.”

“I don’t—”

“It won’t kill you.” A little tug on his hands, and she led him to the dance floor.

No, it wouldn’t kill him. It’d quench his thirst and make him thirstier than ever.

Kay twirled to face him and set one hand on his shoulder. “What shall we dance? The Charleston?”

He chuckled and succumbed to putting his hand on her waist. “I’m not that old.”

“Might as well be if you haven’t danced in a decade.”

Twelve years. He racked his memory and settled into a simple foxtrot. Least he remembered something.

Kay moved with practiced ease, smooth and supple.

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