After the first fifteen minutes, Arden realized that the bachata class was more of a meet-and-greet for singles rather than a way for participants to actually learn the steps. There were approximately thirty students, with two more guys than girls. One guy paired up with the instructor, which left the other guy standing off to the side until he could rotate back in when the partners changed. The idea was for all the partners to switch every five minutes or so.
Marissa, the instructor, was in her early twenties. Tall and reed thin with dark hair and matching eyes, she certainly seemed to know what she was doing—to the point of coming off as bored with having to teach such simple steps. Her hair was skinned back in a ponytail, and she wore black spandex pants and a black t-shirt. Arden made a mental note to write her character so that she showed more interest in her students.
“You’re a good dancer,” her partner said appraisingly.
“Thanks.” It had only taken her a few minutes to get the hang of the beginner steps.
“You should come to the dance this weekend.”
Around her same age, her partner was a couple of inches taller than her 5’6” frame. Thickly set with dark, unruly hair and a square face, Dave seemed like a nice guy. He’d told Arden what he did for a living, but all she got out of the conversation was that he was some sort of software developer. Her one complaint was that his breath smelled like onions. Oh, and his meaty hands were moist. Make that two complaints.
Dave’s left eye twitched. “Maybe we could go to the dance together.”
“Thanks,” she said delicately, “but I’ll be out of town.” It was a white lie, but Arden figured it was kind to let him down gently.
He nodded in disappointment. “Maybe some other time.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Marissa led them through a sequence before telling them to switch partners.
Next, Arden got a tall man with glasses who was going bald. He offered her a polite smile. “The name’s Stephen.”
“Arden.” He seemed like the intellectual type, a banker or accountant perhaps.
“You’re beautiful,” he said frankly like she was an inanimate object rather than a person. “I can’t decide if your hair is brown or auburn.”
“Both.” She thought of herself as a brunette with auburn highlights.
He looked thoughtful. “Is your hair natural?”
“It is,” she laughed. “I’m afraid it’s a mess today … the windblown look.”
“I think it’s glorious,” he murmured, his expression dreamy.
“Thanks.” Okay, this was more than a little awkward. “What do you do, Stephen?”
“I’m an accountant.”
She fought the urge to grin. No surprise there. She’d pegged him accurately.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a writer.”
He looked impressed. “What do you write?”
“Novels.” Stephen’s moves were jerky and robotic, but at least he knew the steps, as opposed to poor Dave, who was tripping all over himself.
“Are you published?”
“Time to switch partners,” Marissa announced.
Whew, saved by the rotation. Arden had planned to attend several dance classes, but she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. The men seemed nice, but she didn’t like the forced nature of the experience. Also, there was a sense of desperation in the air, both from the men and women who were on the lookout for a significant other. It was a not-so-pleasant reminder that Arden was in the same situation. Would she ever find anyone who liked her for her rather than her family’s prestige? It didn’t help matters that Arden was a New York Times Bestselling Author. From the outside looking in, it probably seemed like she had it all put together. It just went to show that appearances were often deceiving. She’d toyed with the idea of pretending to be someone else, but she didn’t want to enter a relationship on the pretense of passing herself off as something she wasn’t.
As she moved to the next partner, a guy from across the room caught her attention. He was a little over six feet tall with an athletic build. He was strikingly handsome with thick golden hair that had just the right amount of wave. His stylish glasses gave him an understated, intelligent look. He was dressed simply in khaki pants, loafers, and a blue, short-sleeve polo that showcased his tanned arms and lean muscles. The guy must’ve felt her gaze because he offered a slight smile before ducking his head and turning his attention to his dance partner—a peppy-looking brunette with a wide smile. The woman was obviously into the guy. She gazed at him with a googly eyed expression that might’ve been comical if the woman didn’t look so desperate. Maybe the guy was into her too. Arden was taken aback by the hot shard of jealousy that jabbed her.
“Hello, darling,” her next partner drawled as he pulled her into his arms, holding her much too close for comfort. The guy’s cologne was so strong that it tickled Arden’s throat. She swallowed to keep from coughing.
He ogled her. “I’m Riley.”
“Arden,” she clipped.
“I’ll bet you’d like for me to take you out sometime.”
She huffed out a chuckle. “Not hardly.”
His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong? You don’t like what you see?”
The guy was a muscle monkey who probably lived in a gym. He was good-looking—the type who thought all women should fall at his feet.
She grunted. “Let’s just get through the dance.”
“Whatever you say,” he smirked.
“Time to learn the next sequence,” Marissa said loudly.
Arden was grateful when the baboon released her. The class watched as Marissa went through the steps with her partner a few times before encouraging them to try it.
The muscle monkey seemed reluctant to continue dancing now that Arden had turned him down. He kept looking around and scoping out other candidates. His eyes landed on the pretty brunette, who’d been dancing with the blond guy. She’d moved to another partner, as had the blond. Arden looked over at him. He was dancing with a middle-aged woman. The woman said something that caused the guy to laugh. Arden was impressed with how he was giving the woman his full attention.
When Marissa gave the signal to switch, Arden practically ran from the muscle monkey to the next partner. She moved from one person to the next, wondering if she would get to dance with the blond before the class ended.
Finally, they were paired together. Her skin tingled when he reached for her hand and pulled her into his arms. “Hello,” he began. His touch was light and comfortable, and he kept just the right amount of space between them.
“Hello,” she responded. “My name’s Arden.”
“Crew.”
He was even better looking up close than from afar. In fact, he was too handsome with clean-cut features, sun-kissed skin, and chiseled jaw. She grinned inwardly, thinking of how she and Olivia often joked that they both had a problem with dating men who were better looking than they were. (If only she’d taken that advice and stayed away from Hector.) Olivia’s husband Flynn was easy on the eyes, but at least he was rugged. Crew was more on the elegant side—a James Bond rather than a GI Joe. She was struck by the purity in his liquid blue eyes. Wowza, he was dazzling.
“It’s the zit, isn’t it?”
She jerked, heat filling her cheeks. “I’m sorry?”
A corner of his lip lifted in a crooked grin. “The zit on my chin. It’s all you can see.”
She burst out laughing. “Actually, I hadn’t noticed.” It was admirable how Crew didn’t take himself too seriously.
He studied her as if trying to determine if she were sincere.
“Truly,” she reaffirmed. The zit was microscopic.
At that, he relaxed.
“Are you from here, Crew?”
“The Bay area.” His manner of speech was neutral. No trace of an accent.
She blinked in surprise. “Me too.” She’d gone to San Francisco and stayed with a friend from college while writing a novel that took place in wine country. She fell in love with the city and eventually bought a condo.
He lifted an eyebrow. “San Francisco? You sound like you’re from the South.”
“Good ear. I’m originally from North Carolina.”
He looked pleased. “Thought so. What took you to San Francisco?”
She dreaded opening up about herself. Before she could fully process what she was doing, the words slipped out. “I’m an aspiring writer.” Liar, her conscience shouted. Hadn’t she just thought earlier that she had no patience for pretense? Then again, would it hurt to downplay her accomplishments? It would be nice to be judged by her own merits … to be plain ole’ Arden Chasing. She nearly laughed at the thought. Okay, there was nothing plain about the Chasings.
“Ah, that’s neat. Are you writing anything now?”
“I’m mostly doing research.” At least she’d been truthful about that. “What do you do?” she blurted before he could ask her anything else.
“I’m an architectural consultant.”
He went one way. She went another. He stepped on her foot.
“Oops. Sorry about that.” He offered a sheepish grin.
“No worries.” Other than the one misstep, he was a decent dancer.
“Let’s go through the full sequence,” Marissa said loudly. “We’ll do this a couple more times and then call it a night.”
A burst of pleasure ran through Arden at the thought of Crew being her last partner.
His eyes sparkled in a lighthearted challenge. “Can we do it without messing up?”
She laughed. “I guess we’re about to find out.” She could do the steps in her sleep.
They glided fluidly through the dance moves as if they’d done them a thousand times.
“You’re pretty good,” Arden observed. She liked the feel of his hand holding hers and the pressure of his other hand on her back as he maneuvered her.
He grinned and ducked a little under the praise. “So are you.”
Crew’s shy demeanor was endearing. It helped to downplay his extraordinarily good looks, making him more approachable. A lock of hair fell over his glasses. He flicked his head to push it back.
“In which part of the Bay do you live?” he asked.
“Glen Park. What about you?”
“The Mission District.”
“The trendy art section. Nice,” she drawled. “Are you an artist?”
He laughed easily. “Not in the slightest, but I’m an admirer of the arts.” A lopsided grin slid over his lips. “The street tacos sealed the deal.”
She grinned. “The Mexican food is outstanding in your neck of the woods.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement.
“What?”
“Neck of the woods. I hear the Southern coming out.”
“I’m afraid it’s imprinted on my DNA,” she joked. She was curious to learn more about him. Time was ticking away. She needed to get her questions out fast without sounding like an interrogator. “What brought you to Carmel?”
“I’m consulting on a new home that’s going up in Sea Haven.”
She had no idea where Sea Haven was but didn’t want to admit that.
“What about you?” A mild curiosity flicked over his features.
“I’m writing … err, I hope to write a novel that’s set here. I came to do research.”
“That’s a wrap,” Marissa announced. “Next week, we’ll pick back up where we left off, so be sure to practice. This Friday night, we have a dance with a live band. There will be a short dance instruction beforehand for those who wish to come early. See you there.”
The pretty brunette Crew had been partnered with earlier stepped up wearing a hopeful expression. “Will you be at the dance on Friday?” Her eyes tightened as she looked at Arden, no doubt viewing her as competition.
It was all Arden could do to hold a neutral expression as she waited to hear what Crew would say.
He offered the girl a polite smile. “Nope. I have to work.”
A thrill of victory shot through Arden. Not that Crew was turning the girl down. He simply had to work. Still, that meant he wouldn’t be getting together with the brunette.
“Oh,” the girl stammered, “that’s disappointing.” She forced a smile. “Well, I guess I’ll see you next week. Bye.” She waved before scampering away.
“See ya,” Crew called after her.
An awkward silence passed before Arden spoke. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too.”
As tempting as it was to ask Crew out for coffee, she didn’t dare do so. He would probably turn her down like he turned down the brunette. More awkward silence. “Thanks for the dance.”
He nodded.
Here’s where she expected him to make a move, but he didn’t. Normally, Arden was the one being pursued … to the point where she was put off. This was a new turn of events. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Hadn’t she wanted to be judged on her own merit? Well, now was her chance. Crew had no idea that she was a Chasing, nor did he know that she was a bestselling author. As far as he was concerned, she was simply a girl in a dance class. She got the feeling that Crew was the type of man who would make a woman work for his affection. She could respect that.
“My pleasure.” His eyes held hers, causing a wave of energy to pulse through her.
Time slowed as she drank in the rich color of his sapphire eyes. Ask me out, she silently begged. One beat passed … two. Disappointment lodged a cold cylinder down her throat. “Maybe we’ll see each other next week?” Had she really just said that? She supposed she’d be coming here again, after all. Geez, Louise, she was such a sap. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was about Crew that she found so engaging. He was a looker, that’s for sure. But it wasn’t just his pretty face that drew her in. Perhaps it was his aloofness that made him so attractive. Or maybe it was plain curiosity or boredom. She was alone in a new place. The writing wasn’t coming. At this point, she’d do nearly anything to postpone staring at that blank page. Not really. But getting to know Crew would provide a welcome distraction. And, with a guy like him on her arm, Hector Covington would eat his heart out. Don’t go there, she warned herself. It would be foolish to drag some guy she’d only just met across the continent to attend a party in the Hamptons. Crew didn’t seem like he would have much patience with a high falutin’ shindig. Then again, she’d only just met him, so it was hard to tell what type of man he was. Of course, she had three weeks to get to know him …
“Maybe,” he said evasively.
His reaction stung. He was definitely shooting her down. Scratch the party in the Hamptons and any other hope of an association with Crew.
She gave him a bright smile which she hoped would convey that she couldn’t care less. “See ya,” she said blithely as she went to retrieve her purse from a cubby underneath the bench that ran the length of one wall. She was tempted to look back as she left the dance floor but didn’t want to give Crew the satisfaction of knowing that she was into him.
