Excerpt of The Agent by Nancy Herkness

A couple of hours later, Natalie ran into Tully leaning against a column on the edge of the dance floor while he sipped a beer and watched the dancers gyrate in a kaleidoscope of swirling skirts, glittering sequins, and flashing light-up party favors.

“Taking a break from the social whirl?” she asked, surprised to find him alone.

“Replacing my electrolytes,” he said, holding up the half-empty glass. “That reminds me that I haven’t had the pleasure of a dance with you since that first stuffy waltz.”

Probably because she’d been avoiding that just like she’d avoided the bouquet that had been tossed straight at her. Why give Alice any more ideas?

Just then the high-energy pop number ended, and the band segued into a twangy country tune.

“Now we’re talkin’.” Tully tilted back his head and finished his beer in one long swallow. Plunking the glass down on a nearby table, he held out his hand. “They’re playing our song.”

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music,” she said, even as she automatically put her hand in his big, enveloping grip. It would have been rude to do anything else.

“But I do, so just follow my lead.” He tugged her onto the dance floor and then spun her into his arms. “It’s a two-step. Quick, quick, slow, slow.” He adjusted her left hand so it rested on his shoulder while his right hand rested on her shoulder blade, allowing him to support the entire length of her arm. “Here we go. Right foot behind you first.”

She felt his weight shift a second before he pressed her backward while he stepped forward. She moved her right foot as though it was the natural thing to do. Because that was how it felt when he was leading. The first time around the dance floor, she concentrated on the steps and finding the rhythm of the music.

The second time she began to notice things she didn’t want to. How warm Tully’s hand was as it wrapped around hers. The coiled energy that radiated from him as he moved in perfect time with the music. The way his arm provided a rock-solid support for her so she never stumbled.

“Tully! My man! Show us how it’s done!” someone called out.

And suddenly the center of the dance floor cleared, leaving the two of them alone on the expanse of parquet while the other dancers stood in a wide circle, clapping to the beat.

“Let’s give ’em a show.” Tully’s grin flashed in the low light of the dimmed chandeliers.

“I don’t—”

But he was already spinning her away from him so the pale pink chiffon of her skirt swirled around her ankles. Then he reeled her back in and started the two-step rhythm again. Except he began to twirl her as they moved, his left hand holding hers high over her head, his right hand guiding her shoulder in the direction he wanted her to turn. Then he somehow wove their arms together so they danced shoulder to shoulder before spinning her into their face-to-face position again. Another shift in position and they were whirling side by side with their hands still joined.

Exhilaration fizzed through her as she gave herself over to the man and the music in a way she hadn’t in years. When she faced him again, she smiled straight up into his eyes, wanting to share the delight she was feeling. He missed the beat of the next step by a fraction of a second and his easy grin disappeared, replaced by something intense and focused. Something that sent a shiver of awareness through her. He kept her facing him for longer than usual, the two of them locked in each other’s gaze.

She lowered her chin to stare at the onyx-and-gold studs of his tux shirt. And then he was spinning her again, so she had no time to think about the heat sizzling between them.

Until the song reached its final bars, when he pulled her in against him from knee to chest—his body like a hot, living wall—before he lunged to the side, taking her with him in a dramatic dip.

Their faces were a mere inch apart for a long moment as the guests whistled, stomped, and applauded. She could feel the feathering of his warm breath on her cheek and see the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. A waft of some clean, sharp, woodsy scent drifted past her.

And then she was lifted upright in a whoosh before he draped his arm casually around her waist while he bowed in mocking acknowledgment of the applause.