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Shania Twain’s “Whose Boots” played in the background. Anita sighed. She loved her. Talented woman with thousands of songs that moved her to the core. Her success was well earned. Prancing around the dance hall to one after the other, making up and adding her own movements, her ballet style all her own, she moved with grace and elegance. Her movements were fluid to the point of boneless.
“That Don’t Impress Me Much!” engendered a new thought and fresh movements. Completely involved, she hadn’t noticed Richard arrive. He stood on the side realizing she wasn’t aware of him barely daring to breathe. Her interpretation simple, elegant with a little sauciness to boot. A beautiful spin on point with the song.
When she stopped he clapped gently then firmer when her startled eyes turned toward him. “Hey.”
“I figured as much. That was beautiful.”
Dabbing the towel to her face she said, “Thanks.”
His watchful intense look always unsettled her and gave her goosebumps. “What’s up?” she asked curiously.
“Saw the lights on, wondered who was here. Might have known it was you.”
“Couldn’t settle after the performance, needed to unwind.”
“More dance does that for you?”
“More often than not.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“What does that mean?”
“Anything, nothing, everything,” he replied cryptically.
She watched him watching her. Unsettled. That’s what he did to her. She’d rarely made time for men in her life and the ones she had were a mistake. Still, there was something about him that got to her, heightened her senses, awakened desires she’d long denied, thrilling her with secret expectations. Yes, he unsettled her, greatly.