Want Me. Jo Leigh

she asked.

      He laughed, and it was so much deeper than when he’d been eighteen. She looked at him again. “How’s your sister?”

      “Married. With a kid. A little girl. They live in Montauk.”

      “Good for her.”

      Nate looked at the dance floor, his hand still on her arm. “You want to give it a go?”

      She hadn’t danced yet, and since the set was now modern music instead of traditional Irish dance, she smiled. “I’d love to.” Nodding at a beer mug on the closest table, she said, “Your table?”

      He slipped her purse from her fingers and put it next to the mug. “It is now.” Then he led her to a corner where they had some chance of not getting an elbow in the ribs.

      Shannon liked the song, although she never gave it a thought outside of weddings or elevators, but the beat was good, and she was feeling fine. Happy. She’d recruited Ariel, been completely surprised by Nate and no one had asked her to sing or do any step dancing. It had been part of her repertoire as a young girl, but she’d let it go when she entered high school. Sadly, the family hadn’t.

      She moved to the music, got her rhythm then smiled at Nate. Ten seconds later, it was all she could do not to burst out laughing.

      He was awful. The kind of awful that had to be genetic because no one would choose to dance that way. None of his limbs seemed connected to any of his other limbs, and what was he doing with his head?

      She squeaked as she held her smile in place, and he was grinning right back at her as if he owned the whole dance floor.

      Danny and Megan swung close by and Danny, her complete ass of a brother, slugged Nate in the shoulder, laughing so hard he had to stop everything else. “You are the saddest excuse for a white guy I have ever seen on a dance floor. Jesus, Nate, you look like someone stuck a firecracker up your ass.”

      Nate grinned at Danny and kept on doing … whatever it was he was doing. “I am my own man in every way,” he said—no, shouted—then he spun around in an oval. “You don’t recognize true artistic expression, you heathen. Be gone.” He flapped his hand, although it was pretty much what he was doing already.

      She laughed. But not because he was a total dork. Because he embraced being a dork. Her hand, she noticed, was over her heart, and despite the music and the utter chaos around her, all she could think was that Nate hadn’t just grown into a really good-looking man, he’d also become completely adorable.

      The music stopped, but only for a second, and the next song was faster, wilder, and she let go. By God, she let herself dance as if she were in her bedroom, as if no one were watching. Like Nate.

      His laughter hit her as she spun around, and she couldn’t help returning it. They’d earned themselves a nice slice of dance floor, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so free. The song ended too soon, and the two of them fell together to gasp in some much-needed breath.

      “That was fantastic,” he said.

      “It was.”

      “Not a lot of women appreciate my unique style.”

      “They’re fools and cretins.”

      “Ah, Shannon. You’re too kind.”

      “Oh, I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

      Another song started, but this one was a slow tune, a romantic number that made her wonder if she should beg off, or …

      He slipped his arms around her waist and started moving. Nothing fabulous, but also nothing uniquely styled. She found it easy to put her hands on his shoulders, to let her heartbeat slow.

      “Adventures, huh?”

      He shook his head a little. Met her gaze. “Of a sort.”

      “Danny mentioned you’d gone to help out after the Indonesian tsunami.”

      Nate nodded. “I did. I had skills, they needed help.”

      “And now?”

      “They still need it. A lot of people do. I work for an organization that sends me where I can do some good.”

      Someone bumped her from behind, pushing her against Nate’s body from knee to chest. Her first instinct was to put space between them, but there was also something else going on that wasn’t the crowd and certainly wasn’t dancing. There was no way not to look at him, and he was watching her as if they were alone in the room. He’d felt the tension, that was clear. A frisson went through her, and he felt that, too.

      Another bump, but this one parted them the way she hadn’t been able to.

      He swallowed, glanced around at the crowd, then back at her. “I could use a drink after all that self-expression. Do you mind? Our table’s open. I can get us drinks.”

      Thank goodness. She had no idea what the hell was up with those last few moments and she needed some space to get her breath back. “Great. White wine for me, please.”

      “Rebel.”

      She grinned. “That’s me.”

      He walked her to the table and her smile faded as she watched him make his way to the bar. If he’d been anyone else, she’d have known what all that sizzle and smoke had been about. Any other guy. Part of her wanted to apologize and assure him she hadn’t meant to press against him so intimately. But since she had … No. That wasn’t at all what she wanted to tell him. She had no idea what she wanted to say. Mostly because she hadn’t been able to read him. For a moment, she’d thought … But that was ridiculous.

      He’d been a hellion as a kid. Forever taking risks, talking big. It had gotten him into a lot of messes, and he’d dragged Danny along for most of those, but he’d always been welcome in the Fitzgerald home. Especially since his folks had worked such long hours.

      She had to wonder if he were still reckless, ready to jump into crazy situations without a second thought. His work sounded like something to be proud of, but also dangerous. Although she had to consider she’d known only the boy, not the man. Fourteen years was a long time, and she sure wasn’t the girl she’d been back then. Or maybe she was. It was sometimes hard to tell.

      While he was out of sight, she freshened her lipstick, practically the only thing she’d had room for in her purse aside from the small pen and notepad, a twenty and breath mints. Stupid little thing. At least the bridesmaid’s dress was nice. Not great, just a simple sleeveless sheath with a sweetheart neckline. In the past year alone, Shannon had been forced to wear five dresses that would never see the light of day again. At least this time she hadn’t been the maid of honor.

      She suspected all her friends and relatives asked her because of her connections. Being in charge of sales and marketing for the printing plant meant she was on a first-name basis with almost every vendor from Chelsea all the way down to the Village.

      “What’s that scowl about?”

      Nate put down her glass as well as his big mug of beer, then sat across from her. It caused a stir inside her that was frankly inappropriate. Good grief, she had to get over this. What she should be excited about was putting him on a trading card. A man with his looks, his international lifestyle, his unforgettable dancing needed to be out there. And the good women of St. Marks lunch exchange needed a breath of fresh air.

      He’d had a good haircut. Not overstyled, but neat. Whoever had had him on the chair understood that his high forehead was an asset, and that he could carry a longer sideburn than most.

      “You’re good-looking,” she said. Then froze. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

      Grabbing his beer, he paused. “What’s that?”

      Oh, what the hell. She was busy, he was busy, after tonight she probably wouldn’t see him again for another ten years. “You. I thought you were okay when you were