‘Please excuse my friends,’ he said as if he had picked up on her thoughts. ‘Waiting for the polo season to get underway frustrates them. I’m afraid they’re suffering an overdose of testosterone without the opportunity to work it off.’
‘I’m really not that sensitive.’
‘In the workplace? I would agree with you,’ he said. ‘But personally … I’m not so sure.’
‘They really didn’t upset me,’ Holly stressed. ‘So you can relax.’
‘If you ask me to …’
As his lips tugged she shivered with awareness. What was the female equivalent of Ruiz’s friends’ problem? Pheromone-frenzy? Whatever it might be she had it bad.
‘We’re all impatient for the polo season to start, Holly,’ Ruiz confided, drawing her gaze back to his strong, dark face.
Her name sounded so exotic on Ruiz’s lips it must be way past the time to steer her thoughts onto safer ground. ‘You must miss polo and Argentina very much.’
‘I miss my brothers more than the game. I even miss that wretched sister of mine,’ Ruiz admitted wryly. ‘I miss the space and the wild free gallops,’ he added, drawing her close, fortunately so engaged in his own thoughts Ruiz missed her sharp intake of breath as she collided with his hard body. ‘And I miss the warmth of the people.’
There was quite a lot of warmth going on here too, Holly thought as Ruiz pressed against her, but then she noticed he was staring over her head at nothing in particular, as if his thoughts were somewhere else, far away. But when the music started to play and his hand found hers she thrilled at the warmth of his touch. He moved gently at first, easing her into the dance, his confident movements in perfect timing with the beat of the music. He held her so lightly, and yet the music seemed to flow from him to her so that even Holly’s awkward body responded perfectly. She was infected by the rhythm, and by Ruiz, Holly concluded, and by the sense that on a cold winter’s night there was nowhere else on earth she would rather be than dancing the samba in Ruiz’s arms.
Had she gone completely mad?
Probably, Holly thought as Ruiz, having told her to relax, firmed his grip. ‘That’s better,’ he approved as she began to move a little more confidently to the music, but then he added, ‘I think you have been less than honest with me, Holly.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her head shot up.
‘You can dance,’ Ruiz said, smiling.
She smiled back, feeling good inside. Her hand felt right in his, and with Ruiz’s arm around her waist, his fingers lightly holding her, she realised she liked being part of a couple—this couple—however fleeting this chance of being with Ruiz might be. They moved well together, easily, as if they had been dancing this way all their lives. She had never made a show of herself like this before, yet here she was, dancing in public with a man born to use his body expertly, while she was twirling and flirting with her hips and with her eyes—
What was the worst that could happen? She could make a fool of herself? Something told her Ruiz would never allow that to happen.
‘You’re not even treading on my feet,’ he said dryly, dipping his head to direct this observation with a smile into her eyes.
‘Nor you on mine,’ she agreed.
‘Unusual for me,’ Ruiz remarked, smiling wickedly again.
She loved it when he teased her. She loved … Unfortunately for her peace of mind, she loved most things about Ruiz.
The samba was fast and flirty. If she had chosen to represent each of them with a dance it would be the passionate tango for Ruiz and an energetic barn dance with more gusto than panache for Holly. But somehow they were meeting in the middle with this highly charged, fast-moving pas de deux that left her little time to wonder if she was doing it right. No time to think, no time to feel self-conscious. Just fun and laughter, flashing eyes, and moving her body to the rhythm of the music in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible until tonight.
‘Now you’re really getting into it,’ Ruiz approved as he spun her round.
‘You know I’m only doing my best to keep up.’
‘No. You have a natural flair,’ Ruiz insisted, drawing her close again.
‘Not really. There are some great dancers here.’ And Ruiz was one of them, as every woman in the club seemed to agree. Thank goodness he couldn’t see her face, Holly thought as she relished the unaccustomed sensation of being pressed up close against him. Tough, hard and strong, Ruiz might look like a swarthy bad boy on the rampage, but he moved like a dream.
And this was a man whose reputation made Casanova seem like a choir boy. And what had happened the last time she had allowed herself to be lulled into a trancelike state by a good-looking man? Images of half-empty wine bottles and crisp packets piled up on a carpet of chocolate wrappers crowded into her head. Did she really want to go back there? Not that Ruiz had any need of her money.
‘I’ve lost you,’ he chided as the dance floor began to clear. ‘Where are you now, Holly? Worrying about the steps for the next dance?’ he suggested as the music started up again.
There couldn’t be a next dance if she wanted to keep any sense of reality where Ruiz was concerned. Her less than platonic feelings for him could only mean she was setting herself up for a fall. ‘Shouldn’t we be getting back for Bouncer?’
‘The dog?’ Ruiz gave her one of his looks. ‘Didn’t I take him out for the longest walk ever before we came here?’
‘He has been on his own for rather a long time.’
‘And will be asleep by now, I have no doubt,’ Ruiz assured her, his sexy eyes darkening in a smile. And then the infectious beat started up again. The moment his hand found the hollow in the small of her back she was lost. They were good together—frighteningly good.
When the dance ended Ruiz held her at arm’s length. ‘I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much, Holly.’
Was he serious? The adrenalin rush that had been brought on by dancing with Ruiz was subsiding, leaving a gap for Holly’s self-esteem issues to fill.
‘Thank you for tonight,’ he said.
‘I won’t put your toes in danger again, I promise.’
‘Where are you going?’ Ruiz caught hold of her.
‘To get my coat. To call a taxi.’ She held up her hand when Ruiz seemed as if he might argue with her. ‘You don’t have to leave. Thank you for a wonderful evening, Ruiz.’
Dipping his head low, Ruiz stared into her eyes. ‘Do you think I’m going to let you call a cab and leave the club on your own?’
‘I’m not a baby, Ruiz. And you don’t have to spoil your night just because I’m going home.’
‘I brought you here. I’m taking you home. And, anyway, it’s too late for you to be out on your own.’
If Ruiz was talking about the dangers of the night he would come top of her list. ‘I’ll be fine in a cab,’ Holly insisted. ‘If it makes you feel better, why don’t you call a reputable company of your own choosing?’
She was serious, he realised. He had to admire Holly’s strength of will. She was an independent woman and he respected that, but all he could think was how she’d felt in his arms when they danced together and how he didn’t want the evening to end. Holly was all woman—she just didn’t know it yet. Her hair had felt like spun