Once out of the vehicle, Pezzini took the arm Nottingham proffered,
and they swept up the red-carpeted entrance. The canopy overhead was red as
well, with The Marimba in gold script across the front. It looked like the
exterior of every other swanky club in New York City, she was slightly
disappointed to note. So much for the 'fabulous atmosphere' the newspaper
had raved about.
Sara could hear the buzz from the people waiting in line, as they wondered who the dark-haired couple might be. It was fun really, watching the doorman scramble to open the door for them like they were rock stars. A steady diet of this would probably make her cranky, but for tonight it was part of the magic.
Once past the frosted glass doors, the atmosphere that had been missing from the exterior showed up in spades. Filled with mahogany woodwork, burgundy flocked velvet wallpaper, chandeliers dripping crystal flame, and a single mirror covering one entire wall, the place felt like an old world ballroom. The staff even wore dark wine formal evening dress, identifiable only by the uniformity of color and cut.
The lessons started at eight o'clock, which wasn't for another fifteen minutes. Sara and Ian wandered arm in arm around the interior to fill the time. Nottingham wanted to know where all the exits were, which was fine with her. Pezzini found that kind of information useful too. Besides, she wanted to make sure she knew where the bathroom was.
It took them the better part of ten minutes to wander the edge of the club. They both noted the staff entrances, emergency exits, coatroom, and the bathrooms. There were two sets of restrooms, Sara was pleased to discover, one on each end of the ballroom.
After the circuit had been completed, Ian was able to relax a bit. He was so strongly conditioned to know his surroundings that he was unable to come down off high alert without having a layout. He wanted to let that tension go, as much as he was able, so he could focus on being with the woman of his dreams.
"Shall we find a place on the dance floor?" Ian inquired, glancing over the couples that were already lining up.
"Certainly. I can't wait; I've wanted to learn how to do this since I was a little girl. Every year I watch the dance troupes during the Latin Festival, I've just never gotten up the nerve to try it." Sara's eyes were sparkling with excitement.
"I am honored you have chosen to share this experience with me." Ian let her lead the way to the dance floor. Sara was so jazzed that he had trouble keeping up, even with his longer legs.
He found her comment surprising; Nottingham would never have thought that Sara was afraid to try anything. It was also a startling reminder of the neighborhood she grew up with, something that was easy to forget somehow. This was the first time she'd ever referred to her childhood. Maybe it upset her to discuss because her deceased father had been such a strong presence during that part of her life?
He should have realized that she would have been exposed to the dance on a cultural level. The address was in her file; he'd even checked the area out. It would be hard to miss the Latino influence. It bothered Ian that he had not made the connection. Clearly, he still had a great deal to learn about the complex woman on his arm. Nottingham was looking forward to the experience.
"Is it just me, or are we underdressed?" Ian leaned down to murmur in her ear as they joined the glittering throng. Several of the outfits were beaded and sequined to a fare-thee-well; even the men's clothes were not immune to embellishment. Nottingham felt downright conservative in his white shirt.
"I think the guy in the starburst pants is checking you out." Sara grinned up at Ian cheekily. Most macho guys were homophobic; she could make Jake twitchier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs with a comment like that.
Pez did not approve of the attitude; she could not abide bigotry, so she tweaked McCarty about it whenever she could. Part of her wanted to wind Ian up, the other part hoped he was secure enough in his masculinity to take it in stride. If he wasn't, they were not going to get very far as a couple. Sara had several gay friends, and she wasn't ostracizing them for her new boyfriend.
"Jealous?" Ian arched a brow. He didn't bother looking behind him to see whom she was referring to. He had seen Pezzini razz McCarty like this too many times to be taken in. Besides, a person's sexual preferences didn't bother him. Unless they wouldn't take no for an answer, but he was equally abrupt with the women as the men.
"Maybe. He's kinda cute. Why are all the cute ones taken or gay?" Sara mock-pouted, glad to see that Nottingham was not freaking on her.
"I'm sure I have no idea." Ian was upset. Since he was neither taken, nor gay, he must not be cute. His fragile ego was wounded by her casual words, however much he tried not to be.
Sara recognized the frost in his tone and mentally backpedaled. Ooops, had she really been crass enough to imply that her date wasn't cute? 'Nice going, Pez. No wonder you don't get out much.' A sarcastic little voice pointed out.
"You are not cute. You might have been cute as a little boy, but now that is definitely not the right word for you. Handsome, devastating, and gorgeous come to mind, but not cute." Sara put one hand on his chest; she couldn't help but notice the hard muscles under the soft cotton of his shirt. She tried not to let it distract her, but she savored the feeling nonetheless.
"I...thank you, Lady Sara." Ian could hardly speak over the emotional whiplash. She had completely jerked his reality around with that statement. One moment he was miserable, the next he was floating with elation.
He just couldn't get himself together enough to say anything else, even though he wanted to return the compliment and tell her how beautiful she was. Since he couldn't get his brain to string together a coherent sentence, he did the next best thing.
Nottingham took the hand that Sara had laid on his chest in his own hand. He raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss over her knuckles in tribute. He looked from her hand to her eyes and was suddenly drowning in two pools of jade. He thought he might be blushing again and hoped the dim lighting would hide the fact.
Sara could hear the buzz from the people waiting in line, as they wondered who the dark-haired couple might be. It was fun really, watching the doorman scramble to open the door for them like they were rock stars. A steady diet of this would probably make her cranky, but for tonight it was part of the magic.
Once past the frosted glass doors, the atmosphere that had been missing from the exterior showed up in spades. Filled with mahogany woodwork, burgundy flocked velvet wallpaper, chandeliers dripping crystal flame, and a single mirror covering one entire wall, the place felt like an old world ballroom. The staff even wore dark wine formal evening dress, identifiable only by the uniformity of color and cut.
The lessons started at eight o'clock, which wasn't for another fifteen minutes. Sara and Ian wandered arm in arm around the interior to fill the time. Nottingham wanted to know where all the exits were, which was fine with her. Pezzini found that kind of information useful too. Besides, she wanted to make sure she knew where the bathroom was.
It took them the better part of ten minutes to wander the edge of the club. They both noted the staff entrances, emergency exits, coatroom, and the bathrooms. There were two sets of restrooms, Sara was pleased to discover, one on each end of the ballroom.
After the circuit had been completed, Ian was able to relax a bit. He was so strongly conditioned to know his surroundings that he was unable to come down off high alert without having a layout. He wanted to let that tension go, as much as he was able, so he could focus on being with the woman of his dreams.
"Shall we find a place on the dance floor?" Ian inquired, glancing over the couples that were already lining up.
"Certainly. I can't wait; I've wanted to learn how to do this since I was a little girl. Every year I watch the dance troupes during the Latin Festival, I've just never gotten up the nerve to try it." Sara's eyes were sparkling with excitement.
"I am honored you have chosen to share this experience with me." Ian let her lead the way to the dance floor. Sara was so jazzed that he had trouble keeping up, even with his longer legs.
He found her comment surprising; Nottingham would never have thought that Sara was afraid to try anything. It was also a startling reminder of the neighborhood she grew up with, something that was easy to forget somehow. This was the first time she'd ever referred to her childhood. Maybe it upset her to discuss because her deceased father had been such a strong presence during that part of her life?
He should have realized that she would have been exposed to the dance on a cultural level. The address was in her file; he'd even checked the area out. It would be hard to miss the Latino influence. It bothered Ian that he had not made the connection. Clearly, he still had a great deal to learn about the complex woman on his arm. Nottingham was looking forward to the experience.
"Is it just me, or are we underdressed?" Ian leaned down to murmur in her ear as they joined the glittering throng. Several of the outfits were beaded and sequined to a fare-thee-well; even the men's clothes were not immune to embellishment. Nottingham felt downright conservative in his white shirt.
"I think the guy in the starburst pants is checking you out." Sara grinned up at Ian cheekily. Most macho guys were homophobic; she could make Jake twitchier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs with a comment like that.
Pez did not approve of the attitude; she could not abide bigotry, so she tweaked McCarty about it whenever she could. Part of her wanted to wind Ian up, the other part hoped he was secure enough in his masculinity to take it in stride. If he wasn't, they were not going to get very far as a couple. Sara had several gay friends, and she wasn't ostracizing them for her new boyfriend.
"Jealous?" Ian arched a brow. He didn't bother looking behind him to see whom she was referring to. He had seen Pezzini razz McCarty like this too many times to be taken in. Besides, a person's sexual preferences didn't bother him. Unless they wouldn't take no for an answer, but he was equally abrupt with the women as the men.
"Maybe. He's kinda cute. Why are all the cute ones taken or gay?" Sara mock-pouted, glad to see that Nottingham was not freaking on her.
"I'm sure I have no idea." Ian was upset. Since he was neither taken, nor gay, he must not be cute. His fragile ego was wounded by her casual words, however much he tried not to be.
Sara recognized the frost in his tone and mentally backpedaled. Ooops, had she really been crass enough to imply that her date wasn't cute? 'Nice going, Pez. No wonder you don't get out much.' A sarcastic little voice pointed out.
"You are not cute. You might have been cute as a little boy, but now that is definitely not the right word for you. Handsome, devastating, and gorgeous come to mind, but not cute." Sara put one hand on his chest; she couldn't help but notice the hard muscles under the soft cotton of his shirt. She tried not to let it distract her, but she savored the feeling nonetheless.
"I...thank you, Lady Sara." Ian could hardly speak over the emotional whiplash. She had completely jerked his reality around with that statement. One moment he was miserable, the next he was floating with elation.
He just couldn't get himself together enough to say anything else, even though he wanted to return the compliment and tell her how beautiful she was. Since he couldn't get his brain to string together a coherent sentence, he did the next best thing.
Nottingham took the hand that Sara had laid on his chest in his own hand. He raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss over her knuckles in tribute. He looked from her hand to her eyes and was suddenly drowning in two pools of jade. He thought he might be blushing again and hoped the dim lighting would hide the fact.