Fine Line
Don hadn't meant to go out. When he dealt with difficult cases, he preferred to stay at home, watch a baseball movie, and drown himself in anything but reality. Tonight, he'd changed his mind.
It was Terry's influence. She'd been teasing him for what felt like ever that he never got out. He'd asked her for suggestions once and she'd mentioned this club: Tentación. That was the only reason he was leaning against the wall of the club.
He figured this case was above and beyond the call of normality. He'd watched Terry fall apart and had felt utterly helpless to stop it. At least here he could take control of enough to satisfy his head and push Terry's broken eyes out of his memory.
He watched the floor with a small amount of disgust. This was not salsa. He knew since his mother, in an attempt to increase his dancing skills, had sent him to lessons when he was a teenager. He couldn't see himself bumping and grinding like those on the floor.
Then she walked in, temptation walking, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
She sidled up to the bar. He watched her gaze out over the floor much like he had done. His gaze travelled up and down her body, displayed in black and red, lace and loose fabric. She'd managed to show enough skin to be enticing, without going overboard. Her hair was half up, a style that he thought suited her perfectly. He allowed his eyes to move away for a moment, scanning the floor for any other woman that rivalled the beauty he'd just seen.
Nothing caught his eye and he moved back to watching her.
Men approached her and were systematically turned down and drinks sent to her were ignored. He grinned predatorily. Pre-mature. His eyes wandered again, not wanting to seem obvious in his attraction to her. As much as he wanted a body beside him, to bury himself in and lose himself, he didn't want to seem like a stalker. The next time he turned, she was right in front of him.
"Do you dance?" she asked, voice low and sultry. Don felt himself fall into the persona of a dangerous man, one that wanted nothing more than to throw a beautiful woman up against the wall and devour her.
"Depends on the dance," he returned, his own voice husky. A smile crawled across her face, one filled with promise.
"Not the partner?" He could hear the pout in her voice, even if her facial expression didn't mirror it. He chuckled.
"It does add a certain motivation," he conceded. He tugged on her hand, relishing his moment of being with a woman and having some control over what happened between them. He pulled her flush against him, lining his body with hers.
"Don," he introduced himself, kissing her neck in greeting. She arched against him as he quickly recalled the knowledge of past experience in this dance of seduction. While his partner looked like Terry Lake, there was something much more primal singing through her veins and showing in her eyes. He'd met this woman once at the academy.
"Theresa," she answered and he understood. This was where she was something different and detached from her every day pressure. Here, she was safe from counterfeiters and murderers. Here she was pure sex, perfect for her need of comfort to drown out her daily horrors. He played along.
"I dance," he said, answering her earlier question with much more clarity. "The question, then, becomes do you salsa?" She smirked at him, leading him to the middle of the dance floor before answering his question.
"One part skill, two parts seduction."