Matt Caldwell: Texas Tycoon

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“Yes, you are,” he replied, and he wasn’t kidding. “Come on, forget your troubles and enjoy yourself. Tonight, there is no tomorrow. Eat, drink and be merry.”

For tomorrow, you die, came the finish to that admonishing verse, she recalled darkly. But she didn’t say it. She put some cheese straws and finger sandwiches on a plate and opted for soda water instead of a drink.

Ed found them two chairs on the rim of the dance floor, where they could hear the band and watch the dancing.

The band had a lovely dark-haired singer with a hauntingly beautiful voice. She was playing a guitar and singing songs from the sixties, with a rhythm that made Leslie’s heart jump. The smile on her face, the sparkle in her gray eyes as she listened to the talented performer, made her come alive.

From across the room, Matt noted the abrupt change in Leslie. She loved music. She loved dancing, too, he could tell. His strong fingers contracted around his own plate.

“Shall we sit with the Devores, darling?” Carolyn asked, indicating a well-dressed couple on the opposite side of the ballroom.

“I thought we’d stick with my cousin,” he said carelessly. “He’s not used to this sort of thing.”

“He seems very much at home,” Carolyn corrected, reluctantly following in Matt’s wake. “It’s his date who looks out of place. Good heavens, she’s tapping her toe! How gauche!”

“Weren’t you ever twenty-three?” he asked with a bite in his voice. “Or were you born so damned sophisticated that nothing touched you?”

She actually gasped. Matt had never spoken to her that way.

“Excuse me,” he said gruffly, having realized his mistake. “I’m still upset by Boles.”

“So…so I noticed,” she stammered, and almost dropped her plate. This was a Matt Caldwell she’d never seen before. His usual smile and easygoing attitude were conspicuous for their absence tonight. Boles must really have upset him!

Matt sat down on the other side of Leslie, his eyes darkening as he saw the life abruptly drain out of her. Her body tensed. Her fingers on her plate went white.

“Here, Carolyn, trade places with me,” Matt said suddenly, and with a forced smile. “This chair’s too low for me.”

“I don’t think mine’s much higher, darling, but I’ll do it,” Carolyn said in a docile tone.

Leslie relaxed. She smiled shyly at the other woman and then turned her attention back to the woman on the stage.

“Isn’t she marvelous?” Carolyn asked. “She’s from the Yucatаn.”

“Not only talented, but pretty as well,” Ed agreed. “I love that beat.”

“Oh, so do I,” Leslie said breathlessly, nibbling a finger sandwich but with her whole attention on the band and the singer.

Matt found himself watching her, amused and touched by her uninhibited joy in the music. It had occurred to him that not much affected her in the office. Here, she was unsure of herself and nervous. Perhaps she even felt out of place. But when the band was playing and the vocalist was singing, she was a different person. He got a glimpse of the way she had been, perhaps, before whatever blows of fate had made her so uneasy around him. He was intrigued by her, and not solely because she wounded his ego. She was a complex person.

Ed noticed Matt’s steady gaze on Leslie, and he wanted to drag his cousin aside and tell him the whole miserable story. Matt was curious about Leslie, and he was a bulldozer when he wanted something. He’d run roughshod right over her to get his answers, and Leslie would retreat into the shell her experiences had built around her. She was just coming into the sunlight, and here was Matt driving her back into shadow. Why couldn’t Matt be content with Carolyn’s adoration? Most women flocked around him; Leslie didn’t. He was sure that was the main attraction she held for his cousin. But Matt, pursuing her interest, could set her back years. He had no idea what sort of damage he could do to her fragile emotions.

The singer finished her song, and the audience applauded. She introduced the members of the band and the next number, a beautiful, rhythmic feast called “Brazil.” It was Leslie’s very favorite piece of music, and she could dance to it, despite her leg. She longed, ached, for someone to take her on the dance floor and let her show those stiff, inhibited people how to fly to that poignant rhythm!

Watching her, Matt saw the hunger in her eyes. Ed couldn’t do those steps, but he could. Without a word, he handed Carolyn his empty plate and got to his feet.

Before Leslie had a chance to hesitate or refuse outright, he pulled her gently out of her seat and onto the dance floor.

His dark eyes met her shocked pale ones as he caught her waist in one lean, strong hand and took her left hand quite reverently into his right one.

“I won’t make any sudden turns,” he assured her. He nodded once, curtly, to mark the rhythm.

And then he did something remarkable.

Leslie caught her breath as she recognized his ability. She forgot to be afraid of him. She forgot that she was nervous to be held by a man. She was caught up in the rhythm and the delight of having a partner who knew how to dance to perfection the intricate steps that accompanied the Latin beat.

“You’re good,” Matt mused, smiling with genuine pleasure as they measured their quick steps to the rhythm.

“So are you.” She smiled back.

“If your leg gives you trouble, let me know and I’ll get you off the floor. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Then let’s go!”

He moved her across the floor with the skill of a professional dancer and she followed him with such perfection that other dancers stopped and got out of the way, moving to the sidelines to watch what had become pure entertainment.

Matt and Leslie, enjoying the music and their own interpretation of it, were blind to the other guests, to the smiling members of the band, to everything except the glittering excitement of the dance. They moved as if they were bound by invisible strings, each to the other, with perfectly matching steps.

As the music finally wound down, Matt drew her in close against his lean frame and tilted her down in an elegant, but painful, finish.

The applause was thunderous. Matt drew Leslie upright again and noticed how pale and drawn her face was.

“Too much too soon,” he murmured. “Come on. Off you go.”

He didn’t move closer. Instead, he held out his arm and let her come to him, let her catch hold of it where the muscle was thickest. She clung with both hands, hating herself for doing something so incredibly stupid. But, oh, it had been fun! It was worth the pain.

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Matt eased her down into her chair again.

“Do you have any aspirin in that tiny thing?” Matt asked, indicating the small string purse on her arm.

She grimaced.

“Of course not.” He turned, scanning the audience. “Back in a jiffy.”

He moved off in the general direction of the punch bowl while Ed caught Leslie’s hand in his. “That was great,” he enthused. “Just great! I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

“Neither did I,” she murmured shyly.

“Quite an exhibition,” Carolyn agreed coolly. “But silly to do something so obviously painful. Now Matt will spend the rest of the night blaming himself and trying to find aspirin, I suppose.” She got up and marched off with her barely touched plate and Matt’s empty one.

“Well, she’s in a snit,” Ed observed. “She can’t dance like that.”

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Leslie murmured. “But it was so much fun, Ed! I felt alive, really alive!”

“You looked it. Nice to see your eyes light up again.”

She made a face at him. “I’ve spoiled Carolyn’s evening.”

“Fair trade,” he murmured dryly, “she spoiled mine the minute she got into the limousine and complained that I smelled like a sweets shop.”

“You smell very nice,” she replied.

He smiled. “Thanks.”

Matt was suddenly coming back toward them, with Lou Coltrain by the arm. It looked as if she were being forcibly escorted across the floor and Ed had to hide the grin he couldn’t help.

“Well,” Lou huffed, staring at Matt before she lowered her gaze to Leslie. “I thought you were dying, considering the way he appropriated me and dragged me over here!”

“I don’t have any aspirin,” Leslie said uneasily. “I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Lou said instantly. She patted Leslie’s hand gently. “But you’ve had some pretty bad bruising and this isn’t the sort of exercise I’d recommend. Shattered bones are never as strong, even when they’re set properly—and yours were not.”

Embarrassed, Leslie bit her lower lip.

“You’ll be okay,” Lou promised with a gentle smile. “In fact, exercise is good for the muscles that support that bone—it makes it stronger. But don’t do this again for a couple of weeks, at least. Here. I always carry aspirin!”

She handed Leslie a small metal container of aspirin and Matt produced another cup of soda water and stood over her, unsmiling, while she took two of the aspirins and swallowed them.