Want to dance with a pirate?

I jumped, and saw that the pirate I’d been ogling earlier stood beside me, holding out his hand. “I, uh . . .” I turned to Ray, who shrugged and turned away, no doubt hunting easier prey.

As the next number started, the pirate grabbed my hand and towed me across the dance floor away from Ray. Where was he taking me? And what was up with all this hand grabbing?

Yet, somehow his hand, with its warm, determined strength, felt different—much better—than Ray’s. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I protested half-heartedly, heart racing from being swept away like this. I hated pushy men. Didn’t I? Matt was always so considerate. And yet the racing beat of my heart was more pleasure than annoyance.

We’d crossed over to a less packed patch of dance floor when he stopped, facing me and still holding my hand. Music was playing again, this time something Latin with a provocative beat, maybe salsa.

“I don’t know how to dance to this,” I admitted. The only formal dance I’d ever learned was the foxtrot, to dance occasionally at weddings.

“Make it up.”

Was his voice always so low and growly or was it part of his act? It sent strange tingles through me, in a way Zorro hadn’t. He released my hand and stared down at me. In this dim light, I couldn’t really see his eyes, which made him mysterious and exciting. Was he just another guy on the make? But if so, why hadn’t he chosen the redhead or the Asian girl in the harem costume? They’d looked pretty available to me.

Given his commanding ways, it surprised me that he didn’t grab me and lead. He’d asked me to dance. He must know how. Still, he didn’t touch me and was obviously waiting for me.

My heart still raced pleasantly and the rhythm of the music called out to me. If ever there was a time to live in the moment . . . Feeling liberated by my costume and mask, and the fact the pirate and I hadn’t even exchanged names, I began to move, letting my hips sway the way the beat demanded.

He began to dance too, in a masculine version of what I was doing. At first he seemed a little awkward, probably getting a feel for those pirate boots, but then he really got into it. The man had excellent moves.

Though our bodies didn’t touch, somehow dancing with him to this music made me even more aware of the way my sequined dress shimmied over my skin, the fringe caressed my thighs, and the top slid across my naked breasts, teasing the nipples and making them harden. The sexy dress, the disguise of makeup and mask, the seductive music, and the dashing pirate with his take-charge manner all combined to make me cut loose even more. After all, if I looked like Roxie, the showgirl, I should act like her.

I remembered what Des said when we were choosing costumes in the shop. If you got it, girl, flaunt it!

And so I flaunted, in a way I’d never had the guts or even the inclination to do before. And the pirate flaunted back, his own movements growing more blatant. So sensual that, yes, they made me think of sex. Dancing with Ray in his Zorro costume had been fun until he got pushy, but this was a whole different thing.

It was only because of the dance, the music, I told myself as the tune changed, one Latin number replaced by another. Latin dance was supposed to be sensual. People danced this way all the time, with sexy confidence and flair. But I never had, and the pirate and I weren’t dancing the formal steps, we were creating something of our own that felt almost . . . erotic. Arousing. My nipples were taut and aching and a warm, tantalizing pulse beat between my thighs.

Not that I’d ever do anything about it. Not now, when Matt and I had just broken up. Still, it was amazing to feel so sexually aware. It wasn’t like me at all. If I’d been drinking, I’d blame it on the booze.

Like that night when Matt and I’d been drinking, joking around, and he’d tied my hands with my scarf and spanked me. It had shocked me, not because I was scared—I knew Matt was nothing like his father, and he’d never really hurt me—but because it was so out of character for him. Then a hot rush of unexpected pleasure made me cry out. Matt immediately stopped, saying he didn’t know what had come over him, begging my forgiveness, and asking me to try and forget it ever happened. He’d so clearly thought I should be appalled that I hadn’t dared admit I’d been turned on. I wanted Matt to love and respect me, not think I was a skank.

Matt . . . Why was I thinking about Matt when I was supposed to just enjoy the moment?

The pirate called me back into the moment by moving closer, his hands brushing my bare arms in a slow, deliberate slide that made my skin tingle, sent heat rushing through my veins, and speeded the pulse in my sex. Someone behind me bumped into me, hard. Thrown off balance, I stumbled forward, beginning to fall. Strong hands caught my upper arms, rescuing me. Holding me, steadying me.

He made me feel safe, and at the same time turned on.

And that made me feel guilty, yet intrigued. I’d never thought of dance as arousing. It was just a fun activity shared with friends. But tonight, it was like the most exquisite foreplay. I should walk away, but I couldn’t. This was the kind of excitement I’d craved and I was going to savor this moment.

His hands moved from my upper arms to my shoulders, then in a slow caress down my bare back, and then over the dress to my waist. Oh, my. My heart raced faster than the music and my cheeks burned. Was this part of finding the new Merilee? She liked to dress up and dance with a hot guy? Well, not just any hot guy, but an anonymous pirate with very smooth moves.

Solely in the interests of research, I let him ease me closer, his hands firm and warm on my lower back. He’d feel every wriggle of my waist and hips, and feel the muscles shift in my butt, which was naked but for a tiny strip of thong—the kind of underwear I rarely wore at home.

A thong that, between my legs, was damp with more than sweat. The only man I’d ever had sex with, ever even kissed, was Matt. I’d never wanted to be with anyone else. Now, though, my body throbbed with a need I barely understood. Not that I’d do anything about it, not beyond dancing.

But now I knew it was possible to feel this way. Some day, when Matt and I had each moved on in our lives, I’d find this again with someone.

Leading now, the pirate synched our motions so our bodies moved in harmony, forward and back, side to side, brushing teasingly, temptingly.

Tentatively, I raised my arms to clasp my hands behind his neck, under those midnight curls of hair, to rest on flesh that burned as warm as my cheeks. He was tall, but not quite as tall as Matt, or maybe it was just my heels that made him seem shorter. Usually, I wore flats or sandals.

Against my forearms, the leather of his vest was hard and rough, a sensual abrasion. His chest, bared almost to his waist by the flowing pirate shirt, was firmly muscled and lightly glossed with sweat. I felt the crazy impulse to lick it.

He moved even closer, or maybe I did. The vest that covered him to mid-thigh was bulky and hard between us. How much better this would feel if he took it off and wore only the loose shirt and those leg-hugging black pants. I wanted to be closer, to rub against him, to feel him respond and grow hard. To—

“No!” On a quick gasp, I lowered my hands and pushed against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he said in that growly voice.

“This. I’m sorry, I know it’s just a dance, but I . . .”

“What?”

“I have a . . .”

“Boyfriend?”

“N-no. But this isn’t, I mean, it doesn’t feel . . .”

“Good?”

Of course, and that was the problem.

We’d stopped moving and stood still among the other dancers. He hadn’t let go of me, but gripped my hips firmly. Then he said, “Merilee.”

“Wh-what?” I hadn’t told him my name. Then, in my mind, I heard him again. Speaking not in a growly voice now, but— “Matt?” I gaped up in disbelief.

“Good costume, eh?”

There was an edge in his voice, but I didn’t try to analyze it. Stunned, I could only stare at him. This was Matt? I’d never imagined he would choose a pirate costume. He wasn’t exactly a dashing, take no prisoners kind of guy. But then, I wasn’t exactly a racy flapper either. How could I not have realized it was him? Of course, the lights weren’t bright and I couldn’t see anything of him but his jaw—unshaven, which wasn’t like him—and the exposed portion of his chest. His very sexy chest.

“You really didn’t guess it was me?” he asked, sounding annoyed.