Leaving Normal Stef Holm (classic literature books TXT) 📖

a perfumed hand on his shoulder, her fingernails painted red to match her dress. "Dance with me."

Maybe it was the way she took command with a rare self-assurance that had him following while she led the way to the dance floor. Perhaps there was a trace of ego involved—his. Or maybe it was because she had paid for the right.

Being won by a beautiful woman for the night was something he'd never experienced before.

He quickly discovered that he liked it.

Music drifted around Natalie, making her feel isolated and alone at the table while others danced. She was sorry that Sarah had been unable to come with her tonight. Her sister had had to go to a school event with her girls. Even the youthful Meagan would have been nice to sit and socialize with, but the clerk had had other plans for tonight.

So Natalie sat there, the table empty, wineglasses empty, and those who had been around her out on the dance floor.

She caught sight of Tony and a woman in red as they danced past.

Seeing him with the stunningly beautiful woman, Natalie wasn't prepared for the pang of something un-definable to assail her. She didn't want to consider it jealousy…envy, maybe.

She envied that woman.

Natalie's gaze connected with every place the couple touched. Their hands, their bodies, their legs as they moved flawlessly in unison.

Her breathing shortened, her muscles grew tense and in some place deep inside her she felt a void.

Stupid.

Why was she suddenly feeling so lost, so alone sitting by herself?

The dance ended and Tony's date—Natalie assumed she was the woman who'd won him—appeared quite content. When the bidding had ended, Natalie had tried to get a look at the woman who'd bought Tony for the evening, but the crowd had disbursed on the dance floor and the room had been pressed too tight with couples for her to get a look at anything.

Now she wished she hadn't seen Tony at all.

Natalie felt self-conscious sitting all by herself. She'd just decided to leave, call the evening to an end, when Tony's voice came to her ears.

"The flowers you did for this evening look great."

Her chin shot up. "Oh…thank you."

Tony smelled incredibly masculine, wonderfully clean and musky. She'd noticed it before when they'd been talking earlier.

She thought he looked good beyond words in his suit. She never imagined he'd wear one so well. Of course he was Tony Cruz—anything he did seemed to be larger than life, and the simple suit and tie only enhanced his presence.

"Where's your date?" she asked, angry with herself for even voicing what she was wondering.

"The ladies' room." His eyes held hers. "Let's dance," he suggested, extending his hand.

A thread of panic wound around her, and she took a quick breath. "I wouldn't want your date—"

"Sophia's not my date. I came alone and I'll go home alone."

Sophia. Even the name was intriguing.

Her reluctance was met by a grasp of her hand and, the next thing she knew, she was being coaxed to her feet and led onto the dance floor.

Beside herself, she was in Tony's strong arms being turned around a parquet floor.

Over the strains of the music, he said, "You look amazing."

"Thank you," she murmured, not liking that he could so easily make her feel so nervous. This was ridiculous. The reaction she had toward him, as always, made her very aware she was female and he was male. There was no denying he was masculine beyond belief, so handsome he took coherent thoughts right out of her head, but that was no reason to get silly about it.

"I like your dress." His eyes were dark, a serious depth to the brown color as his gaze lowered and he made no attempt to hide his appreciation for her cleavage.

"Thank you," she repeated automatically. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, "You look wonderful."

"You think?"

"You know you do." She tried to put a teasing tone in her voice, anything to alleviate the butterflies swimming in her stomach.

"Yeah, maybe I look okay."

"More than that, and every woman in this room has probably told you as much." v

"Sophia said I look like James Bond."

Amusement stretched a smile on Natalie's mouth. Sophia was trying hard to stroke his ego—not that he needed it. "I wouldn't go that far."

"So, are you a Brosnan or Connery fan?"

"Connery, of course. He was hot in Medicine Man."

"You think?"

"I just said so, didn't I?" she bantered.

"Yeah, you did." His smile went straight to her heart.

She was very conscious of the feel of his muscles. Tony was solid, strong, and he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence. He was big and powerful, the rich outlines of his shoulders straining in the wool fabric of his suit. The white of his evening shirt was bright, the collar crisp. She liked his tie; it had a geometric pattern in hues of green and blue with a light dash of red.

She had to tilt her head back to get a full view of his face because he stood a good head taller than her.

The way he held himself, she couldn't help but notice every facet about him. His eyes, his nose, his face. The way his mouth curved, the faint scar at his temple where his eyebrow ended.

His black hair gleamed under the ballroom lights, cut short and neat. He had a rugged power that captivated her in ways that got to her. Why he did this she could only speculate…and she didn't like the answer.

He was her best fantasy come true.

There was something about him that drew her interest, sparked the sexual desire in her that could lead to poor judgment.

Eventually, when she was ready to be in a relationship, she wanted a good sex life and, in fact, thought more about it at her age than she had in her twenties or thirties. Maybe it was because she was settled in her early forties that she was willing to speak her mind now, willing to tell her partner exactly what