The Bachelor's Cinderella: The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project. Trish Wylie
that I took? You’re talking about a woman who couldn’t even master the basics of how to fall gracefully.”
Etienne grinned. “I’m not going to let you fall, Meg.”
She smiled back at him. “Okay, but I can’t imagine why this would be an essential skill. Will we be dancing in France?”
He didn’t want to lie to her. “Definitely.” He would make very sure of that. Especially since what was needed right now was some dancing, some levity, a release of the tension they’d all been subjected to.
“Where should we go?”
He grinned. “The outer office.”
“In front of everyone?”
“They can dance, too.”
She put her head back and laughed at that. “Oh, they’re going to love that. Somehow I don’t think that I can simply tell everyone that we’re expanding their job descriptions again.”
“Don’t worry, Meg,” Etienne whispered. “Just tell them that we’re having recess. Tell them that it will help you. They’ll do anything you ask.”
“They’ll do anything you ask, too.”
He raised a brow.
“Really,” she said. “You may not have noticed but they’ve latched on to you as one of their own. They trust you now.”
Which made Etienne more than a little nervous. No matter what Meg said, he was responsible for this company, for her and for what happened at that expo. Betray Meg or fail the company and he would be destroying lives. Again.
“So, you think they won’t report me to the labor union if I ask them to tango?”
“As long as you remove the thorns from the roses they hold in their teeth, I think they’ll be amused by the diversion.”
But, of course, it wasn’t that simple.
“We need music,” Meg said, “and something to play it on.”
After an announcement and a quick search, it just so happened that Jeff had a portable MP3 player in his car with some tiny speakers that would plug into it.
“Sometimes I like to go to the park at lunch,” he explained. “You may not like my taste in music, though.”
Jeff’s taste in music ranged from hip hop to jazz with a little rock thrown in. Trying to find something that a person could ballroom dance to was a challenge, but Harold managed to locate some slow love songs. “Ooh, this one sounds hot!” Harold said, which made Jeff’s ears turn red.
“I don’t know how that got there,” he said.
Etienne chuckled. “Just keep repeating that, my friend,” he said. “Not that anyone will believe it.”
“Jeff, it’s a really nice song,” Meg argued. “You play that when you have a woman with you and I guarantee she’ll melt.”
Which made Etienne sit up and take notice. He wanted Meg to melt for him.
But, of course, that wasn’t what he was supposed to be thinking about. “Let’s get some space,” he directed. Together everyone pushed the desks out of the way.
Then he turned to see a small sea of expectant faces turned his way. “Partner up,” he directed. “Grab the person next to you, no matter what sex. We’ll switch for the next song.”
There was some giggling as people paired up with colleagues.
“We’ll begin with a simple waltz. If you haven’t done much of this before, then this is how the dance proceeds. You place your hand on her, or his, waist like this,” Etienne said, and he slowly slid his palm around Meg’s waist.
Immediately he was aware of her softness, how she fit him and how his heart pounded when he stared down into her eyes. “She places her hand on your shoulder. And then you take her hand in yours,” he said, his voice thick in his own ears.
As he called out instructions, Jeff started the music and the group began to move, but Etienne was only aware of Meg, of looking into her eyes, of twirling with her around the floor.
“You’re very good,” she said, her voice so soft he nearly had to lean close to hear.
“Years of practice. It’s second nature.” But it wasn’t. Not with her. The waltz had never seemed so exhilarating, so meaningful, so short.
The music ended. “Switch,” Jeff said, and he headed straight toward Meg.
Etienne’s hand tightened on hers for a second, but then he released her, ceding his place to the other man. The one who would stay. Etienne hadn’t failed to notice Jeff’s interest in Meg. She might find happiness with him.
But not yet. Not today.
Etienne led them through a series of mini lessons in various ballroom dances, but when they came to the tango he claimed Meg as his own again.
“Last one,” he said. “And for this one, Meg is mine.”
He looked up into Jeff’s stubborn eyes and felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Also a trace of guilt. He had seniority here and it wasn’t fair to pull rank.
But he did it anyway. “There might be dancing in Paris,” he explained to the man, even though he was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be an opportunity for anything quite like this. He just wanted the chance to dance with her, to be with her.
He pulled her into his arms, swirled her into the dance.
Meg was obviously new to the dance; she was awkward, very self-conscious and totally charming. “If I step on your feet you’ll forgive me, won’t you?” she asked. “And not yell out too loud?”
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