Dancing in the Dark by Linda Cajio Page A

continually, feel his arms around her, his body taut under her hands. The scent of cologne and man lingered far too long in her senses, and wisps of his voice, low and sensual, were constantly in her ears.
    And if she were completely honest with herself, she’d have to admit she was giving him mixed signals. That was because he made her feel so mixed up inside.
    The doorbell rang. Charity blinked, then glanced down at the chicken she’d been cutting up. It was reduced to small chunks.
    “I guess it’s stir-fry for the rest of the week,” she murmured, shaking her head. Her great bargain wasa disaster. She washed her hands and, wiping them dry, went to answer the door.
    Aggravation from Hell stood on the other side of the threshold. Trepidation shot through her as she wondered if all her thoughts had “called” him there.
    “Help” he said, though she thought he looked more bemused than frantic.
    “You and my chicken. Go home, Jake.”
    “Charity, you’re the only sane person in this town. I think I’ve got a problem.”
    “I’m not sane,” she said. “I’m standing here talking to you, aren’t I?”
    “Dammit, woman. I need to talk to someone who uses some sense.”
    She sighed, but didn’t open her door wider. First, she didn’t trust herself. He looked too good in casual clothes. The white rugby shirt clung to his torso, emphasizing the long line of his body. There should be a law against his wearing it. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did Gwen blow up the archive files?”
    “No. I had that meeting with the men today, remember?”
    “Oh, yes.” Charity leaned forward, suddenly intensely interested. “And?”
    “And I explained what I had explained to them before.” He shook his head. “Charity, they went from machismo to weeping jelly in five minutes.”
    She snorted, trying to hold back her amusement. It didn’t work as she imagined Dave and the others bawling like a bunch of two-year-olds. Laughing helplessly, she clung to the door for support.
    “It’s not funny!” Jake snapped, pushing the door open and entering her apartment. “I was explaininghow fathers are not passing on their knowledge to their sons, this being the basis for what we’re missing in our lives. I was trying to emphasize that they needed to do that with their own children, to reverse the process. The next thing I know, they’ve got it all wrong and it’s a sins of my father free-for-all. Some of those guys wept worse than Scarlett O’Hara.”
    “Scarlett wasn’t a weeper.”
    “Whatever. I think I opened a can of worms.”
    “Think!” she exclaimed, laughing again. “I can’t wait to see what they do when you take them dancing in the woods!”
    As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she desperately wanted to call them back. He gaped at her.
    “Ahh …” She tried desperately to think of something that would cover up her blooper.
    “Ahhh what?” Jake asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “What do you know about dancing in the woods?”
    “I read
Iron John
?” she tried hopefully.
    “Buzz. Wrong. Try again.”
    “I saw it on TV?”
    “Sorry.” He stepped closer.
    She stepped back.
    “You saw me that night, didn’t you?” he demanded.
    “That’s an understatement,” she muttered.
    He turned the air blue with curses.
    “Now, Jake,” she said, hoping to calm him down. “You have to expect these things when you’re half a block from the center of town.”
    “I was not a half a block from the center of town!”
    “Two?” she suggested, grinning.
    “Was I really?” he asked sheepishly.
    She started laughing all over again.
    “Thanks a lot. I’m naked and you’re laughing. You do wonders for my ego.” His face turned red.
    The blush was unexpected. In fact, it was rather touching to see a man like Jake blush. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her amusement.
    “You never said a word,” he complained.
    “What could I say?” she asked, not quite looking at him. She’d