The Wicked Waltz
©2007 Nia Little

Lonely, unloved and neglected wife, Maggie Pearce finds companionship in her ballroom dancing lessons and an Internet fan group for unknown actor John Harrison. When a chance encounter at a movie premiere brings her into the arms of that actor, her whole world is turned upside down. Spending the evening talking and dancing with him, she comes to feel there’s a connection between them, and when he kisses her goodnight, it seems he feels the same way. But fate parts them and she has to return to her husband and her real life, leaving the dream behind. Months later, she still can’t get John Harrison off her mind, and is stunned when he shows up in her town and sweeps her off her feet again on the dance floor, his closeness and eyes telling her without words that he wants her. He stirs passion and fire in her like she hasn’t felt in years, and she wants nothing more than to surrender to her desire to be with him too. Will her feelings for John give her the strength to end her miserable marriage? And what of John’s commitment to a French actress? Are Maggie and John truly soul mates linked through time—or is it just the effect of The Wicked Waltz?

*Available as an e book only through Alinar Publishing*



Multiple ebook formats from Alinar Publishing may be purchased through Fictionwise

~Five Cup Review by Coffee Time Romance~
"Ms. Little pens contemporary romance as it should be... A book that has such realistic characters and plot is definitely a keeper for this reader!!"


EXCERPT

[John Harrison has arrived with his companion, Brigitte DuBois and other actors to film a movie where Maggie Pearce lives unhappily with her husband. A twist of fate and a spilled drink in a nightclub has brought them together once again.]

John watched as the groups got busy moving chairs and tables, purses and drinks. He slipped away, unnoticed.
“Hey man.” The DJ looked up and grinned. “You signing up for the dance-off? Starts in twenty minutes.”
“I beg your pardon, what?”
The DJ chuckled. “Oh ho! Brit boy, huh? Well, tonight’s the ballroom dancing competition. You know—like ‘Dancing With The Stars?’ Valentine’s Day competition, five dances. Waltz, samba, foxtrot, rhumba, and jive. Winners get a weekend package for right here, whenever you want to use it within the year, everything included—two nights in a suite, gourmet dinner, golf, whole day spa with the works. It’s thirty bucks to enter.”
“Uh, no. I’m semi-professional, wouldn’t be fair, then would it? I was only hoping to request a song.” John raised his brows. “Perhaps you could play it before the contest?”
“Gee, buddy, I dunno.” The DJ shrugged, tilting his head—and extended his open palm across the board.
Minutes later, John slid into the seat next to Michael as Maggie returned.
They formed a raucous group. Stories flowed and laughter echoed. The waitress nearly ran bringing drinks. Tom's numerous golf jokes vied with Nick's Irish blarney. Brigitte and GD Barbie hit it off well, comparing shoe designer favorites. Michael had a drinking game going, too, and Husband even seemed to be enjoying himself.
Maggie glanced shyly at John to see him smiling at her with a raised eyebrow. Then she heard the beginning strains of Seal’s “Kiss From A Rose,” and felt her heart leap into her throat.
John turned to Husband. “May I dance with your wife?”
“What?” Husband peered drunkenly across the table. “Yeah, sure, knock yourself out.”
John nodded to Maggie and rose to pull her chair out for her. They didn’t speak. Two couples were bravely waltzing, counting their steps. He followed her through the maze of tables. She looked wonderful in that dress—the way she moved made it swirl around her. Cut with just a hint of cleavage, tantalizing without being risqué, John decided. She wore a delicate silver necklace, small silver earrings, simple high heeled pumps. Classy, marvelous, elegant.
“I don’t believe you,” Maggie said as they stepped onto the dance floor. “You remembered the song we danced to.”
“Of course I did,” John replied. “I remember everything; think on it all the time. You look absolutely lovely tonight, Maggie, the most beautiful woman here.” He slid his right hand to her waist, took her right hand in his left and looked down into her eyes.
Maggie couldn’t breathe. Admiration and desire blazed from his eyes to ignite in her heart. His cologne teased her nostrils and she felt her breasts respond. She turned her head to gaze demurely along her left elbow held high in proper ballroom stance, grateful he couldn’t see the blatant want that filled her now. His hands were so long that his fingers reached to the small of her back around the top of her hip, and she could feel the heat from his palm through her dress.
They stepped into the dance and reality faded. Swayed and suspended by the music, they became perfect storytellers in a tale of ethereal love. John led her slowly into larger twirls and slides, pausing, bending, leaning at all the right moments in the lyrics for dramatic effect. Maggie trusted him wholeheartedly, surrendered herself into his guiding hands. At the chorus’ crescendo they whirled rapidly, gliding on air above the floor, only to slow and end in a deep backward dip with the last fading note.
They hadn't spoken since they began, yet each had anticipated the other’s moves. They hadn't paid attention to anyone else, hadn’t realized the dance floor had emptied to give them all the room they needed. As the song finished, wild applause startled them both, woke them from their trance, suddenly alert to how watched they’d been.
He started to escort her back to the table as she blushed.
"John, I'm so sorry," she said, "I never meant to put you on display like that."
What a contrast, he thought. "No, no. I’m the one who should apologize," he said. "Your husband—will he be angry?"
"It's just a dance—"
“Is it?” He looked into her eyes as she had to turn toward him to navigate a chair, letting her see that for him it could be more, if she wished.
And oh she wished, he could tell. But—
"It has to be. I’m married. And you aren’t free, either.”
The sadness in her eyes wrenched his insides. “No,” he said, gently squeezing her hand before letting go as they approached the group. Everyone in the club stood applauding.
Brigitte’s forced smile would have terrified a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
“All right!” The DJ’s voice boomed through the sound system. “Folks, you’ll be relieved to know they didn’t sign up for the contest, but there’s the bar to aim for. Contestants to the floor.”
“You really were going to ballroom dance classes.” Husband hiccupped at Maggie. “Didn’t know you could move without falling off your shoes. Kind of a waste though; I don’t dance.” He took Maggie’s hand and squeezed so hard her fingers cracked. “Time to go home, isn’t it, Dearie?”
“I suppose it is.” Maggie pulled her hand away. “Nice to meet you all. I hope you enjoy your stay here.” She waited as Husband stood. “I’ll just stop at the ladies’ on the way out if you don’t mind.”
Maggie gasped when she emerged from the stall. Nick waited for her at the sink of the ladies’ room. “Oh find the wrong one, did I?” he slurred. “Happens now and again. New place, doncha know,” he said, bending down to look for feet. “Hard to read the doors, you see.” Satisfied no others were near, he pulled Maggie closer and pressed a slip of paper into her hand. His voice held no sign of drunkenness now. “Call him at this number. That’s my mobile, by the way, not his. I don’t normally deal in sordid matters of the heart, but he’s my friend. Someone’s got to save him from disaster with that Frog.”
“But this isn’t right—”
Bright blue eyes looked into hers. “He’s miserable. And you’re no picture of contentment with that Dick, either. What’s ‘right’ about that? Leave a message when and where it’s safe for you to meet unseen. To talk, mind. Just talk.” He stepped back and winked. “Pretend I startled you.”
Maggie blinked rapidly to hold back happy tears as she yelled. “Hey! What are you doing in here? This is the Ladies’ Room.”
Nick grinned and turned to stumble out the door. “Sorry, sorry, lass,” he sang loudly. “’Twas just a wee bit o’ the Irish, though ’tis easily mistaken for a python.”
Maggie waited a moment, trying to get her emotions under control. Could she trust her gut, the magic of that delightfully wicked waltz? Was this attraction, this pull between them enough to move her past the fear of losing everything she had with Husband to end this farce of a marriage and start anew?
Or had it truly been just a dance?