Turn My World Around

  “That’s an impressive feat. How’d you manage it?”

  “Laura’s from the west coast. The wedding was out there. It was over and done before I came home. And then the gossip factory seemed a lot more interested in my single status.”

  “And now they’re talking about your not single status.”

  “Damn skippy.” He walked her to the door. “I’m really proud of you.”

  Her lips curved. “I’m pretty damned proud of myself, as it happens. I don’t think we’re all going to magically be buddy buddy, but this was a step in the right direction.”

  “And Friday night’s performance will be the next. We’re going to tango our way to a win.”

  She raised her lips to his. “Damn skippy.”

  ~*~

  Tucker’s hands curved around Corinne’s hips. “Are you ready for this?”

  She leaned back into him, tipping her face toward his and keeping her voice low as they watched Tara and Daniel finish up their paso doble. “Ready to dance in front of half the town and God knows how many viewers online to the song we first made love to?”

  “It’ll keep us in the proper mood,” he murmured.

  “I’ve been in the proper mood for a week.” Not that she’d been able to get away long enough to act on it. What hours weren’t filled with work or rehearsals were bookended with Kurt and textbooks.

  “There’s time after this before you have to get home.”

  She opened her mouth to protest. With her NCLEX exam on Monday, she needed to spend every last second studying.

  “You’ll think more clearly without the sexual haze.”

  He was probably right. God knew she couldn’t concentrate when she got home from rehearsals because she was too busy imagining him naked.

  “We’ll see what time we get out of here.” Maybe she could steal a little time. As aroused as she was likely to be when this tango was over, it wouldn’t take much.

  From the ballroom proper, the emcee announced Tara and Daniel’s scores—straight nines from the judges.

  “Tough to beat,” Corinne said.

  “We can do it.”

  They awaited their signal from the competition staff, walking out at the emcee’s introduction and the audience’s applause. Corinne ignored them all, keeping all her focus on her partner as she took her position. The X Ambassadors’ lead singer began to croon the opening bars to “Unsteady” and her heart began to beat slow and thick against her breast. The ballroom, their audience, all of it melted away as Tucker lifted and spun, dragging her across the floor. They flowed into the dance, one mind, one desire. The scent of him stoked her senses, the feel of his hands fired her blood. And as the music faded, she was left only with want, her mouth a breath from his.

  As the crowd cheered, Tucker said, “Come home with me tonight.”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  The emcee’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Wowza! Tucker and Corinne, Team Dinner Belles, ladies and gentlemen. If you haven’t already put in your bet in the pool, I’d say that ship has sailed.”

  They pried themselves apart and turned, hand-in-hand, to face the dais.

  “Let’s see what the judges’ scores are for that stupendous Argentine tango.”

  The first paddle went up. “Nine.” The second paddle. “Ten! Our first ten of the night. And the final score?” The last paddle rose. “Another ten! Ladies and gentlemen, give Team Dinner Belles a round of applause for a fantastic performance.”

  Tucker whooped and Corinne found herself tugged into a fierce celebratory kiss. The crowd went nuts. Corinne’s head was still spinning as he released her to wave at the audience, towing her off the floor. His friends were waiting, offering high fives and congratulations to them both. And amid all the hubbub, she saw Malika fighting toward her. She’d hardly spent any time with her friend since the start of the competition.

  “Be back,” she told Tucker, and wove her way through the crowd.

  “Girl, that was amazing!” Malika wrapped her in a tight hug. “I been watching online up to now, but da-yum—emphasis on the yum. Please tell me you’re keepin’ him.”

  Corinne laughed. “Seems I am.”

  “I knew he was into you! Good for you. Mama Pearl was right. You absolutely needed some fun.” She almost had to shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd during the brief intermission.

  “Come on. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

  They left the ballroom.

  “It’s so good to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t been available to study more.”

  “It’s okay. I can study on my own just fine. What about you? Have you actually had time to do much?”

  Wincing, Corinne admitted, “Not as much as I’d like. But then, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like any amount of studying is enough until the test is over.”

  “Three more days.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Malika mimed zipping her lips. “So how is the hottie lawyer?”

  “He’s fine. Pumped about our scores. They’re our first tens.”

  The other woman rolled her eyes. “No, how is he?” She added an eyebrow waggled for clarification.

  Blood heated Corinne’s cheeks. “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

  “Come on now, I’m ridin’ the single train at the moment. Have some pity and spill.”

  She wasn’t ready to share all the amazing details of her night with Tucker. Before she could think of some way to deflect, Corinne caught sight of Whitney being dragged across the lobby from the ballroom. The man who had her arm in a vice grip was more than a head taller and twice as broad as her. Whitney struggled to keep up with his longer strides, stumbling on her heels. Corinne was moving before she realized, trailing the couple down the corridor toward the bathrooms.

  Malika fell into step beside her. “Oh, I get it. You want some more privacy.”

  “No, I... Something’s wrong.” Every inner alarm she had was blaring.

  Malika clued in to her tone, followed her gaze to the couple well ahead of them. “You know them?”

  “I know her.”

  They’d stopped at the far end of the hall, well away from the crowds. He had Whitney by both arms now, his head dropped close to hers. But there was nothing loving or romantic about the gesture. Whitney’s face twisted with pain and no small amount of fear. The man, presumably her husband Garrett, said something in a low, menacing tone.

  “I...I’m sorry. I won’t—”

  “Is everything okay here?” Corinne demanded.

  Both of them shifted their attention to her. And she suddenly remembered Garrett Harrington. He’d been a few years ahead of them in school, one of the golden boys of Wishful High Athletics. He’d gone on to college on a football scholarship. Those big hands were still curled around Whitney’s arms, hard enough to bruise.

  Surprise and embarrassment flickered over Whitney’s face. “Everything’s fine.”

  “This is no concern of yours,” Garrett said.

  Remembering how it felt being caught in such a punishing grip, Corinne fisted her own hands and took a step closer, conscious of Malika flanking her. “Take your hands off her.”

  Garrett released Whitney at once, lifting his hands palm up in the universal gesture of mean no harm. She saw the mask slip into place, the genial guy everyone liked, hiding the monster beneath. “There’s no problem here. Is there, honey?”

  “No problem,” Whitney repeated dutifully. “I’ll be right along home as soon as the competition is over for the night.”

  That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Garrett’s face rippled as he tried to control his reaction in front of an audience. “I thought you’d ride with me.”

  “No sense in that. My car’s here. We’d just have to come back and get it later, and you’ve got too much going on tomorrow to have to mess with it.” Placate. De-escalate.

  Clearly sensing he’d lost this battle for the moment, Garrett nodded. “Right after the competition is done. I n
eed your help packing.”

  “Of course. It sounds like the next performance is starting now, so it shouldn’t be long.”

  Faint sounds of the emcee rousing the crowd floated down the hall.

  With one last look at his wife, Garrett plastered on a smile that might pass as charming to those who didn’t know better and headed toward the lobby.

  Silent, Corinne watched him go, not relaxing until he’d rounded the corner.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Whitney demanded.

  Corinne turned back to her. “He was hurting you.”

  “Why on Earth should you care?”

  “No man has the right to manhandle his wife.”

  “He wasn’t manhandling me.”

  “Then why are you wearing long sleeves in August?”

  Whitney reflexively reached for her forearm, before she fixed her sneer back in place. “Oh, because you’re in such a position to be handing out fashion advice.”

  “Lashing out at me is not going to work, Whitney. I know his type. You don’t have to stay with him.”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “He’s a bully. And if he hasn’t escalated to full on violence yet, he will. Let me help you.” Corinne stepped toward her.

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Look, Whitney, I know we have a bad history but trust me when I say—”

  “Trust you? Trust you? Why the hell would I make that mistake again? I trusted you once, and you turned on me. You were hateful and horrible, tearing me down at every turn, exactly like your mother.”

  The words hit Corinne like a blow, so hard she almost stumbled back. Like her mother?

  “You act all innocent and contrite now that you’re back, but nobody believes it. You’re still the same vicious harpy you were in high school. And one of these days, Tucker will figure it out and drop you, exactly like you deserve. You’re not worth his time.”

  “Look, lady—” Malika started, but Corinne put a hand on her arm.

  Reeling, she struggled to find the right words to salvage whatever she could of this situation. “You don’t have to get help from me. You don’t ever have to speak to me again, Whitney. But get help from someone. Before it’s too late.”

  Whitney squinted at her as if trying to reconcile the woman standing in front of her with the girl she remembered. Then, without another word, she turned and fled.

  Malika laid a hand on Corinne’s arm. “Honey, are you okay?”

  Abuse always started somewhere. Not fighting back was a learned behavior. And for Whitney, it had started in high school, with Corrine. She’d done this. She’d made her former friend into this. Into a woman who was too afraid to fight, too afraid to leave. This was on her.

  Heartsick, horrified, Corinne said, “I need to find Tucker.”

  Chapter 14

  As Tyler and Cam took the floor for their rumba, Tucker looked around for Corinne. She’d gone off with Malika quite a while ago. Maybe they’d gotten caught up talking test or catching up, but it seemed odd that she’d miss this last performance. They usually preferred to deconstruct their competition’s performance after the fact.

  Beside him, Myles leaned in. “You know, the Babylon has a pretty epic romance package.”

  Tucker arched a brow.

  “I’m just sayin’. Eliminating the drive saves some time.” He only grinned as Tucker glared at him.

  “He’s not wrong,” Piper added, not taking her eyes off Tyler and Cam.

  “I really don’t need to hear about your honeymoon,” Tucker said. But now that the idea had been planted, it began to take root. They wouldn’t have all night—he knew that—but if he could get a room, have the hotel set something up while they finished up down here, he could give Corinne some romance. She’d had little enough of that. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Champagne, some music, maybe flowers. And maybe he could sweet talk her into trying out the swank bathroom with a bubble bath or shower for two. Either way, it’d be some pampering she wouldn’t get otherwise.

  As the judges raised their paddles—two tens and a nine, exactly as he and Corinne had earned—Tucker slipped away to the front desk. The desk clerk, Jenny, had a gooshy, romantic heart and put a rush on things, assuring him everything could be ready in fifteen minutes. Tucker slipped the key card into his pocket and went in search of his lady.

  It took nearly the full fifteen minutes to find her amid the mass exodus of the audience. She and her friend were in the staging area. Catching sight of him, the unusually serious Malika pointed in his direction. Corinne turned. The corners of her mouth tipped up, but there was something wrong with her smile.

  Tucker hurried over, sliding an arm around her. “I was starting to think I’d lost you.”

  She leaned into him, and that quieted the alarm that had begun to sound when he’d seen her. “Just been talking about the test. Three days left. Less, really. Today’s mostly over.”

  He rubbed at the tension knotted in her shoulders. That hadn’t been there during their performance. First order of business up in the room would be easing the stiffness out of her.

  “You’ll do great. You’ve been studying your butt off for weeks.”

  “Y’all did great tonight,” Malika told him.

  “We did, thanks,” Tucker agreed with a grin. “Helps to have an amazing partner.”

  Her dark eyes flicked from him to Corinne and back again.

  Something there.

  “You take good care of her now, you hear?”

  The spurt of protectiveness from her friend pleased him. Corinne needed someone looking out for her besides him. “Oh, you can count on it.”

  Evidently satisfied with his answer, Malika gave Corinne another quick hug and made her farewells.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Her tone was off, and she didn’t quite look at him.

  “Corinne? You okay?”

  She mustered another of those not quite right smiles. “Tired. All the adrenaline’s worn off.”

  “Well, I’ve got just the thing to help with that. A little surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?”

  Instead of answering, he ushered her across the lobby. He’d debated whether she’d worry about being seen getting into the elevator with him, but ultimately decided to save them both the effort of climbing four flights of stairs. They stepped into the car, and he pushed the button for the correct floor.

  As the doors slid shut she asked, “We’re not going up to the roof?”

  “Nope.”

  Corinne frowned. “What are you up to?”

  “You’ll see.” Yeah, she absolutely needed to relax. She’d sleep better and be able to focus more when she settled in to study tomorrow.

  She stayed silent as they stepped into the plush and silent hall. Something was off with her mood, but her hand still held tight to his as he led her to the room. Was she nervous about this? Worried about being with him again?

  Tucker slid the key into the slot and opened the door. “Milady.”

  She took a few hesitant steps inside, not letting go of his hand. He followed, kicking the door shut behind them. Jenny had been as good as her word. A bucket of champagne chilled to the side of the massive king size bed. Two plush bathrobes were laid out on the bedspread, and the whole thing was accented by a scatter of red rose petals.

  “What is this?”

  “Your surprise.”

  “Tucker—”

  “I know you can’t stay the night. But you can absolutely do with some pampering. Champagne. A bubble bath for two. My bathroom’s not big enough, and I think you need to relax for an hour or two.” Longer, if he could coax her. As it was a performance night, she wasn’t expected home for bedtime tuck in.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Tucker drew her in, cupping her head and bringing her lips to his. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  Her stiff posture relaxed, degree-
by-degree, as he kissed her, slow and deep.

  Better, he thought, and slid his hands down the length of her spine, fingers probing for a zipper on her dress. Failing to find one, he broke off. “Did Babette paint this thing on you?”

  “I—it’s a side zipper.” She stepped back, turning away toward the champagne bucket and reaching for the bottle.

  Reminding himself to slow down, even if they did only have an hour or two, he took the bottle from her and popped the cork, pouring into the two waiting flutes. He handed her one. Before he could lift his in a toast, she’d drained hers.

  Okay, something was definitely wrong.

  Tucker set his glass aside and reached for her, gently tugging her toward him. “You’re upset about something.”

  Corinne looked down at his hands on her forearms. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  When she looked up, her eyes were sheened with tears. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  “It’s okay. I just sprang this on you without asking. I can take you on home. We’ll do this some other time. It’s not a big deal.” He reached out to stroke her cheek and she flinched back.

  “No not all this. I’m sorry about all this, too. That makes it worse.”

  “Makes what worse? Corinne, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She stepped fully back from him, squaring her shoulders. “I can’t do this. Us. This is over. We’re over.”

  “What? Why?” He took a step toward her, arm outstretched, and she evaded in a move so instinctive, it left him cold.

  “I just can’t.”

  “That’s not an answer, Corinne. You were fine forty-five minutes ago. We were on the same page. What the hell happened between then and now? Did Malika say something to you?” He couldn’t imagine what, but who else had she seen?

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not—I... This has to be finished, Tucker. It just has to. I’m sorry.”

  Without another word, she turned and fled.

  “Corinne!” Tucker started after her.

  “Don’t!” The panic in her voice stopped him. “Just don’t.”

  So he let her go. As the door snicked shut behind her, he reached for the open bottle of champagne, tipping it up for a long pull and wondering exactly how things had gone so sideways on one of the best nights of his life.