Moving slowly and gracefully, Darcy swayed to the music.
Her hips rolling, Darcyâs arms traced patterns in the air. The exotic music, the sparkle of sequins and shimmer of silkâeven the faint incense scent of the air around himâworked a spell on Mike. He felt as if heâd plummeted through a trapdoor from his everyday life to this erotic new world.
Darcy twirled a veil around her, hiding behind it, then revealing the curve of her hip, the smooth paleness of her bare back, the gentle roundness of her belly, the swell of cleavage above the sequined bra top.
Mikeâs heart pounded and he had trouble breathing, but he made no attempt to turn away.
Dear Reader,
Three and a half years ago I took a belly dancing class. I was looking for some form of exercise that would be fun. The class was fun, all right. So fun Iâve been dancing ever since.
Though the characters in this book have no connection to the women Iâve met through my dancing classes, it was a lot of fun to write a story that combines my love of dancing, family and romance.
Life is full of little miracles, and organ transplant is certainly one of those. If youâd like to know more about organ and tissue donation, visit www.organdonor.gov.
I hope youâll enjoy Darcy and Mikeâs story. I always enjoy hearing from my readers. You can e-mail me at [email protected] or through my website www.cindimyers.com.
Cindi Myers
WHAT WAS I thinking? Darcy OâConnor fought down butterflies as she looked out over the dance studio filled with eight preteen girls whoâd signed up for the Belly Dancing for Girlz class. The normally tranquil room had been transformed into a scene of chaos. Dressed in everything from blue jeans and T-shirts to ballet leotards, the girls, ranging in age from nine to eleven, took turns preening and posing in the full-length mirrors lining one wall, draping themselves in the various scarves and costumes that hung around the rest of the room, all talking at once.
Darcy had taught dozens, even hundreds, of women to dance in her four years as a belly dance instructor, but sheâd never attempted a class just for girls. When sheâd come up with the idea, sheâd thought of it as a good way to make children part of her life, but now she wondered if she was really ready for this.
âMy aunt Candace took a pole dancing class last summer. Is this anything like that?â
âWe saw belly dancers at the Renaissance Festival. My dad stuck a dollar in one of the dancerâs bras and my mom got mad.â
âI want to dance like Shakira. How long will it take you to teach me to do that?â
âGirls, girls!â Darcy held up her hands. âIâll answer your questions as we go along, but right now letâs get started. First, letâs line up in rows. Everybody stand where you can see yourself in the mirror.â
She moved one of the taller girls, Debby, into the back row, and called forward the smallest of her new students, a delicate child with large brown eyes and a mass of dark brown hair. âSweetie, you come up here on the front row. Whatâs your name, again?â
âTaylor,â the girl said eagerly. She grinned up at Darcy.
âTaylor, you stand next to me. Hannah, you come up on my other side.â Darcy surveyed the neat double line of girls in the mirror and felt more in control of the situation. âThatâs better. Now we can start.â She pressed the play button on the remote for the stereo and the first notes of a pop number filled the room. âThe first thing weâre going to learn is to move our hips from side to side, while the upper part of our bodies stays still.â
âMy brother says I canât learn to shake my hips because I donât have hips yet,â one of the girls, Zoe, volunteered.
âYou do too have hips,â Kira protested. âEverybody has hips.â
âBrothers are just that way,â Debby said. âOnce mine told meââ
âNow letâs try making a circle with our hips,â Darcy said, recalling the girlsâ attention.
âWhatâs this move called?â Liz asked.
âIs it okay if my circle is more of an oval?â Taylor asked.
Darcy smiled to herself. Yes, this class was going to be a challenge, but maybe a challenge was exactly what she needed. âAll right, girls. See if you can do this next move. I want everyone to be quiet and listen to the music. Think about how the music makes you feel.â
The soaring notes of an Egyptian mizmar filled the air, accompanied by a pounding drumbeat. The music vibrated up through the soles of Darcyâs bare feet, soothing her like the caress of a friend. She hoped the girls felt it, too. She wanted to pass on to them more than the mere mechanics of movement.