The Dance Read Online Free PDF Page B

was just thinking about something.”
    â€œAbout me?” she teased.
    â€œYes, if you have to know. I was thinking I didn’t get a hello kiss back there. Now that Hank has so cleverly left us alone, I’ll take advantage. I think I like that girl.”
    â€œWhoa, should I be jealous?” Mel turned her face up for Bryan’s kiss.
    Bryan held her for an extra minute, then said, “We probably shouldn’t keep them waiting.” He tucked a strand of Melanie’s hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek lightly with his fingers.
    â€œI think they’ll understand,” Melanie said, but she whirled away and skidded toward the neon-lighted doorway. The C in Calloni’s popped and fizzed as if it were on the verge of self-destructing.
    A blast of warm air hit them when they entered the restaurant, along with the buzz of voices and the clink of glasses. The front of the restaurant was a bar, but it stepped down into two dim rooms of booths and tables. Bryan could have predicted the red-checkered tablecloths, the candles in straw-covered bottles, and the plastic roses. But if the decor left nothing to the imagination, the smell coming from the kitchen made up for it.
    â€œ Bella, bella, ” Seth called to Melanie from the booth he and Hank had found. “Room for one more beautiful woman here.”
    â€œHow about Bryan?” Melanie pretended to look sad.
    â€œHe can find his own bevy of beauties. I don’t know what he did to deserve you, anyway.” Seth jumped up and pretended to seat Melanie.
    I don’t know either, Bryan reminded himself. Half the senior guys in Bellponte would jump at the chance to date her. A lot of them had told him so.
    â€œGo stick your head in the tomato sauce, Rubens.” Bryan pushed Seth gently aside and slid in beside Melanie. “Just because no woman will look at you—”
    â€œHey, they look, they look. They just know they wouldn’t meet my high standards.”
    â€œHow high are they?” Hank grabbed four menus from behind the napkin holder and passed them around.
    Seth stared at Hank and squinted his dark eyes. He folded his arms and pretended he was calculating. “Ummm, about five feet five—maybe six.”
    â€œSix.” Hank flipped open the laminated menu. “The pizza is molto bene . I can recommend it highly. But for an even greater pasta experience, their cannelloni al Giogio are incredible.” She leaned forward with a serious look on her face and whispered. “Someone told me the Mafia bosses all leave requests in their burial orders that an order of George’s cannelloni be included in their coffins.”
    â€œWith tux shirts and bow ties? Sounds kind of messy, if you ask me.” Seth ran his finger over the menu.
    The foursome laughed, then quieted to the task of ordering dinner, deciding to get both the pizza and the cannelloni and share.
    â€œThere goes my girlish figure,” Hank moaned. “Frau Vodka will have to let out my costume again.
    â€œFrau Vodka?” Bryan asked.
    â€œVoska—Mother Germany,” Mel explained. “You remember. Your favorite shopkeeper, the one who wouldn’t let you play with her swords and knives.”
    â€œOh, her. I wondered what her purpose in life was.” Bryan leaned back, pulling Melanie with him. He circled her shoulders with his arm, willing her to forgive him for hurting her feelings when she’d been so excited. The way she snuggled closer made him think she had.
    â€œIf she points that stick at me one more time, I’m going to ask for police protection.” Hank tried to square her jaw to imitate Frau Voska’s stern demeanor.
    â€œYou make me feel I’m missing something by not meeting this woman.” Seth exaggerated a sad look.
    â€œTo know her is to luff her.” Bryan imitated Voska’s accent badly. “Picture a German tank dressed in a black dress and