“Don’t look at your feet,” he said softly.

“They won’t know where to go unless I tell them,” she protested.

He chuckled. “Not true. Come on. Close your eyes and listen to the rhythm. Move to it. Dancing is more instinct than exercise. It’s art.”

“No, actually, art is what you go to museums to see.”

“A lot of that isn’t art at all. It’s insanity.”

She grinned. “That’s exactly what I told Tad when we went to the traveling art exhibit from Europe. Honestly, some of those paintings could have gotten the artists arrested only twenty years ago.”

“I know what you mean.” He turned her easily as the lazy tune played. “I don’t move with the times much, either. Our mother was old-fashioned. So are Brenda and I.”

“Brenda’s so nice,” she said.

“She loves dogs and cats,” he pointed out. “Animal people are usually nice. Besides, she gardens.”

“That’s almost a character reference,” Clancey laughed. “People who plant things and work in gardens are some of the nicest folks on earth.”

“They are.” He lifted his head and looked down into her pale eyes. “Now, see, you’re dancing very well indeed.”

She flushed. “Better than I used to. Thanks. For being patient, I mean.”

His fingers slid in between hers. “I’m always patient,” he murmured at her temple. His voice sounded like rich, smooth velvet and her heart ran wild in her chest.

“You...are not,” she returned, trying to regain her equilibrium. “You threaten to shoot printers.”

“I need to find that cop from Palo Verde and bring him up to our office.”

She looked up at him. “Hmm?”

“They had a soft drink machine that ate dollar bills and didn’t return money or soft drinks. So this officer accidentally hit it with a baseball bat several times.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Did they catch him?”

He nodded. “He told them it was a muscle spasm, but the judge didn’t buy it. The policeman had to replace the machine.”

“I hope the replacement was a better machine.”

He sighed. “Well, that’s the problem.”

“What is?”

“It was a better machine. It came with all these instructions about how to put the money in, and how to press the appropriate button. The same officer kept pushing the button for a chocolate bar and getting peanuts in return. After the sixth time, he pulled his service revolver and shot the machine.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh dear.”

“He lost his job and had to find something else to do with his life. I’m not sure his career choice is much better.”

“What’s he doing now?”

He pursed his lips. “Servicing soft drink machines.”

She laughed until tears stung her eyes. “Oh, the poor man!”