Rafe had stepped up beside her and linked his hand with hers. He gave her a quick squeeze of encouragement.
“Can we both scoot out of the tent the way you came in?” she whispered.
He shook his head, watching the crowd warily. “No time. They’d be on us in a flash.”
“Can you shoot our way out of here?”
Again, he shook his head. “Too many of them. No, we have to divert them.”
“How?”
She saw several men in the front pull out their revolvers, and the man who appeared to be the owner stood nearby wringing his hands. “Damn, they’re gonna tear my tent apart any minute now,” he whined.
Helen sliced the weasel a look of contempt. No concern for their safety. Just his private property.
“Can you dance?” Rafe asked suddenly.
“Wh-what? Now? You must be drunk.”
“Not nearly enough, sweetheart,” he said, and asked the band to play a Mexican tune she didn’t recognize. The band was rotten, but the song carried a sultry Spanish beat.
He began to circle her body in a slow, seductive rhythm. Hips swaying, fingers snapping, he eyed her like a virile predator, ready to pounce.
She backed up slightly.
Their audience hooted with laughter, considering it a well-planned act.
Rafe held her eyes and motioned with the crooked fingers of both hands, beckoning her closer.
She stood frozen. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
Rafe held open his arms for her.
“I can’t do this,” she protested weakly, even as she stepped reluctantly into his embrace. “Really. I’m not a good dancer.”
“Honey, these men could care diddlysquat about the quality of your dancing. Besides, the kind of dancing we’re going to do will bring the house down.”
He pulled her brusquely into his arms and looped her arms around his neck. He placed both of his hands firmly on either side of her waist.
She eyed him suspiciously. “And what kind of dancing would that be?”
“The lambada.”
He drew her close. Very close. Breasts pressed against his chest. Her stomach rested against his groin. Catching the slow rhythm, Rafe began to sway, then undulate his hips with hers.
The crowd stilled.
“Arriba!” one of the Mexican musicians called out and made a loud trilling noise with his tongue. She had no time to think about that, though. It was Rafe she was worried about.
“What kind of dance did you say?” she choked out.
“The lambada. The forbidden dance.”
“Wh-what’s that? I never heard of it.”
“It’s just like…” Rafe smiled. “… dirty dancing.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Just pretend we’re making love.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said in a suffocated whisper.
“The lambada… It’s like making love without penetration. Relax and let your body speak for you.”
Making love without penetration? Oh, my!
They were swaying from side to side, slowly. Hmmm. She’d never had much time for dancing, but this was really kind of nice. Sway and turn. Sway and turn.
“I think I’ve got the hang of it,” she said.
“Good. Now for some real lambada.”
“What? Ooomph. Stop that.”
He bent her over backward so that her upper body was flung over his arm and her breasts were arched up in a provocative pose. She had no choice but to clutch his upper arms or risk falling to the floor.
The crowd went wild with cheers of encouragement.
“Arriba!” the Mexican guitarist yelled out, as he had earlier, following it with the yipping noise.
“What… are… you… doing? ” she asked Rafe in a strangled voice.
“Dipping. Geez, Louise! Haven’t you ever dipped before, Helen?” The jerk was laughing at her.
“Undip me. Right now,” she demanded.
He grinned and yanked her upright without missing a beat of the dance rhythm. Once they straightened and were back in the traditional slow-dance posture again, she protested, “Rafe, let’s just get out of here. It’s obvious that I’m no good at dancing.”
“I don’t hear anyone complaining.”
In fact, the prospectors were stamping their feet and clapping, enjoying the spectacle immensely. And the Mexican musician kept repeating that stupid “Arriba!” yell. Helen felt like she’d fallen into a bad movie script.
“Besides, we can’t leave yet,” Rafe told her hurriedly, in between two more deep dips. “I met Henry and his cousin outside. They agreed to get our stuff from the hotel and bring the horses. They’ll signal with two whistles out back when they’re ready.”