The Politics of Love (A Romantic Comedy) Read online

  The Politics of Love

  A Romantic Comedy

  by

  Ines Saint

  Published by ePublishing Works!

  www.epublishingworks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-947833-80-7

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  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright 2018 by Ines Saint All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Meet The Author

  Prologue

  July

  Chicago Summer Dance Festival

  Chicago Illinois

  Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera. Celia Cruz's powerful, husky voice sang out from the speakers as the live orchestra took a break. An eclectic crowd gathered on the unique, recycled milk carton dance floor, swaying as Celia's warm, sensual rendition of the popular Cuban song invited them to loosen their hips for the long night of salsa dancing ahead.

  The moon beamed shafts of light through the trees, casting shadows that seemed to dance along with the crowd. And though the city lights overwhelmed most of the stars above, an unrelenting few shone down.

  On one corner of the dance floor, Kayla Diaz sang along and unconsciously grooved to the music as she looked around for her older sister. They were there to support their good friend, Robbie, who'd just led that night's dance lesson.

  "How did your audition go?" an excited voice came up behind her. Kayla turned, smiled, and hugged her sister.

  "I think I did well. It almost scares me to say it out loud—you know how I always try to keep my feelings neutral. But they all wanted to talk to me afterward, and they seemed excited about my performance." Kayla held her breath, nervous energy flowing through her all over again.

  "You're anxious," Tania observed.

  "It's just... this orchestra suits me, they have a lot of public support, and they play the classics along with more modern fare. And I really want to come back home. It's painful to want something so much."

  "Relax!" Tania slowly began swiveling her hips to the music and grabbed Kayla's hands to try to get her to dance, too. "Did you spiccato and pizzicato and all that neat stuff?" she asked, and Kayla signaled a yes. "Then don't get worked up about it. You already gave it your all, and there's really nothing left to do but hope for the best, push it aside for a while, and dance."

  Kayla slowly breathed out. There was nothing more escapist than shutting your mind off and just losing yourself to music and dance. Gradually, she began to move, marking the beat of the conga drums with her shoulders. Tania smiled and gave her a look that said, there you go!

  "Guantanamera" began to wind down just as the live orchestra began their rendition of Tito Puente's "Ran Kan Kan." The primitive, pulsing beat of the conga combined with the scintillating sounds of the trumpets sent an energetic buzz through the crowd.

  Tania and Kayla looked at each other and smiled wide, their rhythm picking up, their individual styles creeping in. Though salsa was essentially a partnering dance, there were more than a few people on the dance floor with enough fancy legwork and body actions to dance solo when no partner could be found, and the night provided enough anonymity to throw your cares away.

  Old pros soon took to the floor, immediately carving out enough space to display their expertise. A few amateurs timidly looked on, swaying slightly, while other free spirits did what came naturally and let their bodies lead the way.

  People from all cultures, social classes, and backgrounds came to Chicago SummerDance. They were there to learn, have fun, and leave their troubles behind. People only looked at each other to share a smile or copy a step.

  Robbie soon found them, and they exchanged enthusiastic greetings before he had Tania go off to dance with a distinguished-looking older man who was just starting to learn to salsa. Robbie then had Kayla assist him in demonstrating a few hand juggles and double spins to couples nearby.

  * * *

  Jake Kelly stood just outside the dance floor, scanning the crowd. Grant Park's Spirit of Music Garden was living up to its name. Every single person there seemed to be lost in their own little world as if that particular corner of Chicago was theirs alone. The vibrant flowers along the adjoining paths complemented the swirl of colorful skirts on the dance floor, and with the exception of the dance teacher's occasional shout-outs, the night belonged to music and dancing. Even the warm, humid air, lightly spiced with the scent of roses, seemed to accentuate the sultry movements.

  The flare of a crimson skirt caught his attention, and he turned to see the subsequent flash of a shapely pair of legs. His eyes strayed to the dancer's hips, and he gazed at the rhythmic swivels and swerves.

  When he glanced up to see her face, he saw her expression was one of sweet abandon, as if being among so many people was almost the same as being alone and free. She spun around, he took in her soft curves, and his heartbeat sped up. Funny, because she wasn't his type. He preferred busty, tall, leggy women. But this young woman reminded Jake of an actress in an old movie his mother loved, Gilda. He'd seen some old footage of the same actress once, dancing for troops during World War II. The young woman on the dance floor looked just like the actress, a perfect pin-up girl for a lonely soldier.

  Except this girl was in full color, with her soft, golden brown waves touched by the soft glow of the stage lights in front and the city lights above, and not in a distant black and white film.

  The dance instructor, clad in tight black pants and a satiny purple shirt, went to her and together they demonstrated a few complicated steps. The instructor then left to help someone else, and Jake continued to watch the young woman, who now danced with a little boy.

  She glanced up at him suddenly, and he held her eyes, feeling an unfamiliar jolt. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look down at his watch, but not before he noticed she also looked away.

  Seconds later, the salsa instructor was standing beside him. When he caught Jake's eye, he nodded knowingly toward the young woman and grinned.

  "Is she one of your instructors?" Jake asked, knowing he'd been caught observing her.

  "No, she's a friend who's in town for
a couple of days. I asked her to come down and help," he explained.

  "I was thinking she looks like the actress in this old forties movie, Gilda," Jake said, uncharacteristically feeling a need to explain.

  "Ah. Rita Hayworth. I can see it." The instructor bobbed his head in agreement. "Rita's father was a Spanish flamenco dancer, you know."

  Jake didn't know, but he nodded politely. They were silent for a moment, and then, "You're Jake Kelly, right?"

  "Right," Jake repeated. Though he wasn't exactly well-known, his image appeared often enough society pages.

  "I'm Robbie." The instructor extended his right hand, which Jake shook. "Is this your last crazy night out on the town before you announce your candidacy and the media stalking begins?" Robbie asked, eyes twinkling.

  "Not exactly—how do you know I'm going to run?"

  "Word gets out." After a few moments of silence, he asked. "Is dancing on your agenda tonight?"

  Jake finally smiled. "No. I'm waiting for a friend. This is just a convenient place to meet."

  At that moment his cell phone signaled he had a text message. "Stood up?" Robbie asked.

  "No, she's running late."

  "Then dance. Trust me, it'll do you good." Robbie put his fingers to his lips and whistled a specific tune. The young woman Jake had been watching turned toward the sound and Robbie waved her over. She looked at Jake and visibly hesitated before walking over to them.

  "I've thought about it, and I don't like your signal," she said to Robbie. "I'm not a dog." Jake had thought her voice would be sultry for some reason, but it wasn't, it was sweet.

  Robbie laughed. "We'll think of something else, but right now, this gentleman needs to dance."

  "Needs to?" She raised both pretty eyebrows, and Jake felt his eyes widen. "I really don't—" But the instructor gently took hold of their arms, turned them toward each other, and then forcibly shoved them to the nearest empty space; a dark corner of the dance floor, before either could protest. The young woman looked up at him, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were a warm shade of topaz and the waves in her hair untamed. Warm and untamed—definitely not his type.

  * * *

  Kayla looked up at the intense, brilliant blue eyes that had been watching her earlier. The man in front of her seemed full of himself, she could tell by the way he looked at her and by the way he held himself. "Don't worry," she said. "We don't have to dance."

  He gazed down at her for a few moments but didn't move to leave. Finally, when it got awkward, he looked to his side, observed how the young man there held his partner, and then turned back to Kayla. He copied the man's stance, caught her left hand in his right, and slid his left hand behind her back. Kayla's pulse picked up. Funny, because he wasn't her type. Short, impeccable jet black hair, chiseled bone structure, and bold blue eyes. He looked like he had been genetically engineered to rule the world.

  The orchestra began playing Sonora Carruseles' "Micaela," a vibrant, spirited song with a powerful beat that enticed bodies to surrender to it. "Have you ever danced salsa?" she asked, instinctively stepping closer and raising her right hand to his shoulder.

  "No, never," he replied, his voice low.

  "Okay then." She cleared her throat. "We'll start with the basics. Step forward with your left foot as I step back with my right, like this... Good! Now step back as I step forward. Perfect." They began to move slowly but in sync. "Try to rock your hips, just a little, like this." She moved his right hand to the swell between her waist and her hip, the way she'd done many times before when helping Robbie with his pupils. But this time, it felt different. The man's hand was warm and firm, and his presence seemed to envelop her. Every sense was heightened.

  "Like this?" he asked, looking directly into her eyes as he tried to copy her movements. She gave him a quick nod.

  They practiced the step a few times until she thought he was ready for more. "Now, when you step forward, try shifting your weight into my space, sort of like leaning into me, like this." They leaned in at the same time, and the man lost his footing, almost knocking her down in the process. His hands instinctively went around her waist when he regained his footing, to steady her, and their eyes locked again. It was unsettling, because she felt safe, and it made no sense. Flustered and at a loss of patience with herself, she broke eye contact. Focus on the steps, Kayla! Again, she cleared her throat. "Salsa is a sensual dance, and you connect with your partner by looking into their eyes. Which means I'm going to have to look into your eyes because that's the way it's danced. And I'm just letting you know because it's obvious you've never done this before, and I don't want you to be embarrassed," she explained, ignoring the fact that he didn't look embarrassed. And for the first time since she'd seen him watching her from the sidelines, he smiled. A spontaneous and seriously sexy smile.

  "Don't worry, I won't take it personally."

  "Good." Kayla looked up and, seeing the amused look in his eyes, she laughed at herself.

  * * *

  Jake found he couldn't stop smiling. She laughed like she danced, with abandon. Right now, surrounded by the powerful cadence of Afro-Caribbean music and holding a stranger that felt good in his arms, he felt anonymous, and that made him feel free, too.

  The young woman shook her head and said, "Okay, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I'll teach you the side steps, and we'll put it all together."

  Jake followed her instructions and lead, unwilling to take his eyes off her unusual eyes, or his hand off the appealing curve between her waist and hip.

  Though he'd never danced salsa and had never expected he would, it wasn't long before he was getting the steps. "Rock, step, slower sidestep, tap. Now forward. Rock, step, slower sidestep, tap... great, you're getting it!" She smiled up at him, clearly surprised and happy that he was succeeding, and making him feel as if he could solve every problem plaguing the human race. "Now try to lead," she told him.

  "Right, I'll lead," he agreed before pausing. "How exactly do I lead?"

  "You have to tug me a bit. Gently, like this."

  He led, slowly moving them in a circular pattern. "How do I spin you?" he asked, feeling adventurous.

  She smiled. "When you step back, separate from me like this," she demonstrated, moving away from him. "This is called open position, and then I slide under your arm, like so," she expertly twisted and turned, and he got a good and much-appreciated look at her backside. Hello, J-Lo. "And then back to close position."

  He tried spinning her but was so distracted by the way she turned her body, he messed it up, making her trip into him. "I'm sorry," he said, but her nearness was intoxicating, and before he knew what he was doing or saying, he tenderly pulled her closer. "I think I'm better at the close position." He held her gaze as they began moving in sync again. Time passed, different music played, but he didn't really notice. He felt lost to her and the night and the music as they laughed while trying and sometimes messing up different moves.

  He tried to spin her again a few times, feeling a strange exhilaration when he finally got it right. She smiled up at him like she knew exactly what he was feeling. They began to dance more smoothly, and the strange current between them intensified. Both his curiosity and trepidation over the sweet sensations flowing between them was mirrored in her eyes. Their breathing was equally shallow. She smelled amazing, like tangy coconuts, if there was such a thing. As he looked down at her and searched her face, he wondered why he was reacting to her the way he was. It wasn't as if she was the first pretty girl he'd held in his arms.

  She studied him, too, but while he knew his eyes rarely gave anything away, her expression was open and easy to read. And he liked her curiosity, but not her fear. Without thinking, he hugged her closer and held her more tenderly.

  * * *

  As the steady and rhythmic "Ave Maria Lola" played, Kayla continued to move to the music. Without thinking, she allowed him to pull her closer... and closer.

  Lola, Ay Lolita Lola, a backup vocalis
t's melodic voice rang out, louder than the rest, and he might as well have been singing Kayla, what are you doing Kayla?

  What this man had was what Tania had been warning her about for years. Sex appeal. She'd never fully experienced its magnetic pull, and she'd begun to think she was probably, and thankfully, immune to it. But here it was, reeling her in.

  The cologne he was wearing held both spicy and woodsy notes and together with his own scent, the effect was almost unbearably sexy.

  Lola, Ay Lolita Lola.

  The last chords of "Ave Maria Lola" died away and Rojita's seductive salsa version of Frank Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night" came on. Sensual salsa was danced closer, more slowly, and they continued to move together, completely in tune with one another. Attraction pulsed between them, but it was more than that. There was a feeling of knowing him... and there was a feeling of not being ready. But she couldn't look away. Wasn't ready to let go just yet. His expression was serious, and his gaze never wavered.

  It began to rain, just a trickle, and a few people began to leave, while others laughed and stayed. The rain tickled her cheeks, her lips, and her shoulders, and the sweet, earthy scent of wet grass permeated the air. Thoughts of her boyfriend, Brandon, broke through her conscience, and she guiltily wondered if she was, in a sense, cheating. Yes, it was just a dance lesson. But her body's response to the man holding her had to be some sort of betrayal, especially in light of Brandon's constant complaints as of late.

  With effort, she broke eye contact. Slowly, her surroundings came back into focus. Somewhere in the distance, Tania calling her. She looked up at the sky and took in a deep, awakening breath. With great effort, she put mind and conscience over body. "I have to go."

  "Why?" he stopped dancing but continued to hold on to her.