Millie hoped the third time worked. She clasped her right hand with Jace’s.
Dancing in front of the judges and camera had been difficult enough the first two times. Now with patrons, people who knew how to tango, in the bar sipping drinks and watching them, and her foot throbbing with pain, she didn’t know if she could do this.
Except she didn’t have to.
Evita did.
Evita could.
Millie took a deep breath, something hard to do in the tight dress she wore. The plunging neckline and slits on both sides left little to the imagination. Not that the men staring at her seemed to mind. Or Jace.
She gazed up at him, handsome in his flowing blue silk shirt, black slacks, and shoes. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got, Evita.”
He pulled her close, her chest pressing against his. He might look cool a
