Blue Dawn by Norah-Jean Perkin

heat seemed to have the opposite effect on Allie. The hotter and the wearier she got, the crazier she became, slapping on the paint, joking and laughing, telling humorous and revealing stories of The Streeter’s first two years.
    He watched Allie wiggle the pert little bottom that was becoming of increasing interest to him.
    He couldn’t stop glancing at the slim, smooth, paint-spattered legs whose swaying he was responding to in the most primitive way possible, all Zalian controls to the contrary.
    He swallowed. Obviously, the methodical plan he had devised to win Allie’s affection both at work and on the home front was working.
    The problem was, he wasn’t sure who it was working on. Certainly he had expected the intrusion of at least some emotion. After all, he was one quarter human. But he hadn’t expected to like the process so much. Or her.
    He noticed Allie’s cat slip out from behind a divider separating the bedroom from the rest of the large apartment. Allie set down her roller and, with an impulsiveness he was starting to recognize as characteristic, scooped up the little cat and started to dance around the room to the lilting strains of the next song.
    After a couple of turns, Sharkey meowed and managed to wriggle out of Allie’s arms. He disappeared around the divider with a screech.
    “Hmph.” Allie pouted. “That wasn’t very nice.
    You’d think after all I’ve done for him, he could at least dance with me. This is one of my favorite songs, too.”
    She glanced at Erik. Her pout turned to a grin.
    She stepped over to him and held out her arms.
    Erik stopped painting. The expectant gleam in her eyes set off a faint spark of apprehension within him.
    “May I have the honor of this dance, Mr.
    Berenger?”
    “Why?” The word escaped before Erik could stop it.
    “Why not?”
    Erik cleared his throat. No one danced in Zalia.
    And it wasn’t a skill he’d thought he’d need for his short time on Earth.
    “I can’t dance.”
    “That’s what you and every other man on the planet says. But I know you can. Please? I’ll lead.”
    Without waiting for his answer, she tugged the roller from his hand and dropped it into the tray.
    “Come on.”
    She took his hand and tugged him forward. She clasped his left hand in her right hand, positioned his right hand at her waist and her left hand on his shoulder. “Just follow me.”
    She started to twirl him around the room, in a sweeping motion he recognized in seconds as following a three-beat pattern. Before ten bars of the song had passed, he had picked it up, and was skimming around the large room with Allie.
    She smiled up at him, her eyes aglow. She wrinkled her nose, smudged with paint in a way that did nothing to detract from her beauty. For the first time he noticed the faint sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
    “See? I told you you could do it,” she said encouragingly. “You’re a much better partner than Sharkey any day. Isn’t this fun?”
    Solemnly Erik nodded. Because she was right.
    Holding Allie closely, gazing down into her glowing face, sharing her pleasure in the music and being alive, was ”fun”.
    In fact, he realized with a start, it was better than fun. For the first time in his life, he felt connected to another being. By the music. By the warmth of her hands. By the sunniness in her face.
    Of their own accord, his lips started to curve upwards.
    The music slowed. Allie cocked her head and looked at him again. “You should do that more often,” she said.
    “What? Dance?”
    “No, silly. Smile.” She lowered the hand holding his but did not release it. “Why don’t you smile more often?”
    “Because Zali—” Erik broke off. Because Zalians don’t smile . For a moment he reeled with shock and confusion over his loss of control, over the fact that he’d almost given himself away.
    He cleared his throat. “Levity was never a big thing in my family. I . . . we . . . in my family we were always