Dancing Around Love

By Tracy Johnson

After suffering a devastating loss and broken heart Cyn vowed never to love again then she met Rhys and he challenged everything she thought she knew about love. Will she lower her guard and let love in?

Rhys was ready to settle down and start a family but there was one problem, the woman he'd fallen in love with was only a voice on the radio. Can he put a body to the ethereal voice that has captured his heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracy Johnson
• Release date: May 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301306107

Book preview

Dancing Around Love

By Tracy Johnson

Copyright 2013 Tracy Johnson

Smashwords Edition

Prologue by Cyn Brown-Williams

Cover Art: Laura Shinn

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

She approaches the microphone like a lover…

her personality contrived, but true, purring the latest,

exalting the greatest of the pure smooth beat.

They know just where to find her,

at which point on the dial she can be heard.

The groove is soft, safe… known to all who listen.

Comforting, relaxed, familiar… this is her place

to the ears of many and the hearts of a few.

Chapter 1

You’re listening to Cyn City, with smooth jazz on KJAZ, the Breeze. It’s a balmy eighty-four degrees on this desert evening, with a light wind out of the south. I’m here from six until midnight, sooo… if you’re still winding your way home, relax and let me ride along. If you’re already home, kick back with a cool drink releasing the pressures of the day with me on The Breeze 106.9 FM.

The sultry voice of the deejay and mellow tones of a saxophone flowed over Rhys ebbing away some of the day’s stress. When he’d left home for work, the sun was just breaking the horizon and light morning traffic aided in his commute to work. Now, on the return trip, sunlight reflected a shimmering heat island off the car in front of his and rush hour traffic inched along the highway hindering his commute home. His brow furrowed as thoughts of returning to a house as empty as his life weighed heavily upon him. The closing on his new house was only a month old. It was a logical excuse for the house’s emptiness, however no suitable explanation was available for his life. The lack of companionship caused a wrinkle in his otherwise well-executed plan for living. Rubbing the furrows away, he came to a decision. It was time to make some changes. Being the methodical man that he was, every aspect of his life was well planned. From the decision eighteen years ago to make the military a career to his current assignment at Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas. Things hadn’t always worked out exactly to the letter, but for the most part he was satisfied with his life’s progression until now.

Young, stupid and looking for excitement he’d joined the Air Force, becoming a pararescuer in the Special Forces Unit. His job was to provide medical assistance and rescue to any military personnel in combat situations. His unit saw extensive action during the famine relief in Mogudeshu and the Gulf War. There wasn’t anything pretty about war. It was brutal and unforgiving. When the Gulf War ended in ninety-one, he’d experienced enough excitement to last several lifetimes. He’d cross-trained into recruiting for the Air Force. Instead of saving military personnel, he would save the lives of misguided youth. Enduring wartime situations left him with a basic strategy he applied to everything. Assess the situation. Devise a plan of attack. Attack! Victory! He’d entertained the idea of just acquiring a significant other but it lacked the long term stability of acquiring a wife and all the intimacies that came with having one. So after assessing the situation further, Rhys knew he was ready to settle down. The attack phase was now in full swing having devised a simple enough plan for achieving his goal. Date likely candidates until he found a suitable wife, which he’d done and still the sweet nectar of victory was elusive thus far, revealing an apparent flaw in his basic strategy of finding a mate. Plain and simple, it did not work. It was time to throw out his basic strategy and devise another plan of attack.

The velvety voice of the deejay broke into Rhys’ musing. A stalled tour bus, west bound on Highway 95 has caused a traffic backed up. If you’re one of the unfortunate drivers on 95, this one is for you. Here on 106.9 The Breeze, cool jazz in the desert.

That would explain why he’d moved only three feet in the last thirty minutes. Rhys sank a little deeper into the soft leather seat, resigning himself to the wait. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the gentle strumming of a guitar. At least he had a sexy voiced deejay and good music to help wile away the time. Looking around, he noticed most of the other drivers opted to run their air conditioners. The windows were down on the Pathfinder, giving him access to the warm breeze. The heat didn’t bother him. He inhaled deeply, releasing a slow measured breath, basking in the moment. What was the point of living in the desert, if you didn’t like the heat? Having had the good fortune of living around the world, he knew Las Vegas was home for him. The skyline of the Strip could be seen off to the left of the highway and ahead loomed the Spring Mountain Range. One had to tolerate tourists year round, but in his opinion Vegas was definitely a great city to live in. It offered excellent food, entertainment at a moment’s notice plus the bonus of year-round good weather. What more could one ask for in a city? If only he could find personal satisfaction as easily as he did social satisfaction.

Rhys stared unseeingly at the gridlocked traffic. The realization that he wanted to settle down came long before his move to Vegas. The change in job location presented him with opportunity to make long overdue changes in his personal life. Having moved to the right city, he took the next step and built a home. It was large enough to accommodate a growing family, yet secluded from the main hustle and bustle of the Strip. Everything had gone according to his meticulous planning except the wife part. To his great frustration, the past eight months were spent dating women from all walks of life, showgirls, waitresses, business and military women. They were beautiful and intelligent, but not the one for him. Rhys thought of himself as pragmatic, but his firm belief he’d know the right woman when he met her bordered on romanticism. His search was for someone to raise a family and share companionship with in the waning years. He wasn’t looking for or expecting undying love. Hell, based on his past relationships, he didn’t think it was a possibility. The few he’d had ended badly.

Rolling his eyes with a slight shake of his head, tired beyond reason of hearing about his faults. The women involved didn’t hesitate to point out several qualities they found undesirable. His self-reliance was deemed unnerving, and his self-confidence was mistaken for arrogance. When it came to relationships he’d discovered being his own man was looked on as a curse. He didn’t know how to act any other way and would be damned before compromising his character. Still, he didn’t delude himself into thinking he was a great catch. Without looking in the rear view mirror, Rhys mentally cataloged his features. He was on the darker end of the spectrum for black men. On occasion growing up, his mother referred to him as rich dark chocolate while his brother was caramel. Ben was by far the better ladies’ man, as women loved his ready smile and carefree attitude. They, on the other hand, found Rhys intimidating. It wasn’t that he didn’t laugh or smile; he simply took life a tad more seriously than Ben.

Serving in the military required him to be continuously groomed. His hair was cut close with a smattering of gray mingled into the small waves. A beard and mustache cut just as close, framed a square face and full lips. He was six feet tall and by his standard the perfect height. He considered himself fit. After ten years as a pararescuer, he was in the habit of always being ready for whatever life threw his way. He was often told his most fascinating feature were his eyes. Their light gray color brought to mind cloudy skies. During his pararescue days they earned him the nickname, ‘Wolf’. He was the alpha male, always on the lookout for trouble but ready to protect.

The seductive voice oozed from the speakers again. Good news for those motorists on Highway 95. The tour bus has been towed, and traffic should begin flowing soon. Here’s Boney James on the sax in celebration of the little pleasures in life, like flowing traffic.

Rhys shifted to a more upright position. Traffic indeed began to move. He would be home in no time. His house may be lonely but the view of Spring Mountain Range was priceless. It was situated deep in the subdivision at the base of Red Rock Canyon. Roads had not been laid when he chose the lot. The property lines were drawn such that the canyon seemed to cradle the two-story house. He pushed the remote for the garage door and heard barking. Okay, his house wasn’t exactly empty. Myles greeted him at the door, but dog sitting for a friend didn’t count towards filling a house or his life. Seth, his best friend, had come by earlier this morning asking him to watch Myles for a few days. Maybe, he should think about getting a dog. It would give him a form of companionship, not necessarily what he desired or the alleviation of his loneliness completely but a companion nonetheless. What he really needed to do was determine where he’d erred in his quest to find a mate.

Rhys turned on the radio, a habit he’d developed since moving into house when returning from work. At first, he did it to reduce some of the silence in the house but soon after the honey-voiced deejay captured his attention. Now, he listened for the sole purpose of hearing what he’d dubbed the voice. It was remarkably eerie how sometimes the combination of her voice and music selection mirrored his emotions. Shaking his head pathetically, Rhys changed out of his uniform. What had his world come to when the highlight of his day consisted of listening to a radio deejay? Of course, she did play good music, and a good jazz station was hard to find, or so he told himself to help rationalize his actions. In reality, he gained more pleasure in listening to a faceless sultry-voiced deejay than all the dates he’d been on. He fed Myles and thinking to feed himself stood in front of the open refrigerator. Nothing looked appealing. It was becoming depressing to cook for one person. The words coming from the radio swept all thoughts of food from his mind.

You’re listening to 106.9 FM, cool jazz in the desert. If you have any questions about our programming, comments on the music, or just want to shoot the breeze, give me a call at 555-2030. I will be happy to answer your questions, or you can log on to our web site at www.kjaz106.9.com.

Wow! He couldn’t believe she’d sent out such an open invitation. Absently closing the refrigerator door, Rhys moved to where he could see the speakers. He stared intently as though he could actually see the deejay through them trying to understand why she’d invited any and all kinds of nut cases to call her. He opened the French doors leading to the covered porch. The evening was still balmy with a soothing light breeze blowing. He sat rubbing Myles, contemplating whether to call the station.

Again, the number is 555-2030. Feel free to call with your questions.

Her solicitation was not totally out of the ordinary. And it was probably a part of her job to provide an opportunity to learn about the radio station. Still, he couldn’t dispel the feeling she’d extended the invitation to him alone. A personal bid for him to learn more about the deejay. Never during all his time of listening to the voice had it ever occurred to him to call the station yet right now, for some strange reason, the thought of actually talking to the voice was tantalizing. He knew her call-name was Cyn City, but the voice was how he’d come to think of her. And although he didn’t know her, she’d somehow become the ethereal embodiment of what he looked for in a wife. If truth be told, he measured his dates against a ghost voice, and found them lacking. For who could compete against a ghost image even he couldn’t see clearly?

The temptation to call was too strong to resist. And he did have a few legitimate questions about the radio station. Rhys rolled his eyes. The excuse was flimsy at best but he would take it, make the call, ask his questions then hang up. If he actually talked to the voice, surely his fascination with her would wear off. Besides, the real Cyn couldn’t possibly measure up to the person he’d imagined her to be. Regardless, it was time to exorcise a ghost in order to increase his chances of finding a flesh and blood wife. Pouring a glass of wine, he walked with Myles back to the porch. Rhys sat on the threshold step and dialed the station.

KJAZ, Cyn speaking. How may I help you?

Even without her identification, there was no mistaking the voice. Her husky words flowed into Rhys’ ear. "I was listening to your program and heard your offer to answer any question." He stressed any. Don’t you know the dangers of extending such an open-ended invitation?

I’m learning fast, she laughed.

Are you trying to get weirdoes to call you?

She laughed again. Only the nice ones. Besides, I’m quite capable of handling the average obscene caller.

The light sound of her laughter reached deep inside Rhys, touching places only shadows dared to dwell. I think of myself as above average. Are you capable of handling them, too?

Try me and see, she countered.

Would you like me to? he dared.

Yes, she said thoughtfully, I think I would.

I really do have a question for you.

Cyn sighed her disappointment, saying, And here I was hoping you were going to make my day by being obscene.

My mother taught me never to be obscene on the first date.

Darn! She laughingly feigned regret, Just my luck to get an obscene caller with manners.

Maybe next time I’ll be obscene.

You promise, she purred enticingly into the phone.

Quick, sharp banter flowed between them. She had a good sense of humor and her voice was even sexier over the phone than the radio. Her laughter promised to reveal secrets untold for generations. Scheherazade’s voice must have been this charismatic as she recited 1001 Arabian Nights’ tales. The king surely spared her life because of its hypnotically sensual quality not because of the intriguing stories she told. Cyn’s voice had that affect on him. He could listen to her voice and never tire of hearing it. Instead of the apparition fading, it began to take on form. It was time to ask his questions and hang up. Why do the lady deejays play better music than the men deejays?

Cyn was slightly disappointed he’d chosen to stop their mental dueling. It had been a long time since a man captured and held her attention so quickly. Sound was everything to her, especially since she made a living from it. The deep baritone voice of the caller was very pleasing to her ear. It was not demanding or hesitant, but evoked confidence, sure of its ability to hold an intelligent conversation. Are you sure you’re not biased in favor of the female deejays?

I’m sure I am, but in my opinion they still play a mellower selection of music.

The time of day determines to an extent the playlist. John-Paul works the morning rush hour. He has more news, weather, and traffic reports with less music. His playlist is more upbeat. The Midnight Man works the wee hours of the morning. His audiences are night owls. He walks the fine line between mellow and upbeat. Make the music too mellow and they fall asleep. Gabrielle has the midday shift, which caters to the working audience and features give-a-ways. Her music is a bit livelier interspersed with soothing jazz. Jennifer begins the rush hour traffic, which necessitates mellow jazz for relaxation. It too features more news, weather, and traffic reports than music. I have the evening shift, which encompasses the tail end of rush hour and all the after work crowd. The music is very mellow with some public announcements. She took a long breath. How’s that for an answer?

Impressive. She was informative and direct with her answers. I have another question.

Hold that thought. I have to change the music.

Rhys could hear her through the phone and with a slight delay on the radio too. It was the same yet different. The husky voice ebbed hauntingly throughout the porch surrounding him. If he closed his eyes, he would swear she was in the room with him.

What was your question?

The similarities between the female voices are striking. They contain, for lack of a better word, a certain silkiness. Is it a prerequisite they possess the same tonal qualities?

Yes. The station directors want to continue the mellow jazzy undertones induced by the type of music we play with our voices.

I must congratulate them on their success. The Breeze is a superb jazz station.

Thank you. I am pleased to know we have another satisfied customer.

I favor your sophisticated quiet storm style above the other deejays.

Is this an attempt to redeem yourself for not being an obscene caller, or should I take this as a sincere compliment?

He could hear the laughter in her voice. A sincere complement of course.

"Why, thank you,