ONE DANCE BEFORE MIDNIGHT

She came alone. She had no intention of leaving that way.

The Woman Who Came Alone

At fifty-two, Margaret Sullivan had become very good at attending events she didn't particularly enjoy.

Charity galas, business dinners, fundraising receptions—she knew exactly when to smile, how long to make polite conversation, and which excuses worked best when she wanted to escape.

Tonight, her excuse was a headache.

A perfectly respectable headache that she intended to develop at precisely eleven o'clock.

Seated alone at a beautifully decorated table in the ballroom of the Grand Wellington Hotel, Margaret glanced at her watch.

Ten fifty-three.

Seven more minutes.

She smoothed her midnight-blue sequined gown, picked up her champagne glass, and sighed.

Two years had passed since her divorce. Her former husband had remarried, her children were grown, and her friends seemed determined to introduce her to every eligible bachelor within fifty miles.

None of them understood that Margaret had spent most of her adult life pretending to want something she had never truly wanted.

And at fifty-two, she was finally finished pretending.

Unfortunately, knowing what she wanted and actually finding it were two very different things.

She checked her watch again.

Ten fifty-four.

"You're not seriously thinking of leaving, are you?"

Margaret looked up.

Standing beside her table was a stunning red-haired woman in a burgundy satin evening gown, smiling as though they'd known each other for years.

"I'm sorry?"

The stranger tilted her head.

"You've checked that watch three times in the last five minutes. Either you're expecting an important phone call or you're planning an escape."

Margaret couldn't help smiling.

"Perhaps both."

"How unfortunate."

"Why?"

"Because I've only just worked up the courage to come over here."

May I Have This Dance?

The woman extended her hand.

"Alexandra Pierce. Forty-one. Architect. Terrible at small talk, excellent at dancing, and currently hoping you won't tell me you're married."

Margaret laughed.

"Margaret Sullivan. Fifty-two. Divorced. And I haven't danced with anyone in years."

"Perfect."

"Perfect?"

"Then I won't have any competition."

Margaret felt an unexpected warmth spread through her cheeks.

"Miss Pierce, are you flirting with me?"

"Shamelessly, Mrs. Sullivan."

"Miss Sullivan," Margaret corrected.

Alexandra's smile widened.

"Even better."

The orchestra began playing a gentle, romantic melody.

Alexandra held out her hand again.

"May I have this dance, Margaret?"

Margaret looked toward the dance floor.

Couples moved beneath glittering chandeliers, elegant gowns sweeping across the polished marble.

"I really should be leaving."

"Probably."

"It's getting late."

"Terribly."

"And I don't even know you."

Alexandra leaned closer.

"Then perhaps we should fix that."

Margaret hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in Alexandra's.

"One dance," she said.

Alexandra smiled.

"One dance."

A Beautiful Reason to Stay

Margaret had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be held.

Alexandra's hand rested gently at her waist, her other hand holding Margaret's as they moved slowly across the ballroom floor.

For the first few moments, Margaret was terribly self-conscious.

"I'm probably stepping on your feet."

"Not once."

"Then you're being very generous."

"Margaret, darling, I'm dancing with the most beautiful woman in this ballroom. I can afford to be generous."

Margaret laughed softly.

"Do you always say things like that?"

"Only when they're true."

"And how many women have you said them to tonight?"

"Just one."

Margaret looked up.

Alexandra wasn't laughing anymore.

There was something wonderfully sincere in those green eyes, something that made Margaret's heart beat a little faster.

"I noticed you earlier," Alexandra admitted.

"Oh?"

"You were standing near the window during the reception. You looked beautiful, but rather lonely."

"That obvious?"

"Only to someone who was feeling much the same way."

Margaret smiled sadly.

"I wasn't always lonely."

"Neither was I."

They continued dancing.

Alexandra told her about a long relationship that had ended three years earlier. Margaret spoke about her divorce, her grown children, and the strange freedom of discovering herself so late in life.

When Margaret admitted that she'd never danced romantically with another woman, Alexandra's expression softened.

"Then I'm very honored to be your first."

Margaret rested her hand a little more comfortably on Alexandra's shoulder.

"You're making it rather difficult for me to leave."

"Good," Alexandra whispered.

When the Music Ends

The orchestra slowed.

The final notes drifted through the ballroom, and couples began separating, applauding politely before returning to their tables.

Margaret remained exactly where she was.

So did Alexandra.

"Well," Alexandra murmured, "the music has stopped."

"I noticed."

"Technically, we should probably stop dancing."

"Probably."

Neither woman moved.

Alexandra smiled.

"Margaret?"

"Yes?"

"Would you think me terribly forward if I told you I'd like to see you again?"

Margaret looked into her eyes.

"I'd think you were a woman with excellent taste."

Alexandra laughed.

"Wonderful. How about dinner tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Unless you're busy."

Margaret pretended to consider her schedule.

"I believe I have an appointment with a particularly uninteresting television program."

"Cancel it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Margaret smiled.

"And what if I don't want to wait until tomorrow?"

Alexandra's expression changed.

"Oh?"

Margaret moved a little closer.

"There's a lovely little bar downstairs. Comfortable chairs. Excellent wine. And I happen to know they serve dessert until midnight."

Alexandra glanced toward the clock.

Eleven fifty-eight.

"Margaret, darling, I believe we're running out of time."

"For dessert?"

"For something considerably more important."

One Kiss Before Midnight

They were standing almost alone on the edge of the ballroom now.

The orchestra had begun packing away its instruments. Waiters were clearing tables, and the remaining guests were making their way toward the exits.

Alexandra gently brushed a blonde curl away from Margaret's cheek.

"May I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Would it be too soon to kiss you?"

Margaret's heart fluttered.

At fifty-two, she'd imagined this moment more times than she cared to admit—the possibility of meeting a woman who looked at her with affection, who wanted her company, who made her feel beautiful without expecting her to be anyone other than herself.

And now that moment had arrived.

"Alexandra," she whispered, "I've waited far too many years for someone to ask me that question."

Alexandra slipped an arm around her waist.

"Then I suppose I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer."

Their first kiss was soft, a little tentative, and absolutely wonderful.

Margaret closed her eyes, resting one hand against Alexandra's cheek as the rest of the ballroom seemed to disappear.

When they finally separated, Alexandra was smiling.

"Well," she whispered, "that was even better than the dance."

Margaret laughed.

"Are you always this confident?"

"Absolutely not. My knees are shaking."

"Good. Mine too."

Somewhere across the room, a grandfather clock began striking midnight.

Margaret glanced toward it.

"Oh, dear."

"What?"

"My headache."

Alexandra looked concerned.

"You have a headache?"

"Not anymore. Apparently, it's been completely cured."

Alexandra laughed and kissed her again.

Then she offered Margaret her arm.

"Shall we find that bar?"

Margaret slipped her hand through Alexandra's.

"Yes, darling. I think we should."

They walked out of the ballroom together, two elegant women who had arrived as strangers and were leaving with the delicious possibility of something neither had expected.

And as the elevator carried them down toward the hotel bar, Margaret leaned closer and whispered something that made Alexandra laugh.

"By the way, Alexandra?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Tomorrow night, I expect at least two dances."

Alexandra kissed her cheek.

"Margaret, darling, I'm hoping for a lifetime."

For the first time in many years, Margaret didn't feel the slightest urge to run away.

She had come for one dance before midnight.

And somehow, she'd found a reason to look forward to every tomorrow.