At least she looked old enough to drink. Even if she wouldn’t be for a few more weeks. She reached up and clasped the chain around her neck, feeling more secure, if only slightly. She never left home without the simple piece of jewelry she’d designed herself.
Stormy scanned the room for Lindsey. Only the flies on the wall would know what excitement her friend was off having. Lindsey certainly wasn’t hiding in a corner somewhere.
Enough was enough. With or without Lindsey, Stormy needed an exit strategy. She gathered up her glittering clutch, slipped her feet back into the ridiculously high stiletto heels she had borrowed from Lindsey, and then covertly tried to make her way to the door.
She was mere inches from freedom when she felt a solid, masculine hand touch her bare shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze. Busted. Okay, play it cool, Stormy. Just smile, pretend like you belong here for five more seconds, and then make a run for it.
“Are you lost?”
The deep baritone of the voice sent a shiver down her spine. She really wanted to turn and look at him, but at the same time she didn’t. Cowardice wasn’t normally one of her traits, but she was in uncharted territory and she was trying to flee.
“No. But thank you.” She took another step.
“Are you refusing to have a conversation with me?”
Now she seemed rude. His voice didn’t change, but she could swear there was a challenge in it. Dammit! Stormy couldn’t resist a challenge.
Stormy finally turned, and when she looked up, she found herself gazing into a set of sea-green eyes with the longest eyelashes she’d ever witnessed on a man before. She found herself speechless.
“Let’s dance,” he said, holding out a hand, not concerned by her lack of vocal abilities.
This wasn’t a good idea.
“I don’t think so. I really need to go,” she told him. But he didn’t remove his outstretched hand, and she didn’t want to pull away and call attention to them having this conversation.
What if the people standing around realized she was crashing this wedding? She was going to murder her best friend if she ever found her again.
“One dance won’t take long.” The deep timbre of his voice made her stomach stir. Uh-oh.
His dark hair was rumpled, and his stark white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, showed a nice view of his tanned chest. And those shoulders—oh, those shoulders—looked as if they could carry a roof trestle on them. There was a bit of youthfulness in his face, but he had to be a few years older than she was.
What was one dance going to hurt? The racing of her blood proved she wouldn’t dislike it. Heck, even if she were caught, it might just be worth it to have this man’s arms around her for a few minutes.
He said nothing else as he waited, confident she would cave. He was right. She watched a smile lift the corners of his mouth as he moved a little closer, and she knew she was a goner. His smell was wafting over her, a mixture of spice and leather. She almost giggled as the verse Sugar and spice and everything nice flitted through her frazzled brain cells. Wait! That was for girls, not for drool-worthy men.
“I guess one dance wouldn’t hurt,” she finally said.
The shiver that rushed through her had nothing to do with the warm evening air. She wished she could say it was chilly out.
Without saying anything more, the stranger leaned down and took her hand in his slightly work-roughened fingers. He pulled her toward him, casually wrapping his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her now trembling rib cage as he led her toward the overflowing dance floor. Without hesitation, he turned her, pulled her tightly against his hard body, and began swaying to the music.
She couldn’t even concentrate on the song that was playing, he was holding her so close. Her heart was beating out of control. Wasn’t this something she’d fantasized about many times on those lonely nights that she lay in bed after putting aside her favorite romance book?
She’d close her eyes and picture a handsome man finding her sitting alone somewhere. He’d have a smile that could light up a darkened room, but his gleaming eyes would look no farther than her.
As she began to relax and enjoy the moment, a woman’s laughter made her tense all over again. Panic flooded her. What if this really was a dream—the dream she wanted to come true so bad? Maybe someone had even spiked that second glass of champagne she knew she should have turned down? This was too unbelievable to be real. After all, men like this man didn’t dance with wallflowers like her.
As her arms rested around the back of his neck, she reached for her own hand and gave it a quick pinch. She knew she looked ridiculous, but she had to be sure this was real. The little jolt of pain drew a quiet squeak from her lips. Oh yes, she was awake. She didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified by that fact.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, leaning back, those green eyes gazing into hers, just as she’d always imagined.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper. Her cheeks flamed as he looked at her, a knowing gleam in his eyes. She was busted and she knew it, but there was nothing else she could do, so she continued to sway in his arms.
“I’ve been watching you for the past ten minutes. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he told her.
Oh my! This man was either incredibly smooth, or she really had conjured up her dream man. Either way, she decided to enjoy this moment to its fullest. She found herself gazing at his lips as he spoke. He had beautiful lips—strong, firm, masculine, and turned up in the most appealing way.