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As Melanie watched the world pass by in a muddled blur of inky night and spots of light, she had to wonder whether that was so.
When they walked into the gaily decorated ballroom at the hotel that was hosting Westvale High’s reunion, several people hurried over to Melanie and Cade, calling their names. Even after so many years apart, Cade recognized several of the faces, but was still damned glad the reunion committee had stuck name tags on everyone’s chests.
“Paul Klein!” Melanie exclaimed, striding forward, Dave at her side to greet their old friend. At six foot six, he still towered over Melanie, even if his long curly hair had become a buzz-cut. “How have you been?”
“Great, great,” he said, giving Melanie a warm hug, before turning to shake Cade’s hand. “It’s been a long time since those double dates in Cade’s Mustang, huh?”
“You guys are finally here!” Jeannie enveloped them in a double hug, then pulled back to indicate a trio of class officers behind her. There was a flurry of introductions, of catching up. Somehow, Cade lost track of Melanie, separated by the flood of people.
Then, he caught sight of her, standing to the side, chatting with a brunette whose face rang a familiar bell; Cade didn’t remember her name. He wasn’t aware of anything really, except for Melanie. In that deep crimson dress, with her hair loose around her shoulders, Melanie managed to pull off both sexy and elegant, the fabric skimming down her curves, making him wish it was his hands running along those feminine lines again.
Their lovemaking had been as intense as it had been in those early days when passion overrode every thought, and yet this time, it had the added depth of years of connection. Cade had thought—hell, prayed—that in the afterglow, Melanie might have been tempted to try again. But her silence when he’d said he loved her spoke more than anything else she’d said in these last few days.
Melanie was right. One kiss, or even a hundred kisses, wasn’t enough to rescue their marriage. Making love to his wife had only been a temporary mask for their problems.
On the way over here, he’d intended to play by her rules. To keep it cool and impersonal, but the longer she stayed in his sight, the more impossible it became, especially as his mind replayed the moments in her bedroom, the sweet ecstasy of having his wife in his arms again.
Still, if he rushed her, or he pushed too hard, he knew he could end up driving her away. His fists clenched at his sides, keeping him from reaching for her, drawing her back into his arms. Then she smiled at him, and something within Cade tightened.
Maybe it was the starry lights strung overhead, the way the disco ball above had been adapted to sweep a sparkling of light across the floor. The soft music, the band crooning a ballad from the eighties…
It was as if they had stepped back in time. Cade slipped through the crowd, weaving in and out among the people until he reached his wife. He slipped his hand into hers. Comfort infused him.
“Cade,” she said, her voice a warning.
“For just one night,” he whispered, not wanting to let go of the veil of intimacy temporarily surrounding them, “let’s pretend nothing has gone wrong. Let’s just be Cade and Melanie.”
She cocked her head. “Wasn’t that the plan, so that no one knows what’s going on?”
“I don’t care what other people think. I want us to forget those papers on my desk, to forget it all, and go back to the beginning.”
“But…” Her voice trailed off, as if she were about to reject the idea as easily as she had his whispered confession of love earlier.
“In the morning, we go back to business as usual,” Cade said, wishing that wouldn’t happen, praying that tonight had turned the tide between him and Melanie. “For tonight, Mellie, just tonight, be my wife. One more time.”
She hesitated, then her green gaze met his, and she nodded, her gaze dropping to the ring on her finger. “One night. Like Cinderella.”
The band segued from a fast-paced song to a slow and easy ballad. Cade may be surrounded by people whose names he’d long forgotten, but he recognized the familiar notes. The Whitney Houston hit whispered its magical melody, flashing his mind back to late nights in his Mustang, parked wherever they could grab a little privacy, the windows fogged from the steam of young love, while the radio played those same melodic strains. “They’re playing our song.”
“You remembered,” she said, clearly surprised and touched that he recognized it.
He nodded, his gaze locked with hers, searching, still searching, for those lost threads of his marriage. “Dance with me, Mel.”
“But I see Bill Hendrickson over there.” Melanie pointed to where the punch bowl and appetizers had been laid out. Bill stood beside the cheese platter, chatting with two other men. He sent a wave Cade’s way. “Didn’t you want to talk to him?”
“Later. Right now, all I want is to dance with you.” Cade reached out, waiting until she’d put her other hand in his, then, together, they made their way to the dance floor. As it had in the days before work and nighttime feedings and dirty dishes had taken over their days, the music made the world around them drop away. He swept her against his body, one arm around her waist. Their pulses merged, heartbeats synchronizing with their every step.
She tipped her head up, her eyes dark and unreadable, her lips inches from his. Want brewed inside him, a different and deeper want than what he’d felt earlier tonight. It was as if, at this moment, with Melanie in his arms and the music of their past playing in the background, his life had finally come full circle.
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