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“It suits you,” he said easily as if they were discussing nothing more personal than the current weather forecast. Yet when his eyes met hers, she saw pure masculine appreciation in the liquid depths.
Lifting his glass of wine he tapped the crystal against hers. “To being adventurous.”
She hesitated. Though his smile was smooth, his expression bland, she sensed an undercurrent of challenge. As she hesitated, he raised a brow. Deciding she was being silly, Poppy took a sip.
They stood there for several heartbeats, gazing over the sea of people. She told herself to make an excuse and walk away but the testosterone wafting off him kept her tethered where she stood.
If anything, she had to fight the urge to lean into him. What had her mother always said? Stand too close to the fire and you’ll get burned.
“Travis warned me about the mistletoe.” She blurted the first thing that came to her mind when the silence lengthened.
Benedict’s lips quirked upward. “I’m surprised he said anything. Both he and Mary Karen seem to take great joy in watching their friends get caught under those tiny sprigs.”
“Seems kind of foolish to me,” Poppy mumbled, then immediately wished she could pull the words back. Just because she had no intention of making a public spectacle of herself didn’t mean other people might not enjoy an unexpected kiss.
Killjoy. Isn’t that what her ex had once called her when she’d complained about the endless parties? Hadn’t he made it clear the reason she wasn’t having fun at the events was because of her attitude? Perhaps he’d been right.
“It’s much too early in the evening for a sigh.” Benedict’s eyes turned sharp and assessing.
Poppy could feel her face warm. “I—”
“Why yes, I’d love to dance.” He took her hand and grinned. “Thanks for asking.”
She almost told him this was a cocktail party, not one of those fancy affairs at the Spring Gulch Country Club. Until she saw a space had been cleared in the middle of the room and more than one couple was swaying to the music from the big band era piped in from overhead.
They reached the edge of the impromptu dance floor before she could protest. When he pulled her to him and they began to move in time to the smooth tune, it was difficult to remember why she’d hesitated. His arms were strong and sure, one hand settling on her waist, the other holding hers in a firm grip.
Poppy told herself that once this song concluded, she’d make an excuse and get as far away from Benedict as possible. For now, dancing was preferable to making small talk. Except when they were simply talking, she hadn’t been quite so aware of his broad chest or the strength in his arms. And she hadn’t realized just how good he smelled.
The scent, spicy with a hint of tang, tickled Poppy’s nose in a very pleasant way and made her want to press close to get a bigger whiff.
A female vocalist was singing about the glories of love. Poppy resisted the urge to snort. She’d once been an incurable romantic, a hopeless optimist, a love-struck fool. She was older now. Wiser.
Then what the heck are you doing in Benedict’s arms having a good time?
Red warning flags began popping up in her head.
“How do you like your new job?” he asked in a low tone, his warm breath tickling the top of her ear.
“It’s very rewarding.” She made the mistake of glancing up, meeting those magnificent eyes framed by thick eyebrows and incredibly long lashes.
There was something in the slate-colored depths that made her stumble. A heat she hadn’t expected. Nor had she expected an answering desire to course through her veins like slick, warm honey.
Feeling more than a bit panicky, she tried to recall what she knew about the man who held her so confidently in his arms. Benedict was dating a fellow doctor. That’s right. He wasn’t interested in her. He was simply being polite. She let her shoulders relax. “How’s Mitzi?”
Okay, so perhaps she could have been a little more subtle, done a better job transitioning into the topic. But darn it, keeping a clear head was difficult when she was breathing in the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the clean fresh smell of soap.
He cocked his head. “Mitzi Sanchez?”
She gave a jerky nod.
“She’s fine.” He looked perplexed. “But why ask me?”
“Because you’re dating.” Poppy spoke almost primly. “It’s polite to inquire about a person’s significant other.”
He laughed then, a booming laugh that caused the couple dancing next to them to turn and smile.
“Mitzi and I are friends, colleagues.” Benedict dropped a hand to her arm then steered her to an area where it was less crowded so they could talk. If he noticed the stiffening in her spine, he didn’t mention it. “We haven’t dated in months.”
Poppy wondered if Bill had explained her away so easily to all the women he’d seen when they were married. “I saw the two of you together at The Coffee Pot only a couple of weeks ago.”
At Benedict’s puzzled look, she continued, filling in the blanks.
“It was a Sunday morning. You were seated beside her.” Poppy lifted her chin. “I saw you,” she repeated.
His expression turned thoughtful. “Large table? Back of the room?”
“That’s correct,” she said hesitantly now, wishing she could think of a way to change the subject.
All the attention he was giving the matter caused a knot to form in the pit of Poppy’s stomach. Too late she realized her error. She’d made him think that somehow it mattered to her if he was dating Dr. Sanchez. When it didn’t. Not at all.
“There’s a group that meets at The Coffee Pot every week after church.” His eyes filled with understanding. “I can see where you might have gotten the wrong impression.”
“Forget I said anything.” Poppy waved an airy hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“But I do,” he murmured.
Startled, she widened her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you.” Benedict trailed a finger down her cheek. “It wouldn’t be right to do that if I were involved with someone. Or if you were. Are you seeing anyone, Poppy?”
“Me?” Her voice rose then cracked. “No. I’m not seeing anyone. What’s this about kissing? You can’t—”
“Look up,” was all he said.
Poppy lifted her gaze. Directly above her head hung a sprig of shiny dark green leaves. Her heart stuttered. “Mistletoe.”
The word barely made it past her lips when his mouth was on hers. She didn’t know a whole lot about mistletoe other than it seemed that most who found themselves under the leaves settled for a peck on the cheek. Apparently Benedict hadn’t gotten that memo.
The kiss started out sweet. His lips were firm and warm as they molded against hers. Just when she expected him to pull away, his tongue swept across her lips and she’d opened her mouth to him before she realized what she was doing.
By then it was too late. Desire, hot and insistent, filled her veins. Her arms wound around his neck and she pulled him closer. By the time the kiss ended, her breath came in short puffs and her body ached for more.
She took a step back, feeling his gaze on her. Poppy resisted the urge to straighten her dress and smooth her hair. Instead she placed a polite smile on her lips, mumbled something about needing to speak with someone across the room...and bolted.
Chapter Two
Poppy ignored him the rest of the evening.
From across the room Benedict watched the pretty brunette laughing with Lexi Delacourt, a fellow social worker. Even though Poppy had a clear line of vision to him, she didn’t once glance in his direction.
Benedict rocked back on his heels and blew out a breath.
“Perfect Poppy is hot.” Tripp Randall, the CEO of Jackson Hole Hospital, spoke over Benedict’s left shoulder.
“Perfect Poppy?” Benedict raised a brow.
“That’s what everyone called her back in high school.”
“Why?”
“Always looked perfect, I guess.” Tripp shrugged. “You should go after her.”
“Save your breath, Randall.” The smile he sent the administrator showed a lot of teeth. “I don’t need a matchmaker.”
Still, Benedict understood the hopeful undertone. Tripp obviously found it encouraging that he was showing interest in Poppy, rather than Tripp’s younger sister, Hailey. The fact that he and Hailey had gone out on several dates in the past six months hadn’t sat well with the hospital administrator.
Though Tripp considered him a friend, heck they even played on the same basketball league, he was protective of Hailey and believed that, at twenty-six, she was much too young for him.
Benedict didn’t agree with that assessment but he didn’t care enough to argue the point.
“That was some kiss you shared under the mistletoe,” Tripp continued in an offhand tone that Benedict guessed was anything but casual.
“So good—” Benedict pulled his gaze from Poppy and frowned “—she hasn’t spoken to me since.”
He had to resist the urge to turn back to Poppy, to keep her in sight. But that would make him look desperate, which he most certainly had never been and wasn’t now.
“How odd.” Tripp brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “From where I stood earlier it appeared she enjoyed locking lips with you.”
Benedict lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug and studied the dark burgundy liquid in his glass. Poppy’s reaction after the kiss puzzled him, as well. He was positive, or almost positive, he hadn’t misread the interested signals she’d been giving off.
It wasn’t as if they’d been strangers. He’d originally met Poppy last fall at another of Travis Fisher’s parties. Benedict had enjoyed their brief conversation that night. Enjoyed it so much he found himself hoping their paths would cross again at one of the parties over the holidays. She hadn’t shown her face at any of the events. Until tonight.
Although he’d arrived late, the moment he spotted Poppy he was glad he’d come. It had been going well until he’d stolen a quick kiss with all the finesse of a schoolboy in the throes of a first crush.
Benedict raked a hand through his hair and expelled a harsh breath. He had no one to blame for the current situation but himself.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance again?”
“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” Benedict shot back, frustration twisting his gut into a knot.
“Okay, okay.” Tripp raised his hands, palms out.
The sound of feminine laughter rang out and Benedict slanted a quick glance in Poppy’s direction. God, she was beautiful. The red dress hugged her body like a second skin.
“Want to hit the Flying Crane with me?”
Benedict jerked his attention back to Tripp.
“On the fourteenth.” The hospital administrator’s eyes took on a hopeful gleam.
“That’s Valentine’s Day,” Benedict reminded him. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want to spend the evening with me when you could be with her.”
He gestured with his head to where Tripp’s bride stood speaking with the hostess. Adrianna, or Anna as she’d recently instructed him to call her, was lean and voluptuous with thick dark hair and a face that belonged on a cover of a fashion magazine. She was also a well-respected midwife.
Tripp shifted his gaze and Benedict experienced a stab of envy at the pride and love in the newly married man’s eyes.
“Anna will be at the Crane participating in a Torch Singing competition that night.” Tripp snatched a canapé from a passing waiter’s silver tray. “It’s a fund-raiser for Community Safety Net.”
“A worthy cause.” It was impossible to live in Jackson Hole and not be aware of all the good work being done by the nonprofit. The organization provided shelter and advocacy to victims of domestic violence and sexual assault.
“I thought you might want to come and help me cheer her on,” Tripp added.
Since he wasn’t dating anyone special, Benedict hadn’t given much thought to Valentine’s Day. He supposed spending an hour or so at the popular bar knocking back a couple of beers with Tripp while watching Anna sing could be fun. “What exactly is torch singing?”
Tripp hesitated. His face took on a pained expression. “The contestants sing sentimental love songs—”
The words came more quickly at Benedict’s snort of laughter.
“—with a distinctly jazz and blues influence.”
“I’ll check my calendar,” Benedict told him. “If it turns out I can’t make it, tell Anna I’ll happily make a donation.”
“Coward.”
Benedict laughed. He sobered when he saw Winn Ferris swagger over to speak with Poppy and Lexi. His gut tightened as Lexi sauntered off, leaving Poppy alone with the man.
Last summer, Winn had blown into Jackson Hole as an emissary of GPG. His employer, a large investment firm based in Atlanta, had deep pockets and a mission to develop every inch of Jackson Hole.
Although Winn pushed and pushed hard, his golf course project had gotten hung up in the environmentally sensitive guidelines passed by the county several years earlier. Those who expected Winn to give up and return to Georgia with his tail between his legs had been mistaken. He’d stayed and continued to fight.
Benedict liked the business executive, had found him to be intelligent with a good sense of humor. But Winn wasn’t the right guy for Poppy. She needed someone different, someone more...grounded in Jackson Hole.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her flash Winn a brilliant smile. When Winn responded by looping a friendly arm around her shoulders, a knife twisted in Benedict’s gut. Though he’d planned to stay and enjoy the evening, Ben had the feeling if he didn’t walk away now he might do something stupid. Like tell Winn to back the hell off.
With frustration fueling his steps, Benedict was halfway across the room when Poppy’s eyes met his. He told himself to just keep walking. But something inside him locked into place at the connection.
She held his gaze long enough for him to see the heat shimmering in those beautiful green eyes. Heat directed not at Winn Ferris, but at him. Then Winn touched her arm and Poppy shifted her gaze back to the business executive.
Yet there was no denying for that one instant there’d been a tangible connection between him and Poppy. Benedict found himself whistling as he walked out the door.
* * *
Over the next two weeks, Benedict’s thoughts strayed to Poppy at odd times. But he didn’t have a chance to do more than wonder how she was doing. A rash of skiing and motor vehicle accidents had kept his surgical schedule full.
After finishing an emergency open reduction of a comminuted tibia fracture, Benedict left the hospital to return to his office. He still had to see the handful of patients who’d chosen to wait, rather than reschedule. To his surprise, he discovered that one of his associates, Dr. Mitzi Sanchez, had stayed to help him out.
By the time the last patient limped out the door, even the receptionist had gone home. Apparently most of the staff had plans for Valentine’s Day.
