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He didn’t answer immediately but looked at the crowd on the dance floor doing their best impression of John Travolta to “Stayin’ Alive.” “Not really my thing.”
Yet his toe tapped on the rung of the stool.
“I always find it amazing that you guys have perfect rhythm and timing on the ice, yet you claim not to like dancing. Me, I love it.” She wiggled in her seat.
He frowned. “That’s completely different. One is a sport. That—” he pointed to the dance floor with his glass “—isn’t.”
“True. And some people should probably stick to hockey. Bless his heart, Monty has two left feet.”
A step behind the music all the time, Chaz “Monty” Montgomery made up for his lack of skill with enthusiasm.
“He’s a goaltender,” Scotty said. As if that explained everything.
The music slowed. Couples drifted together.
Sapphie wrinkled her nose. “I never did like this song.”
“That was my ex-wife’s favorite.”
Way to go, Sapphie. “I’m sorry.”
Scotty shrugged. “Everyone has different tastes.”
They sat silently, watching the light from the disco ball send sparkles over the dancing couples.
“Honestly, I never liked this song much either.”
At his dry words, she whipped her head around to look at him. A hint of a smile played around his lips.
She was tempted to lean over and kiss them. To taste that scar. But this wasn’t the time or place for that behavior—especially from the maid of honor.
That didn’t stop her wanting to.
Willing herself to sound casual, she said, “I’d offer to give you new memories for the song, but we should pick something that won’t make us wince every time we hear it.”
“Good thinking. Plus the singer has the same name as my ex.”
“We’ll definitely choose another song, then.”
With impeccable timing, the DJ segued into the next track. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any better. She looked questioningly at Scotty, hoping this wasn’t one of his favorites.
For several seconds he appeared to be enjoying the music. Then he said solemnly, “Sorry, but we can’t have our song being about a dying woman. Too morbid.”
She grinned, relieved. “I love Bette Midler, but this song always grates on me. Perhaps because I hate movies with sad endings. Life’s hard enough.”
“For sure.” His smile faded.
Way to bring the evening down, dodo. Determined to cheer things up, she said brightly, “Next song, whatever it is, love it or hate it, we dance. Deal?”
For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. But he nodded. “Okay. Deal.”
They waited as the current song reached its climax. Then the DJ’s deliberately deep voice washed over the crowd. “Last slow song before we take up the tempo again. So grab your favorite girl or guy and smooch.”
The moment of truth. Sapphie and Scotty looked at each other.
She was surprised by how much she wanted this dance. Even a little nervous.
He held out his hand, palm up. “A deal’s a deal.”
“It certainly is.” She laid her hand in his. “Luckily, I like this song,” she said as they joined the other couples. “I’ve always liked Christopher Cross. This one’s a little corny, I know, but there’s something romantic about the lyrics. Especially given where we live.” Jeez, she was babbling like a teenager on her first date.
“I like the idea of being caught between the moon and New York City.” Scotty pulled her gently into his arms.
Without saying anything, they slipped into the old-fashioned way of slow dancing. Her right hand clasped in his left. Her left on his shoulder, while his other hand rested against the small of her back. They started with a respectable gap between them, but the number of people made them draw closer together.
At least, that was her excuse.
Her thighs were pressed against his. Solid, hard muscle. Her breasts crushed against the broad wall of his chest. The heat of his body seared her, despite the barrier of their clothing.
He brought their joined hands in and rested them against his chest. She could feel his strong, steady heartbeat beneath his tuxedo jacket.
Her left hand slipped across his shoulder to his neck, delighting in the smooth skin and corded strength. The hand at her back began to caress her, slowly moving up and down her silk dress before edging toward her hip.
Their feet barely moved as they swayed to the music.
His cheek rested against her temple. His breath stirred her hair and whispered against the sensitive skin beneath her ear. If she turned her head slightly, her lips would be pressed against his jaw. If he turned his head slightly, his lips would be pressed against hers.
She wanted his kiss very much.
Slowly, tentatively, she started to move her head. At the same moment, he began to move his. Their mouths were so close. So tantalizingly close. One slight movement and they’d meet. She lifted her gaze to his.
Oh, those serious blue eyes. She could lose herself in them. They would be her downfall tonight. How could she resist him?
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_afb6cda8-6416-5f77-a0d1-a8341d7961cd)
SCOTT WAS AS nervous as a geeky teenager dancing with the homecoming queen.
He hadn’t held a woman, other than his wife, in his arms for...hell...too many years to think about. For sure not since he was eighteen. Even before then, he’d been more interested in hockey than girls, so he was as green as a rookie when it came to women. What little he knew was as outmoded as a cassette tape in the world of music streaming.
Slow-dancing with the prettiest woman in the room... Staring into her clear blue eyes.
He angled himself slightly so that his groin wasn’t against her thighs, then shifted his hand on her back.
Even he could read the invitation in Sapphie’s expression. The way she moved their joined hands to link their fingers. How she tilted her head so her mouth was barely a breath away from his.
Sapphie wanted to kiss him.
He’d never wanted anything so much.
The thought startled him. His heart thudded against his ribs. It sounded like something his always-in-love, everything’s-a-drama daughter would say.
He was a grown man. He’d seen Sapphie a few times over the past year and each time he’d felt guilty about how he’d reacted to her. He’d put it down to his divorce, his retirement—anything but the fact that it was Sapphie herself who sent his pulse skyrocketing.
Kiss the woman already.
He lowered his head, brushing his mouth over her lips. Getting the sweetest taste.
A lightning bolt shot through his body, headed straight for his groin.
He wanted more. Much more.
Start me up.
The intro to a Rolling Stones song blasted him out of the sensuous moment. Scott jerked his head up. At the same time, he tightened his hold on Sapphie. Not wanting to let her go. But they couldn’t remain on the dance floor making a spectacle of themselves by continuing to slow dance while everyone around them bopped to Jagger.
He and Sapphie eased apart, but he didn’t let go of her hand. She tightened her grip. They headed toward the back of the ballroom, where they found an empty space near a table to stand.
“So...” Sapphie cleared her throat. “Probably not the best place for kissing.”
The tips of his ears grew hot.
“Uh, no.”
Sapphie looked him straight in the eye. “Do you want to find a place to continue this or get a drink?”
He knew what his answer should be. “I’m not thirsty.”
Sapphie’s smile lit up her face, making him feel like he’d scored the game-winner. Which, given he was a stay-at-home defenseman, would be as much of a miracle as this evening was turning out to be.
“There are gardens out back,” she suggested. “We could take a walk, get some fresh air.”
“Fresh air’s good.”
She tilted her head toward the door. “We can make a break for it before the song ends.”
Like naughty schoolchildren, they slipped past the caterers replenishing the buffet and paused in the foyer to adjust to the brighter light.
Scott half expected Sapphie to change her mind. What would a bright, bubbly and beautiful woman like her want with an out-of-work, out-of-place old guy like him?
Instead, she tugged on their joined hands, pulling him into a side corridor that ended at a glass fire door. He pushed open the door for her, then let it close behind them.
The night was surprisingly still, even though crickets and tree frogs chirped. The balmy air felt good after the chill inside. A rain shower earlier in the day had lowered the blazing late-summer temperatures and cleared some of Jersey’s notorious humidity.
Scott and Sapphie strolled along the brick path, their way lit by old-fashioned lanterns that cast pools of soft light at regular intervals. They crossed over a wooden bridge that spanned a shallow stream and continued toward a stone gazebo. Turning a corner, they took steps leading down to a jetty, which stretched out into the dark water of the lake.
Sapphie slipped off her shoes and held them by the heels. “Come on. Let’s dangle our feet in the water.”
She didn’t wait for his answer before dashing to the end of the jetty.
Scott followed, smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. “Wait. You’ll ruin your gown if you sit there.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket and spread it out on the planks. “Now you can sit, my lady.”
She grinned, clasping her hands to her chest. “My hero. Thank you, Sir Galahad. Or should that be Sir Walter Raleigh—protecting my silk dress from damage by laying down your coat?”
“Either way, you’re welcome. Can’t have you going into the ballroom with a dirty patch on your backside.”
Flirting wasn’t one of his skills, because he’d never needed to play those games.
Thankfully, Sapphie laughed at his inept response. “That would be hard to explain.” She dipped her bare feet into the water and wiggled her toes. “Oh, that feels good.”
Man, was he out of his depth when he was turned on by dainty feet and cute toes.
She patted the space beside her. “Won’t you join me? There’s enough room, so you won’t get mud on your great butt either.”
He sat beside her and was about to put his feet in the water when he realized he still wore his shoes. Hoping Sapphie hadn’t noticed, he removed them and his socks, then put them behind him on the jetty. He also remembered to roll up his pant legs.
“You’re right. That feels good,” he said.
They sat quietly, watching the play of moonlight on the rippling water. For a woman who exuded energy and life, she was surprisingly good at handling silence. She didn’t rush to fill it with chatter. The only movement was the swish of her feet making little whirlpools.
Scott managed not to jump when her hand slipped into his. Instead, he kept staring forward as he entwined their fingers, then rested their joined hands on his thigh. His thumb mimicked her feet, stroking her soft skin in circles. His pulse kicked when she copied his action, her thumb drawing circles on his knuckle.
He turned to look at her. Only to find her studying him.
The silence became charged. Like the electricity in the air before a storm.
Sapphie gently touched his mouth with her finger. She lingered over his scar, making it tingle. “I know this doesn’t hurt anymore, but it makes me want to kiss your poor lip better.”
He almost couldn’t breathe. “Feel free,” he managed to say.
She didn’t need a second invitation. She kissed her fingertip and pressed it to his lip.
He tried not to be disappointed. He’d expected—
Her mouth replaced her fingertip. She brushed a soft kiss against his scar. So fleeting it was over almost before it started. Yet it sent fierce need pulsing through his body.
Her second kiss was firmer, lasting a fraction longer. Her third, longer still. Then her tongue traced his scar.
He hardened instantly, spurring him to action. Two could play this game.
He reached up and rubbed his thumb over her full lower lip. Back and forth, gently parting her lips.
She responded by nipping his thumb, then flicking her tongue against it. Her mouth curved into a teasing smile. A satisfied glint lit her eyes.
So she thought she was in control? That she had him where she wanted him.
Not quite.
He swept in and took advantage of her parted lips. No teasing or flirting. No hesitation or asking permission. His hand cupped the back of her head, anchoring her to him.
