5. Shrimp Cocktail #2
I knew that look. It was the look he’d given a hundred women on nights just like this. The one where he liked something they were doing. The one right before he asked them for something more.
Without another word, Daniel took my half-empty champagne glass, gave it to a passing waiter, and turned to me.
You know how there’s always a scene in romantic comedies when the boy files through a crowd at an event, stands in front of the girl, and asks her to dance with nothing but an extended hand?
Daniel was doing that now.
For me.
“I’m noticing you now.” Hope sparkled like diamonds in those big blue eyes. “Will you do me the honor?”
I swallowed. “I—of course.”
I watched as my hand set itself in his, as if it were acting separately from my brain. His palm was warm as his other hand slid to the small of my back and guided me down the lawn toward the big tent and the dance floor.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.
And yet, it was.
“Holy shit, Daniel…” One partygoer’s eyes dragged down my body as Daniel led me past him.
“Who is that ?” murmured another.
More than one head turned as Daniel steered me to the center of the dance floor and raised a hand toward the stage, where the band leader nodded. The opening chords of “The Way You Look Tonight” sang through the night air.
Cliché? Sure.
Amazing? Undeniably.
This moment had been recreated in movies and books for a reason: its perfection couldn’t be improved.
Daniel’s gaze didn’t budge as he guided me through a few simple turns. This man, this so-called playboy, who had never seemed to be able to stick with anyone or anything for reasonable periods of time, was completely focused on me.
“Everyone is watching us,” I said as he whirled me around.
“No, everyone is watching you.”
“They want to know what I’m doing here.”
“They want to know who you are. The prettiest girl at the party, and no one knows her name but me—finally.”
My body hummed under his touch, under the magnetic force of that cheeky grin. Like he couldn’t help but take me all in, Daniel’s gaze dusted over my face, neck, shoulders, and, yes, my cleavage, with the kind of appreciation I’d seen him bestow on others.
And now it was on me.
“Marie Zola.” My name was a rumble, deep and content, from the back of his throat.
The butterflies in my stomach returned.
Flirting. That’s what this was. You’d think it would be easy, considering I’d grown up in a family of flirts.
My grandfather called his wife “doll” until the day he died.
My brother charmed every girl in the neighborhood.
Lea, Kate, Frankie, Joni—all of them different, but all of them had the natural understanding of how to bat their eyelashes, flash their teeth, giggle, chide, retort, or compliment, to get exactly what they wanted.
But to me, flirting had always been a foreign language.
Daniel Lyons was my soulmate. I’d known it since I was fifteen.
Did that mean I wasn’t supposed to laugh, even if I did find his joke funny? Or should I laugh more than the rest of them, even if he wasn’t funny at all?
I settled for a simple smile.
He didn’t seem to mind as he moved me around the dance floor.
I’d never been more grateful to have been raised by people who came of age in the fifties.
Nonna forced all her grandchildren to learn to dance to standards just like this, so while I might have felt unsure in Daniel’s arms, at least I could box step.
“I should have told you,” I admitted after two more turns that brought me close enough that I was sure he would feel my heartbeat through his tux.
“Told me what?” Another flash of his grin had me seeing stars.
“My—my name. On the plane. I shouldn’t have toyed with you that way.”
He frowned, almost as if he’d forgotten what had transpired only hours earlier. “That’s right. You are a cruel little thing, aren’t you?”
His reply was confusing. To be cruel didn’t sound like a good thing, but his expression indicated he liked it.
“A cruel but beautiful, bewitching woman messing with my poor heart.” He took my hand off his shoulder and brought it to his lips. “How ever will you make it up to me?”
More flirting.
Was he looking for a real answer? Another apology? Or was I supposed to say something that was similarly paradoxical to the point of satire? If he was calling me cruel, should I call him entitled? Say something like, Well, you deserved it, you spoiled little boy .
The idea made me cringe.
I was completely out of my depth.
“I have an idea.” Daniel drew me close enough that his mouth brushed the top of my ear. The buttons of his jacket cut through my silk. “Let’s go somewhere. Talk. Keep getting to know each other again.”
Again.
Like we had before.
Like he remembered me after all.
Like he’d secretly pined for me just the way I had for him.
I knew it was ridiculous. Impossible, even. But just the same, there was that tiny, not-insignificant part of my brain, the voice of the wallflower who was dying to be noticed, who dreamed about Daniel Lyons doing just that, who couldn’t help but wonder: Did he?
It was a spark of hope that burst into flame.
People were still watching us with vague interest, the way they always did when Daniel Lyons talked to a pretty girl. Men peered with envy and appreciation. Women judged with considerably more distaste.
“Please, Marie.” Daniel’s lips feathered over my cheek, his breath sweet with champagne and strawberries. That orange blossom-vanilla scent toyed with my senses. “You only gave me a taste of who you are, and I’m already addicted. I need more. Don’t make me beg.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t hear over the thundering of my poor heart.
I managed to pull back enough to look at him directly, just to make sure there was no sign that this was some horrible joke.
Those big blue eyes, as deep and bright as the Caribbean, were utterly serious.
“The conservatory?” Daniel asked before drawing my knuckles to his mouth. “Ten minutes?”
He rubbed a thumb where his lips had just been, and was it my imagination that he played more over the ring finger than the others? The one where I’d always fantasized his diamond would rest?
That flame of hope grew brighter as the rest of the world faded away.
Maybe that sad, lonely girl hadn’t been so desperate and deluded after all. Maybe the destiny I was owed was here. I’d waited long enough, but it was finally happening.
I swallowed my fears, ignored the blatant stares and dizziness in my head, and nodded. “O-okay.”
“I’ll get some more champagne and meet you there.” Daniel’s kiss to my cheek tingled. “See you there, gorgeous.”
My heart was in my throat as his cologne wound around me like a hug.
This couldn’t be happening.
And yet it was.
For me.
“I’ll see you there,” I whispered.
But he had already heading into the crowd.
I shoved a hand through my hair, taking a moment to calm my heart before I followed. “And then maybe I’ll wake up.”