Chapter 26
The bride was lovely, the setting at Pelican Point Lighthouse was spectacular, Mother Nature had reined in the wind and painted the sky blue—but Aaron couldn’t focus on any of that as he sat beside Devyn while the happy couple exchanged vows with the endless ocean as a backdrop.
Because he kept sneaking peeks at his date.
Date.
A delicious spark zipped through him.
Dangerous as it was to admit, that term had an appealing ring to it—even if they’d agreed to keep everything casual and low-key today.
Yet Devyn’s figure-skimming silky blue dress was anything but casual and low-key, the neckline dipping low enough to draw attention to the delicate hollow of her throat and the smooth expanse of skin below her collarbone where a single pearl on a gold chain rested.
The graceful upsweep of her hair was also perfection.
She was elegant. Stunning. Class personified.
And the sweet, gentle curve of her lips while the couple said their “I do’s” seemed to hold a hint of yearning that mirrored his own.
He let out a slow breath.
For a man who’d vowed never to fall in love again . . . who no longer trusted his judgment about women . . . who’d resolved to walk a wide circle around any involvement that held a hint of relationship potential . . . he was setting himself up for a fall by spending this evening with Devyn.
Because no matter how hands-off and just-friends they kept their date, or how much self-discipline he exercised, he had a feeling his heart wasn’t going to cooperate.
Beside him, Devyn began to clap. So did everyone else.
The ceremony must be over.
He joined in the applause, giving his high school friend a thumbs-up when the grinning groom glanced his way as the couple passed.
“That was beautiful.” Devyn turned to him. “Weddings are always filled with so much hope and promise and dreams, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Even if his own dreams of marital bliss had shattered. But rather than dwell on that depressing thought, he stood and crooked his elbow. “I think they’re going to cut the cake and do the official dances first. We better follow the crowd.”
After a brief hesitation, she rose and slipped her hand through his arm. “I’m glad I wore flats. Otherwise my heels would be sinking into the ground, after all the rain we had this morning.” She sounded a tad winded as they crossed the headland toward the event center for the reception.
“Very smart.”
“I try to be.” She flicked him a quick look.
A reminder, perhaps, of their agreement to watch their step tonight—and not just while they were dancing.
Duly noted.
A small orchestra was already playing when they entered the banquet room, and by the time they found their seats and introduced themselves to their tablemates, the bride and groom had cut the cake and moved to the dance floor.
“We’re up next.” He leaned close to Devyn as he spoke. Closer than he needed to. The music wasn’t that loud.
“You ready for your moment in the spotlight?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Did you practice this week?”
“Some. Isabel joined in the fun. She got a kick out of it, but the height difference was problematic.”
“Did she pick up the steps?” Her warm breath feathered across his cheek and played havoc with his respiration.
“Faster than I did.” He cleared the hoarseness from this throat.
“Don’t sell yourself short. You did fine.” She angled around to watch the dancing couple. “They’ve had lessons too. That’s a fancy foxtrot.”
“Yeah.” He followed their progress across the dance floor. “I only know the basic step for that dance. They’ve added a bunch of flourishes.”
She looked back at him. “You didn’t tell me you had any ballroom background.”
“‘Background’ would be a stretch. Early in our marriage, Olivia signed us up for a ballroom dance class. The first lesson was the foxtrot. I did okay with that, but when we moved on to the cha-cha, she told me I was hopeless and we stopped going. For whatever reason, the basic foxtrot step has stuck with me. Not that I ever have occasion to use it.” If he was lucky, maybe Devyn would suggest he dust off his rusty skills tonight and give him another chance to hold her in his arms after the obligatory swing number.
She didn’t.
Instead, she motioned to the two groomsmen and the bridesmaids they’d been paired with who had positioned themselves at the edge of the dance floor. “The second act is waiting in the wings. Should we join them?”
“I guess so.” He stood, motioning her to precede him after she rose.
They took their place with the rest of the wedding party, and as soon as the first dance ended, the bride waved them onto the floor.
Devyn led the way out, pivoted, and extended her hands.
They were going to dance open position, not closed.
He masked his disappointment as best he could. She was being smart, and he’d be wise to follow her lead.
But once the music started, he took the lead, focusing on the steps he’d practiced in his room long after his undersized partner went to bed. No way had he wanted to embarrass himself—or his teacher.
The first few moves were a bit stiff, but once he got into the rhythm and was confident his feet were cooperating, he actually began to enjoy himself.
Based on Devyn’s smile, she was too.
When the song at last wound down, he threw caution to the wind and guided her through a double spin to finish it off.
“Wow.” Her feet had stopped moving, but her eyes were still dancing. “Well done—and mission accomplished.”
“Thanks to you.”
“You can’t teach people rhythm. You have a natural instinct for it.” She cocked her head. Reached over and adjusted his bow tie. “It got a little crooked during the dance.”
He swallowed as a faint floral scent floated past his nose. “Thanks. Shall we, uh, reclaim our seats?”
They wove through the round tables to their appointed spots, and no sooner did they sit than the toasts began.
As soon as those were over, the servers swooped in with plates.
The woman on Devyn’s right proceeded to monopolize her throughout the meal, leaving him to chat with the man to his left, who had strong opinions on the state of the world and wasn’t averse to sharing them.
This was not how he’d expected this evening to go.
Heck, at this rate he wouldn’t be able to have a real conversation with Devyn until they were in the car driving home.
Not acceptable.
While they’d agreed to keep everything light, he’d assumed he’d have some one-on-one interaction with his date.
Short of their tablemates cutting out early, however, it appeared the only way to make that happen would be to ask her to dance again.
He finished off his wedding cake and washed it down with a swig of coffee just as the band began to play a tune with a foxtrot beat.
This was his chance.
As soon as the guy beside him suspended his monologue to take a bite of cake, he leaned over and spoke in a low voice no one but Devyn could hear. “I need a break from Mr. Motor Mouth beside me. You want to dance?”
She excused herself from the woman who’d bent her ear during the entire dinner. Surveyed the dance floor as the vocalist began to croon “Night and day, you are the one . . .” Uncertainty flared in her irises, but in the end she nodded.
Without giving her an opportunity to change her mind, he set his napkin on the table, stood, and held out his hand.
She rose and slipped her fingers inside his, following him as he wove through the tables. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’m sure that woman is nice, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Sounds like you were in the same boat.”
“Yep.” He led her onto the dance floor. Turned to face her. “I do know the basic steps, but it’s been a while.”
“No worries. Wherever you lead, I’ll follow.”
If only.
He squelched that inappropriate thought—and stopped thinking entirely when she stepped into his arms. All he could do was hope the muscle memory she’d talked about would take over, because his brain was on overload with all the sensory input.
The feel of her slender fingers clasped in his.
The scent that was all Devyn swirling in the air around him.
The slight hitch in her breath when he slid his arm around her waist.
The lingering sweetness on his tongue from the wedding cake, which couldn’t compete with the sweetness of Devyn, who matched him step for step as they swayed to the forties song that had surprisingly racy lyrics.
If only the tune could go on forever, and he could dance into eternity with this woman who felt so right in his arms.
But all too soon the music began to wind down.
And once they returned to their table, they’d be cornered by their tablemates again.
Unless they didn’t return.
Dare he suggest they steal away and find a quiet corner, perhaps even go out to the lighthouse for a few minutes before they called it a night? It was still bright out, after all. It wasn’t as if he’d be proposing a moonlit stroll.
Nevertheless, such a suggestion wasn’t quite in the spirit of the rules they’d agreed to play by this evening. And tempting fate could be a mistake.
As long as he kept his impulses on a tight leash, though, there shouldn’t be any problem. Besides, it would be worth the risk if it bought him a clifftop stroll with the loveliest and most interesting woman he’d met in longer than he could remember.
The music stopped, but Devyn didn’t seem to be in any hurry to step out of his arms.
That was a positive sign.
Maybe.
“I suppose we have to return to Speaker’s Corner.” She finally eased away and offered him a wry smile.
He braced and went for broke. “I have a better idea.”
“I’m all ears.”
“It’s a beautiful evening, and there are benches along the path to the lighthouse. If you’d like a break from the wedding bustle and all the pontificating that seems to be prevalent at our table, we could wander outside and enjoy the view for a while.”
It was impossible to decipher the cavalcade of emotions parading across her face, but best case, he’d put the odds of an affirmative response at fifty-fifty.
So as he waited for her verdict, he psyched himself up for a no and prepared to mask his disappointment.
At last she gave a slow nod. “I’d like that. The musical score for this scene is great”—she motioned toward the band—“but the dialogue leaves much to be desired.”
He blinked.
She was willing to go outside? Be alone with him?
Amazing.
Also sobering.
Because her assent meant she trusted him to honor their agreement.
And he would. Even if it took every ounce of his willpower.
He nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Let me grab my purse. I’ll meet you by the door.”
While she wound through the crowd congregated on the dance floor and headed for their table, he made his way toward the exit—and made a vow.
No matter how tempting the setting or the ambiance or the beautiful woman by his side, he would not overstep.
No hand holding, no embracing, and certainly no kissing.
Even if, in other circumstances, a kiss would be a perfect end to a date with a woman who made every encounter feel like the Fourth of July.