"May I have the honor of escorting you back up?I'm sure the guest of honor is wondering what happened to his wife," he said.
"His wife?"Claire laughed again."Oh, I'm not Hamish's wife.I'm his niece."
Jay raised a brow."Is that what he's calling you?"
"Seriously.I truly am his niece.My mother was his sister.You're thinking of Nicole.She's not his wife, but she'd certainly like to be."
"Then he wouldn't mind if I escorted you back upstairs, would he?"
"I don't think so.Yourwife may object, however," Claire shot back.
"My wife's not here," Jay replied.
"I see."She eyed him suspiciously."She's not bothered when you're off flirting with strangers?Like you did back in Negril?"
"Two things.First, my wife passed away.And second, we're hardly strangers."
Claire swallowed hard, heat rising in her cheeks and growing redder with each second.If only she could disappear into one of the paintings on the walls.
"I had no idea.I am so very sorry.Please accept my condolences and my most sincere apology for being so thoughtless."And pardon me while I remove my size nine foot from my big mouth.
"No apology necessary.But if it will make you feel better, I’ll let you buy me a drink."
A few steps inside the ballroom, Jay took her hand and guided her through the throng of tuxedos and evening gowns.Champagne toasts and big band music swirled around them.Without a word, he led her past the bar and onto the dance floor.When he slipped a gentle hand around her waist, Claire forgot the ache in her feet and the uncertainty clouding her thoughts.He gave her no chance to object, sweeping her into the crowd with quiet confidence.
Claire spotted Hamish standing in the corner of the room.He watched her with a pleased expression and discreetly raised his glass in her direction—a silent sign of approval.She answered with a nod, suddenly unsure how she'd arrived at this particular moment.Only minutes earlier, she'd sat quietly beside her uncle, enjoying his obvious happiness with the evening's events while still eager for the night to end.Now she was dancing in the arms of a very handsome man who, thankfully, was not a stranger.Not a complete stranger, anyway.
"I guess it’s my turn to offer an apology," he whispered.
"What for?"she asked.
"For not extending a proper invitation to dance.It's just that they were playing our song and I didn't want to miss it."
"Our song?"Claire listened closely.
"The song from the piano bar that started our initial conversation.”
A knowing look fell across her face."From the Fred Astaire movie.Top Hat?"
"I think it wasSwing Time."
He continued to hum softly in her ear as they moved around the dance floor, causing Claire's mind to race.Whether it was the champagne or the music—or the bizarre twist of fate reuniting them—she didn't know.
"I believe the piano player's version was somewhat slower—and heavier on the jazz," she said.
"This band is great, but I like our version more," he said.
Our version.OUR version?What is even happening?
Claire felt his grip tighten as he pulled her closer.A noticeable distance still remained between them, though far less than when they had first stepped onto the dance floor.Before she knew it, one song had slipped into the next.She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much or enjoyed herself so completely.Once again, his sense of humor and easygoing nature impressed her, and despite her calm demeanor, her heart continued to pound.Later, she would recognize it as the exact feeling that had crept up on her in Jamaica.This mutual attraction?Impossible to ignore…and their flirtatious banter only confirmed it.
With every new tune, upbeat and bubbly, or slow and sensual, he hummed or sang the words in her ear.But as with all good things, the songs ended, the band prepared for a short break, and they were left standing and staring at one another in the middle of the dance floor.
"I haven't danced like that in years.Thank you," Claire said.
"One more?When the band starts back up?"he asked.
"I’d love to, it's just that…” She looked anxiously around the room in search of Hamish.
