Page 39 of Magnolia Summer

“Thank you, Dr. Beverly.”

She smiled up at him. He was sure his heart stopped for five whole seconds. A soft, feminine smell, like lilacs and roses, wafted up from her hair, filling his head and making his heart skip.

“Please, call me Truett.”

She raised her eyebrows but didn’t reply.

He realized he was still standing beside her, holding her elbow. He moved to his place opposite her and the music began. The men bowed and the women curtsied. He and Celia met in the middle and linked arms, dancing around in a circle, then held hands as they spun around again. She smiled at him so warmly he wondered if he was dreaming.

They changed partners two times, then came back together to hold hands and skip down the line of dancers and back again.

“You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I am having a good time.” Her dimple deepened. He hadn’t noticed it before. Probably because he’d never seen her smile so big.

His lungs seemed to swell to twice their normal capacity. They might as well have been the only two people in the room, because hers was the only face he saw.Lord, let the next dance be a waltz.

The music ended. Her cheeks had turned a healthy pink, which heightened her appeal and made him wonder how soft her cheek would feel against his fingers.

“Shall I get you some lemonade?”

“No, let’s dance again.”

His heart soared, and the band leader granted his wish, announcing a waltz. She placed her right hand in his left. Afraid of breaking the spell, he gently laid his right hand on the curve of her waist. Then she placed her left hand on his shoulder. He searched her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. Was she at all affected by his touch?

Someone tapped his left shoulder. Celia let go of him, but he kept his right hand on her waist.

He turned his head and saw Curtis Suggs glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m cutting in.”

“Why don’t you ask the lady who she wishes to dance with.”

Curtis’s cheeks flamed red. His eyes flashed fire. He turned to Celia. “Miss Celia, would you do me the honor?”

“I’m dancing with Dr. Beverly now, thank you.” Celia didn’t smile.

Truett turned his back on Curtis. If the varmint didn’t get the hint from Celia’s unfriendly look, Truett would have to give him a message he couldn’t mistake.

He focused again on his lovely partner, and the smile returned to her lips. They clasped hands again, and he was highly aware of every one of her fingers touching his hand and his shoulder.

The music started and they began to move in rhythm. The curls hanging by each of her cheeks swayed as she moved, caressing her face, then flowing backward to brush her ear. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. He tried not to stare at her lips, he truly did, but the way they turned up at the corners was irresistible.

* * *

Celia letthe music of the waltz and Truett’s arms carry her around the floor, her feet gliding as if on ice. She found it hard not to stare at him. He was so handsome, with his hair combed back, the slight cleft in his strong chin. His sun-tanned skin contrasted nicely with his white shirt. Her eyes kept slipping to his chest, so broad, reminding her of the way his muscles had rippled when he wielded the ax. His cologne, which smelled of bergamot and rosemary, wafted over her as they danced.

His bright blue eyes stared back so intensely, it made her heart flutter like the wings of some great bird trapped inside her chest. She was powerfully aware of his nearness and the feel of his hand on her waist and the other clasping hers, the hardness of his jaw and fierceness in his eye when he’d forced Curtis to let her choose between them. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her face since.

When the song ended, it came almost as a shock, the time went by so fast.

As the other dancers slowly moved away, she and Truett simply stood still. Finally, he asked, “Would you like to dance the next one?”

“Yes.” She sounded out of breath, though the waltz had not tired her at all.

She couldn’t stop staring as images of him went through her mind—of him jumping onto the wheel of the wagon to lift Will out, of him crashing into Griff to stop him from hitting his mother, of him reciting poetry the day he drove her home. What had she called him?Truett Shakespeare.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.