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“But—” She blushed and bit back all the angry words that wanted to leap to her tongue. What satisfaction would she get out of ruining his day or his bride’s party? “Okay,” she finally acquiesced. “Why not?”
Brynnie was already dancing with one of her twin sons, Nathan or Trevor McBaine, Tiffany didn’t know which. Jarrod had found Patty Lafferty, Mason’s willowy sister, and Bliss was molded to her fiancé. Stiffly Tiffany took the floor, feeling self-conscious and out of place. Unlike Bliss, she hadn’t been trained in dance, but she’d grown up with music, through all the years her mother had taught piano. Rose Nesbitt would die, would absolutely have a heart attack, if she suspected that Tiffany was turning coat and waltzing with the enemy.
“I’m glad you came,” John said as he maneuvered her past Bliss and Mason. “I really didn’t expect you to.”
“It—it wasn’t planned.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He grinned down at her, and she felt like a heel, not that she had any right to her ridiculous emotions. She couldn’t forget how he’d ignored her growing up, neglected her for over thirty lonely years.
“I came because I’m looking for Stephen.”
“He didn’t come with you?”
She shook her head, stepped on his toe and wished the damned song would end. “He’s missing. Been gone a couple of hours. J.D. thought he might have come here.”
She felt her father tense, his muscles stiffen, his hand tighten around hers. “But I saw him earlier.”
“Here?”
“Yes.” He looked instantly confused. “I mean, I think I did. It was either here or at the wedding. I know because I recognized him and spoke with him. I asked about you, but he was evasive.”
There was no way to avoid the truth, no reason for Tiffany to lie. “He, uh, attended behind my back. Lied about it. Said he was going swimming with a friend.”
“I see,” her father said, and a wounded look crossed his eyes. “Well, I guess I can’t blame you for how you feel.” He sighed audibly, and his shoulders slumped a little. “What is it they say, ‘Time heals all wounds’?”
“Or wounds all heels,” she said automatically, then wished she could call the words back when she noticed his lips flattening over his teeth.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here, Tiffany, no matter what the reason. Don’t worry about Stephen. He’s here somewhere, I’m sure of it. Enjoy the reception.”
“Switch,” the bandleader called out just as the tempo of the music changed. Her father released her. She turned and walked quickly off the dance floor just as she recognized the first strains of “And I Love Her,” an old Beatles tune.
She ran smack-dab into J.D. “Found him,” he said, cocking his head in the direction of the stables. A few boys had gathered in the shadows, perched on the fence rail like birds on a telephone wire. “Stephen’s over there,” he said, and when Tiffany started to bolt toward the group, J.D. held her hand. “Let him be, Tiff. I already talked to him and gave him the lecture of his life about scaring you the way he did. He knows you’re going to tear into him, so wait a few minutes. Let what I said sink into his brain and allow him to sweat about what you’ll do to him. Then you can go for it.”
Her knees went weak with relief. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”
“But he did lie and sneak around.”
“I know. I’ll deal with it. Believe me.”
“Later.” J.D. manacled her wrist in his strong fingers and pulled her back to the dance floor. “Right now, let’s indulge ourselves.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I think I disgraced myself enough for one night.”
“Not yet,” he said, propelling her to a space on the rapidly shrinking floor. “There are hours and hours yet for you to really make a fool of yourself.”
&nbs
p; She giggled despite herself. “Flatterer.” With a smile, she added, “Hey, don’t I get a say in this? Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be looking for a new partner?”
“You found him,” he replied and his expression was so intense that her breath got lost somewhere in her lungs. For a heartbeat the sounds of the reception faded, the lights and music blurred, and she fought against the feeling that they were alone and intimate. He tugged on her hand, pulled her tightly into his embrace and sighed against her hair. “Isn’t this better?”
“Much,” she admitted, though she didn’t want to think about the consequences of pressing her body to his, of swaying to the music in the evening-dark night. Other couples danced around them. John had found his youngest daughter, and Katie, in peach silk, was beaming up at him as she danced. Brynnie had, presumably, chosen the second of her twins to dance with, though Tiffany wasn’t sure. For all she knew, Brynnie could have been dancing with the same brother. Mason and Bliss had found new partners, but their gazes sought each other continuously.
For a few wonderful minutes, Tiffany closed her eyes, rested her head against J.D.’s chest and lost herself in the feel of his body, so long and lean and possessive. The scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils, and she heard the beating of his heart, comforting and steady.
Why was it that being in his arms felt so right when she knew deep in her heart it was wrong? Why did his touch thrill her as no one else’s had? There had been men who had tried to date her when she’d moved to Bittersweet. A widowed rancher with a hundred-acre spread bordering Cougar Creek and three half-grown daughters had shown interest, and a divorced insurance adjuster who lived in Medford had called a few times. She hadn’t responded to either. She’d been grieving, trying to get over the guilt surrounding the accident that had taken Philip’s life, while attempting to keep her small family intact. She hadn’t had time for a relationship of any kind; but with J.D., her silly heart wanted to make an exception. The touch of his splayed fingers against the small of her back was erotic, even through her blouse; the sensation of his breath fanning her hair made her tingle.
What was wrong with her? This was J.D. Santini, for crying out loud. Her brother-in-law. A man she was no more sure of than sand shifting beneath her feet.
