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His handsome face immediately lit back up into a grin. “Good. Can I keep calling you Cecelia, then? At least out of the office?”
My face felt hot, but I was nodding before he even finished his question. Because honestly, if that man kept talking like that, he could call me whatever he wanted. My lips twisted at the strange path this evening had taken.
“I am curious. How often do you plan on seeing me out of the office?”
Brady shrugged. “I guess that’s up to you now, eh?”
I fanned myself dramatically. “Whew. You really brought the heat to cocktail hour.”
“My apologies,” Brady said without an ounce of conviction.
“Don’t apologize.” I let out a shuddering sigh. “Not yet.” I took the final drink of my cocktail and set the glass aside.
Brady shifted closer, the warmth of his breath brushing over me. Goosebumps skittered across my bare arms. “What now?”
I resisted the urge to rub my arms or, even more tempting, to step closer to him and let his heat consume me entirely. “Do you dance?”
“I’ve got a little Latin blood in my system that claims I can,” Brady said.
“Well, now I’m intimidated.”
“Don’t be.” His hand was in mine again, tugging me gently towards the small group of people who were dancing in front of the band that had started up. Standing there, I was suddenly very aware of how high my heels were and the fact that my perfect black dress was a little shorter than I usually went for.
I couldn't change that now. And if the Macklens were embarrassed about their new in-laws, that ship had already sailed. As Brady pulled me closer, I caught Ashlyn’s gaze over his shoulder. She grinned, giving me a happy, fluttering little wave. I smiled in response. She was so happy. For not the first time, my throat swelled and a battle of jealousy and sadness rose in my belly.
“Are you alright?”
Was I? Ashlyn was practically my sister. We had grown up thick as thieves. We were running Grove Communications together. But with this engagement, this marriage, it all felt suddenly like for the first time, I was being left behind.
Cici Grove was not someone who got left behind.
“I’m fine. I just don’t dance in these heels very often.” I settled one hand on Brady’s shoulder, shifting slightly to show off the strappy black monsters.
He raised a brow. “Are they worth it?” His hand dropped to my shoulder and then my waist as he drew me in against his body. His bright white shirt underneath the blue of his suit stood out like snow against his swarthy throat.
I cocked my head, savoring the tingling sensation my skin buzzed with as his hand ran over my body with a familiarity that set my nerves tingling. “You tell me.”
Brady grinned, his mouth so close to mine. “Nothing is ever worth the pain. But you do look perfect from top to bottom.”
“Ah, that’s the right answer,” I whispered against his jaw, leaning into his touch. He felt good. I couldn’t see much through his suit, but now that I was against him, I could feel the subtle pull and bunch of muscles under his skin. I nibbled on my lips as his feet began to move, ever so slightly.
“Dance with me, Cecelia,” he murmured, his mouth close to my ear.
I shivered at the touch of his lips but relaxed my hips and allowed my body begin to sway with his, letting him lead me across the dance floor. The threat of embarrassment slowly slipped away as I fell into a rhythm with him.
When the next song came on, I didn’t even bother trying to pull away. This one was faster, and Brady took the opportunity to draw me in closer. Close enough I could feel the heat of his thigh against and between mine. I gasped, darting a look up at Brady, who was acting totally unaffected, his gaze looking between me and the rest of the dancers as he led us expertly across the floor.
“You’re good at this.”
“I was a late bloomer. This was the only way I could think of to sweep the ladies off their feet.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding. You’re…you…” I trailed off, jerking my chin at his shoulders. The man was taller than me, maybe six feet flat. His dark curls were neatly barbered above a face that was handsome, the high cheekbones and five o’clock shadow giving him a cut, almost angular look. I squeezed my hands into his shoulders and felt only muscle and tailored suit between my hands and his body.
There was no way this man was a late bloomer.
“Trust me. I had to break into my parents place and burn all my high school pictures before I bought my first serious girlfriend home.”
I snorted. “Did it work?”
