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“Get your arse back in the circle, Mick,” Lawson instructed over the mic, jerking a thumb at him.
No sign of Zeta. No sign at—
Mick sucked in a sharp breath.
There she was. She was hurrying through the room’s massive sliding glass doors leading out to the resort and beach and night beyond. She stopped and shot a look over her shoulder back into the reception and then she was gone into the night beyond.
“Mick!” Owen shouted with a laugh. “Get back in the circle and stop hogging all the attention.”
Mick hurried back into the circle and took Elisa’s offered hand. “Where’s Zeta gone?”
“She got a phone call from her work,” Elisa answered, a slight frown on her face. “Something about one of the cheetah cubs.”
“Cheetah cubs?”
Before Elisa could respond, Lawson restarted the tarantella, and this time, Mick went the right way.
Just.
The raucous dance—all the guests ringing the happy couple clockwise and then counter-clockwise, cheering their marriage and their future together—kept his mind off Zeta.
Also just.
Well, not really. He kept looking over his shoulder every time his part of the circle neared the doors leading out of the venue and to the beach.
No sign of Zeta.
Which, given it was her sister they were doing the tarantella for, was worrying. He knew how close the triplets were, and none of them would miss something like this unless something was wrong.
He shot Elisa a glance.
Yeah, that was definitely a concerned lip chew right there. She was still dancing, but her expression told him she was also worried about Zeta’s absence.
Are you sure? Or are you just looking for an excuse to go find Zeta?
A boisteroushoorayalmost split the air, and suddenly his hands were free, and everyone was clapping.
He blinked. The tarantella was done? Finished?
In the middle of the dance floor, Owen and Bria marked the moment with a kiss far more passionate than was accepted in polite circles. There was more cheering, more clapping. It was the perfect cover to take off and find Zeta. Make certain she was okay. And not abducted by a serial killer or fighting a deadly rip in the dark surf.
He bit back a grunt at his own melodramatic and obviously woeful reasoning and took off. Heading straight out the doors and into the dark night. Looking for Zeta. Just in case she was in trouble.
Yeah, right. You want to kiss her again.
He did.
That and so much more.
Bloody annoying American.
5
Slipping her phone back into the small pocket of her dress—God love Bria forever for demanding pockets in her bridesmaid dresses—Zeta scowled at the waves crashing on the sand under the moonlight.
Tendrils of thick clouds creeped across the white ball, mirroring the turbulence of her thoughts.
Mandla, the littlest cheetah kitten, wasn’t feeding as often as he should. And Noxolo, his mom, had occasionally started to reject him.
