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I guess, although I don’t think shutting yourself off to the entire possibility of romantic destiny is the way to go about it. But still, I keep my thoughts to myself. He’s sharing. Now is not the time to judge.
“So, I’m a hell of a wedding date tonight, huh?” he asks, scrubbing one hand over his face. “God. The outfit, the sad bastard curveball. What a treat for you.”
“I don’t mind,” I reply, and I don’t. I mean, sure, I could have done without the surprise, ‘I’m divorced!’ revelations, but at the end of the day, this is still Charlie. Still the guy with the annoyingly heart-stopping smile.
Still the sworn bachelor I should stay away from.
If he wasn’t so damn sexy.
He gets to his feet. “I hear my song playing.”
I pause, listening to the music from the party. “I’m pretty sure that’s a guy on a lute playing “The Thong Song’’.”
“Exactly.” Charlie flashes me a grin. “Who could resist?”
Not me.
I follow him to the dance floor, and we’re soon swept up in the celebrations. Charlie throws down with the best of them, and I can’t help dancing along, laughing at his expression as he and his buddies bust out some cheesy boyband moves. Soon, it’s like our D-I-V-O-R-C-E conversation never happened.
The music shifts, and I pause. “Is that… ?”
“A medieval rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”?” Charlie smirks. “Why yes, yes it is.”
I have to laugh. “It’s a good thing they didn’t play this at the boat wedding,” I murmur, as he draws me into his arms for a slow dance.
“You mean, you would have shoved me off your raft?”
“Never.” I grin. “There was room for them both on there!”
He pulls me closer, and I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and that intoxicating scent of him roll slowly over my senses. Damn, it feels good, and just like that, I’m reminded of our adventures back at the tent.
Adventures that were cruelly cut short by the wedding.
Adventures we could pick up anytime we choose to leave the party…
The past is the past, I tell myself, relaxing into his arms. Ancient history. We all have romantic skeletons buried in our closets, and besides, it doesn’t change anything about me and Charlie.
He’s not looking for serious. And, God help me, all I care about tonight is how seriously turned on I am. The preview I got earlier is more than enough to show me a night with Charlie Fox would be unforgettable, in all the best ways.
Is it really so bad if I throw caution—and my granny panties—to the wind, and give in to the reckless chemistry?
After everything I’ve been through this past year, don’t I deserve some mindlessly sexy, wildly sizzling, unbelievably seductive fun?
I think so. And I think Charlie is exactly the guy to give it to me.
I pull away enough to smile at him. “You know, I’m beat,” I say, faking a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”
“You want to get to sleep?” Charlie asks, looking disappointed.
I smile again, flirty. “No, but I do want to get to bed…”
He gets it.
“You know, I am feeling pretty worn out myself.” He stretches, and then drapes an arm around my shoulder. “We should hit the hay.”
Or tumble in it. But either way, I’m loving the feel of his arm around my shoulder as he bids his friends good night, and steers me through the grounds back to our tent. My anticipation grows.
The entire day—hell, the past couple of weddings—have all felt like slow motion foreplay. I’m practically trembling.
