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Kate spins around and hugs me tight, breaking the spell. “Now we’re truly sisters!”
She takes her bouquet and links her arm through Arthur’s. They make their way back down the aisle, greeting their guests and smiling while the quartet plays an uplifting tune.
Rob closes the gap between us and offers his arm. “May I escort you to the reception?”
My throat closes. “I...need to take care of something first.” Brushing past him, I head for the elevator.
My heart pounds as I press the button for the ground floor. I lied. The only thing I need is to put some distance between Rob and me.
My hand rests against my chest; I will my heart to stop racing. What the hell just happened? One minute I’m at my brother’s wedding, and the next, I’m tangled in some staring contest with Rob.
No. It was more than that. The intensity of his gaze remains firmly fixed in my mind. There was no mask. No hiding the hunger I saw in the depths of his eyes. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. That single-minded determination, open and bare for all the world to see. Has it always been there?
The car reaches the ground floor, and I hail a cab. During the ride to the restaurant, my mind spins.
After the way he reacted at dinner last night, I thought Rob had finally had enough of my sarcasm and biting wit. I didn’t expect a resolution—or even an apology. But when he abandoned us so quickly, I had the distinct impression he wanted to be as far from me as possible.
The way he looked at me during the ceremony, though, told me there is something else going on. I swallow and lean my head back against the seat. Do I even want to know what it is?
Uncertainty curls inside me, and I wonder if I could possibly get away with skipping the reception altogether.
No. Arthur and Kate would be disappointed. Besides, they’re leaving right after the reception. Their bags are packed and their flight leaves tonight.
The car pulls up to the restaurant. I manage to keep my composure as I go into the building and find the small ballroom reserved for their reception. The decorations are minimalistic but lovely. I admire the pink-tipped orange roses and white calla lilies nestled in dark green ferns in the crystal vases on each table. A banner hangs across the bride and groom’s table. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell.
My heart takes another hit. I might have to see a doctor after this. Rob? No. I pinch my eyes closed. I most certainly do not need to see that doctor.
I make my way to the ladies’ powder room, where I collapse on a velvet-cushioned lounge chair. What the hell am I doing here? This is supposed to be their special day, and I’m having a full-on heart attack.
The time alone gives me a chance to collect my thoughts.
I can do this. It’s only for a few hours, then I can go home and get back to business as usual. No problem. I just have to avoid Rob until then. Easy.
Gladys, Victor and his wife, and a few other guests have arrived by the time I return to the ballroom. Kate and Arthur enter, and I’m struck by how perfect they are for each other.
I find a seat at a table near a huge potted plant, far from the commotion. With such an intimate affair, it’s difficult to blend into the crowd. Kate waves when she spots me. I wave back.
Where’s the bar? I scan the room and frown when Rob appears at the entrance. As if drawn by a freakishly large magnet, his gaze homes in, directly on me. Fuck.
I shift uncomfortably, wishing I could dissolve into the carpet.
The familiar strains of REO Speedwagon filter over the speakers. Shit. It’s my favorite song. Kate and Arthur are on the dance floor, swaying in time to the ballad.
Rob crosses the floor, his gaze riveted on me like I’m the only person in the room. He offers his hand. “Dance with me? Please.”
“Fine.” The word slips from my traitorous mouth.
Then it’s too late. Rob takes my hand and leads me toward the dance floor.
My body thrums with need at his touch. When he rests his palm on my waist, I bite my lip. His warm hand engulfs mine as our movements fall in time with the music. I’ve never danced with Rob before. I imagined it once, long ago, when I was a naive teenager.
But I’m not a teenager or naive anymore.
He pulls me closer, and I stifle a moan before it betrays me.
“Marcy.” His warm breath brushes my cheek.
I try to focus on anything but him, knowing if I meet his eyes, I won’t be able to hide the desire burning inside me. “What?”
