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She studied him and then nodded. “But it’s okay. I can handle you.”
His gaze met hers and held, the air around them suddenly taut, electric. This was exactly what happened in August. This same heat, this same intensity. It took everything in her to turn away when her heart was racing and her head felt dizzy. “Seems like a good time to call it a night,” she said huskily, before climbing the stairs to her room.
Chapter Three
Upstairs in herroom, Ella leaned against the door, pulse still thudding, desire still flooding her.
For months, she’d managed to suppress the memory of how strongly she’d reacted to him when they met in August.
She’d forgotten how intense her response to him had been. But now, face-to-face with the desire, the memories came flooding back. Meeting him had turned her inside out. Within minutes—seconds—of meeting Baird, Ella felt undone.
She was no longer the disciplined grad student who kept her classes enthralled with her passion for literature, and the women who wrote those books. She had dissolved into a breathless, hapless, painfully self-conscious creature, exactly the kind of women Ella despised because women were meant to be strong, and self-sufficient. Women were meant to lead and inspire, not melt around men. But Baird was not your run of the mill man. He wasn’t American, or comfortable, or endearingly familiar. He was a cross between Gerard Butler, a young Russell Crowe, with a hefty measure ofOutlanderstar, Sam Heughan, thrown in. In short, Baird was perfect.
His effect on her was immediate and telling, and she didn’t know if it was because he was tall—easily six-three—and muscular, like a rugby player. Or if it was because he was articulate and confident, a man who’d attended the best schools in Britain and was rumored to be a ruthless attorney with more clients and cases than time.
Ella was not as worldly. A brainy book girl from Bellingham, Washington, she’d always loved books by female writers, stories popular amongst women. She didn’t really care if men read her favorite authors. She didn’t care if her favorite authors’ books were heavy on marriage, and family. She liked that they featured happy endings, liked that romance had happy endings. She liked them so much she chose to study them as an undergrad and then as her PhD.
But Baird… Baird knocked her out of her cozy female realm into unfamiliar territory. She’d dated, she’d had boyfriends, but none of them were men like Baird.
The first night at the Friday Harbor resort had been just family and the wedding party—Cara, Alec, Ella the bridesmaid, and Alec’s best man, Baird MacLauren.
Cara had mentioned Baird to Ella, saying he lived and worked in Edinburgh, and was an attorney. Cara failed to mention Baird was gorgeous and had the sexiest accent. Ella tried to play it cool the first few days, unwilling to smile too much in his direction, not wanting him to think she was flirting with him, and it seemed to work. They successfully avoided each other Thursday, too.
But Friday was the rehearsal and then the rehearsal dinner, two things they would be together for, and Ella pretended to be oblivious of Baird as more guests arrived and Alec introduced Baird to others. But when she looked for him at one point, she discovered he was watching her. She didn’t look away, either. She couldn’t. Something silent passed between them, a moment she couldn’t articulate, but it was real and intense and unnerving.
That was the beginning, and the awareness only grew, heat and sparks flaring, the energy palpable. They barely interacted until the wedding rehearsal, and it wasn’t until the wedding planner instructed them to face each other in the chapel and then meet in the middle of the aisle where Ella was to take his arm and they’d walk out together right behind the bride and groom.
“Closer, sister of the bride,” the harried event planner called out. “And smile. This is a joyous occasion, not a funeral.”
Everyone laughed but Ella didn’t. Baird didn’t, either. Instead, he tucked her hand more firmly in the crook of his arm. “I won’t bite you, lass,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t think you would,” she answered unsteadily, hoping he couldn’t tell how hard her heart was pounding. She didn’t know why he did this to her. She didn’t understand this connection.
“Then why so shy?” he asked as they exited the chapel into the late afternoon sunlight.
She looked up into his face and their eyes met, the sun reflecting in his irises. His eyes weren’t just light brown, they were brown with bits of gold and silver, but mostly gold, and Ella couldn’t look away. She felt lost, alien to herself.
“I should go help Cara,” she said, slipping her hand from his arm. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”
She practically ran from him, desperate to escape, but as she hid in her hotel room trying to gather herself, she couldn’t shake the sensation that she was burning. His touch, just his hand on hers had made her tingle, and pleasure still hummed in her. What on earth was happening?
Dinner that evening was even more problematic. She and Baird had been seated together at the same table, and the table was small and crowded, and Baird was close to her side. His shoulder periodically brushed hers, his thigh frequently touched hers, his body emanating heat that seeped into her.
All evening she tried to avoid looking into his eyes because they scorched her. She sat feeling naked, exposed, yearning for things that Ella Roberts did not yearn for. Ella Roberts did not yearn, and yet…
The tension ratchetted up all evening, and it was a relief to just go to bed. The wedding was the next day, and by the time she walked out of the chapel on Baird’s arm, she was just so glad the wedding was over. She wanted the tension gone. She wanted to know how he kissed and if the kiss would deliver on the promise of the heat sizzling between them. She needed to kiss him to know. She almost hoped she’d be disappointed by the kiss, that in his arms she felt nothing. That his mouth on hers just left her cold.
During the reception, they had to dance together, and when Baird took her in his arms and drew her against him, she shuddered and he felt it, his eyes locking with hers, her body tingling from head to toe. When his hand settled in the small of her back she could barely breathe. Her body knew him. Her body recognized something in him, and she felt as if she was falling, falling into him. They moved on the dance floor, the music all around them, but she heard nothing, saw nothing but Baird.
Light gold eyes, dark thick hair, striking cheekbones and that firm mouth, a mouth she wanted to kiss.
The dance ended and conversation swirled around her, but she couldn’t focus on it, not when Baird remained at her side, his hand light on her back, his fingertips warm, stirring something deep inside of her, making her hot, making her his.
Her parents came over and they were talking about the beautiful night and cake and wasn’t everything so wonderful?
She nodded and said something appropriate. Then Baird said something appropriate. Her parents moved on, and the next second Baird took her hand and led her from the ballroom. They walked outside into the night, the white moon full, stars brilliant overhead. They passed guests, they turned a corner, and then another, walking down toward the water, and there, at the boathouse, his mouth found hers and it was everything she’d hoped and feared, everything she needed. Craved.
Him. She craved him.
