A Calculated Romance (5 page)

"Ireland, how long have you worked for Kate?" Douglas asked, changing the subject.

"Just a couple of months, and I really enjoy it," Landi said with enthusiasm.

"I hear you grew up out in the Mojave desert.  What brought you to LA?"  Douglas focused on the shy girl, trying to draw her out.

"Opportunity," she answered with mock cheer, using her canned response.

"I think the desert has a beauty all its own.  I camp out there with my buddies a couple of times a year.  Do you miss the solitude of it?" the groom's cousin asked, leaning in towards the girl.

Kiki looked at Landi, interested in her response.  Growing up in Hawaii, she didn't care much for the California desert.  Ireland glanced at James, noticing the hard line of his mouth and jaw. 
He
glared suspiciously at Douglas.

"I miss the quiet sometimes," she answered, then averted her eyes.  The atmosphere in the vehicle had changed, making her uncomfortable, and she wanted the attention to shift from her to someone else.

"Where exactly did you grow up?" Douglas pressed, oblivious to the girl's discomfort.

"Cadiz," she murmured, shooting Kiki a quick
help me
expression.

"I've never been.  We should make plans to spend the day out there.  I'd love for you to show me the area."  Douglas seemed enthusiastic about spending time with Ireland.

"Well,"  James said, taking charge, "it's not on the road signs anymore.  Since they made the place part of the Mojave Preserve, the government doesn't encourage people to explore.  In the 1970s, every rock hound knew about Cadiz.  Douglas, where else do you like to camp?" 

Jim's research came in handy, shutting down the man's line of inquiry.  His gut tightened again with an unfamiliar negative emotion.  He took a dislike to Robert's cousin.  Then, he deftly moved the topic away from Landi.  The girl gave him an appreciative smile as Doug discussed his favorite spots in the eastern Sierra.  Her sweet face eased the pain in his stomach—a little.  The conversation drifted to skiing at Mamoth, a favorite winter resort for Los Angelinos.

While the maid of honor and the groom's cousin chatted on, Ireland began to relax.  She enjoyed the gentle wind that cooled her face and the way the sunlight filtered through the shimmering dark green, waxy leaves in the trees above their car.  She didn't notice how James scrutinized every facial twitch and reflex in her countenance.  At last, the newlyweds appeared, glowing with joy, and the caravan of expensive, vintage vehicles headed towards the reception at the Fairmont.

The sight of guests enjoying cocktails around the pool in the hotel's courtyard met the wedding party upon arrival.  A cold ocean breeze drove Landi to the nearest space heater, a tall tower with a large metal shade that directed warmth down from its glowing implement. 

"I thought you might enjoy this," James said, handing the girl a glass. 

She lifted an eyebrow in his direction.

"Don't worry, it's a lemon-lime soda with some grenadine and mint syrup added for good measure—my own creation, made just for you."

"Thank you," she said, taking a sip.  "It's delicious," she added.

"After the other night, I realize you really can't handle your liquor, so I instructed the bartender to mix this," he said with a laugh.

She laughed too, noticing his glass contained the same bubbling liquid as her own. 

"That was very thoughtful," she said, smiling.  She watched as Jim's eyes shifted from her own to something or someone behind her.  His friendly expression changed to granite as she felt someone brush against her.

"Hey there!  We'll be moving to the ballroom soon."  He addressed his greeting and comment to both of them, then turned towards Landi.  "I hope you'll save me a few dances after dinner," Douglas said in a chipper voice, his smile revealing an adorable space between his two upper front teeth.

She noticed his large, brown, twinkling eyes and happy spirit.  His wavy, light brown hair and roman nose hinted at an Italian heritage.  Ireland raked her eyes over his lips and down to the cleft in his chin.  He squeezed her arm in an affectionate manner.  She couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from spreading into a grin.

"Thank you, Douglas.  That would be nice," she replied.

"Great," he said before squeezing her again and heading off, allowing his hand to slide over her arm as he left.

Landi turned back to James, who watched the departing man recede into the crowd.  Her smile fell as she observed the hard line of his lips, the throb of a pulse at the back of his tense jaw, and dark scowl.  A shiver ran up her spine.

"Are you cold?" he said, his voice filled with steel.

He still stared after Douglas.  The edge to his tone frightened her.

How on earth did he notice my shiver without looking at me?

"A little," she murmured.

"Please, allow me," he said, flashing her that devilishly handsome grin and removing his tuxedo jacket.

His entire demeanor changed on a dime, setting off warning signals in Landi.  She wanted to run but stayed, almost against her will, glued to the spot.  The sight of James taking off his coat transfixed her.  She watched as his wide shoulders and large arms emerged from the black jacket.  His starched white shirt stretched tight across his muscular torso as he pulled the garment off and slung it over his shoulder.  When he straightened and tugged on his cuffs, the true size of his biceps and forearms became evident.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he moved behind her, and she swallowed hard, unable to bolt as she wished.  She felt every nerve ending in her body stand at attention as he placed his coat on her shoulders and whispered in her ear.

"There, that's better," he said, his breath grazing the nape of her neck.

But James wasn't finished.  He wrapped his arms around the girl and pulled her gently against him.  She felt his muscles tense against her back.

"Better still," he growled in a low tone only she could hear.

She felt the heat of a blush run up her neck and carpet her face.  She hoped he couldn't feel or hear her heart, which pounded against her rib cage.  Ireland attempted to slow her breathing and regain her composure.  What if someone saw them like this?  She hadn't been held since before things went bad between her and Rick.

"It's all right, Landi," James whispered, sensing her nerves.

He'd placed his head over hers and rested his chin atop her updo.  She felt good tucked beneath him, enveloped in his arms.  She didn't respond to his comment, still struggling with maintaining her composure.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he added, his voice a low rumble.

He tightened his arms about her waist, pulling her closer against his body.

He continued, "I can feel your tension, but you're safe with me.  I promise."

Somehow, she believed him.  His deep, masculine tone reassured her, and she allowed herself to relax.  Melting against his body, she enjoyed the warmth and the secure touch of his rock hard muscles.  Trapped within the steel bands of his arms, she felt protected.  She closed her eyes, forgetting all about Rick. 

Someone made an announcement about dinner.  James guided her to the ballroom, where the wedding party waited in the hallway to be announced.  This part had not been included in the rehearsal.

"What's going on?" she asked Jim, panic in her voice.

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's no biggie.  They call our names and we walk in, all smiles, wave to everyone, and sit down.  Once we're all seated, they'll announce the bride and groom.  We clap, and dinner is served."  He paused and brushed a stray curl from her face.  "You've never been in a wedding, have you?" he added, more a statement than a question.

Sensing no ridicule or shock in his comment, she answered, "No," but still dropped her eyes by force of habit.

James grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her towards him, trapping her in an embrace.  He held her face against his chest and resisted the urge to run his fingers through her hair, remembering that the impressive updo needed to be preserved until all photographs had been taken.

"Do you know how exquisite you are, Ireland?" he whispered.

"Miss Ireland Lincoln and Mr. James Crimshaw," a voice boomed from a microphone.

He took her hand, smiled, and said, "Show time!" then pulled her towards the ballroom.

"Mr. James Crimshaw is the brother of the bride, a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, Navy Officer, and world traveler.  Miss Ireland Lincoln is the friend of the bride, hails from Cadiz, California, and is pursuing a career in gemology.  Please welcome Jim and Landi!" the mistress of ceremony yelled, as if announcing a goal in a South American soccer match.

The girl cringed at the mention of Cadiz.  At that moment, James squeezed her hand, hard.  Did he sense she wanted to leave her past behind?  She looked at him, questioning, but he returned her gaze with an innocent smile and led her to the large table prepared for the wedding party as guests cheered.

The rest of their group filtered in, followed by the happy couple.  The best man made a toast, and although she raised her champagne flute, Ireland chose to take a sip of water instead of alcohol.  The minister said grace and pronounced a blessing on the newlyweds.  Salads and bread appeared, and she tucked in, hungry from the strain of the day.  Beef Wellington followed, accompanied by delicious sautéed green beans.  Waiters poured white wine with the first course, and red with the second.  She allowed herself a sip of each, not wanting to fall asleep in her chair again.  James did the same.  More toasts followed before the jazz quartet gave way to a DJ.

The announcer called Katrina and Robert to the floor for their first dance. 
I Only Have Eyes for You
played as everyone watched.  No one doubted the couple was a match made in heaven.  As the song dissolved into Lionel Richie's
Hello
, the DJ asked for the wedding party to join the bride and groom. 

James guided Landi to the dance floor and took her in his arms.  She placed her hands on his shoulders, like he'd taught her the other night, then slid them around his neck.  Unlike his actions at Sinclair's, he kept a distance between them now.  She couldn't help feeling some rejection.  Instead of placing both hands on her hips, he slid one to her back.  Whenever he wanted to change directions, he signaled her by applying pressure there.  He caressed her skin, slowly moving his hand lower along her spine.  Her back tingled, and every nerve in her body tensed as he moved his large, rough fingers up and down.

Landi swallowed and took a deep breath.  Jim pulled her a tad closer and removed his hand from her waist and placed it beneath her face, tilting her chin so their eyes met.  He dropped his gaze to her lips, then back to her eyes.  The song segued into an instrumental version of
Europa
.

"Landi, I—"

"Mind if I cut in?" Douglas tapped James on the shoulder and tried to move between the couple.  His effervescent voice made him appear harmless.

Jim tightened his grip on Landi before releasing her to the other man with a shrug.  She glimpsed a dark expression pass over his face before he walked away.

"I think he's taking his role as your escort a bit too seriously," Doug said between chuckles.  "Possessive fellow, isn't he?"

"He's been nice to me," she said in a serious tone, fighting the notion that dancing with Robert's cousin somehow betrayed Jim.

Landi kept her hands on his shoulders and retreated, putting more distance between them.  The man just tightened his grip on her waist and smiled a disarming toothy grin.

"I'm sure he has.  Ireland, you're easy to be kind to.  You're sweet, beautiful,
and
humble.  I may have to monopolize you the rest of the evening."  He beamed down at her.  "I don't intend to dance with my sister, Kiki's being dominated by that big cowboy whom I don't dare tangle with, and Sue—well, Sue's too much for me to handle."

He dipped his head and whispered the last part in her ear, evoking a laugh from the girl at last.  Mission accomplished, a satisfied expression spread across his attractive face.  He pulled Landi closer, causing her to giggle.  They didn't notice James glaring at them from across the room.

The song finished, and 1940's big band music boomed from the speakers.  Doug grabbed Landi's hand and spun her an arm's length from him before yanking her back against his side with another twirl.  The slick soles of her new shoes allowed for the smooth maneuver.  The girl's jaw dropped, and she gasped for air.

"I—I don't know how to dance, Doug, please—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he'd rotated around her, looping one of her arms over his shoulders.

"Hang on, Sweetheart," he said before repositioning her hands and whirling around at a speed that caused her feet to leave the ground.

Apparently, Douglas LaSalla was an expert swing dancer.  Landi clung to him for dear life.

"Now, I'm going to reel you out again," he said through clinched teeth, like a ventriloquist.

The man twirled her an arm's length, then back to his side, before turning her body and dipping her backwards.  She could swear her head missed the wood floor by an inch.  Before she knew what was happening, he'd lifted her in the air, instructing her to place her hands on his shoulders.  Somehow, he swung her through his legs, then back into an upright position.  He grasped both her hands in his own, yanked her to his chest, and spun around, stepping back and forth to the rhythm of
In The Mood
.  With one hand at the small of her back, Doug managed to guide her in the dance, and she caught on to the easy, repetitive part quickly.  One last rotation out and in, with a big dip over his arm as a finish, and the dance was over.