Two-Step Temptation (4 page)

Like that would happen with the orange-sherbet-colored dresses they’d be wearing. Haven forced a smile. Colleen slid half a spoonful of fruit onto her plate and returned to the table.

“Thank you for not being like that,” Eric said.

“Like what?”

He pointed to Colleen’s retreating back with a serving spoon. “You eat. I like a woman who eats.” He dropped a serving of eggs onto her plate.

Warmth slid through Haven before she recognized it, and she squashed the feeling like a bug. “So do you really play golf?”

“Had to learn so I could schmooze people to get funding. I get more funding during a golf game than from a grant.”

“That’s sad.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Fact of life.”

“And now? Are you here going after more funding?”

“Not this time,” he said. “Biscuit?”

She had a feeling he was holding back, but she didn’t know how to push for information. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

Haven lined up with the other bridesmaids on the balcony overlooking the wedding venue as the strains of a Vivaldi piece floated through the room. Eric and his fellow groomsmen flanked Jared at the altar. Damn, Eric looked fine in a tux, his broad shoulders accented by the jacket that skimmed his lean form. Something about the silk cravat made her want to rip it off and bare the muscled chest beneath.

As she expected, a smirk played on his lips, but something else burned in his eyes. God help her, she knew that look, and it sent a heat through her own body, a remembered pulse of desire that made her stumble, just a bit, in her high heels. The glint of humor in his eyes told her he knew what she was thinking.

Damn him. Her panties were damp from one glance.

Sure her cheeks were pink, she looked away. She aimed a smile at Christine’s mom and moved up to take her place at the altar. Good. Eric was out of view. She turned to watch the rest of the procession, and though she had seen Christine in her regalia upstairs, she still caught her breath when her friend descended the stairs, white beaded dress billowing about her. Unlike Haven, the bride met the eyes of her love directly.

What would it be like to love someone with all one’s being, to trust so completely, to give as big a part of herself to someone? She doubted she could ever give up that much control to find out. She certainly hadn’t with Eric, even though she’d shared more with him than with any other man.

Jared brought Christine to the altar with him, as the two exchanged vows. Her heart, already swelling with romantic notions, kicked hard against her ribs when she met Eric for the recessional, as she looked into his ice-blue eyes. Her emotions were too close to the surface, and she certainly couldn’t allow him to see them, so she averted her gaze as she tucked her arm through his. She found herself grateful for the layers of clothing, clinging to that to keep their distance, though he had to be able to feel her stuttering pulse.

She kept her focus ahead as they strolled down the aisle, and the moment they reached the foyer, she dropped his arm and moved to congratulate her friends with hugs.

She managed to keep her distance from Eric through the endless photographs, but remained on the edges of conversations, focusing on where he was so he wouldn’t sneak up on her.

Jill waylaid her to talk about the cake-cutting duties, and Haven lost her Eric-antenna.

By the time Jill walked away to boss someone else around, he came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder, plucking at the slender strap of her dress. “What’d you do to piss Christine off?”

She’d forgotten her defenses and laughed despite herself, leaning toward him, her body following its own agenda.

“I’ve been asking myself that for weeks.”

He stroked a finger down the silky fabric and the way his gaze followed the caress made her nipples hard.

“Don’t.” She gritted her teeth, using all her control not to move away. “Not here.”

Frustration darkened his eyes, but he nodded and stepped back to offer his arm to guide her into the reception hall.

The wedding party was seated at the front of the room at a long table, windows at their backs looking out over the Pedernales River, the paired bridesmaids and groomsmen seated together. Something niggled at the back of Haven’s mind, and she cast a questioning glance at Christine as Eric held her chair. Her friend smiled and waved, then turned her attention to her new husband. Of course. She didn’t have time to play matchmaker while planning her wedding. None of this was deliberate. Still, Haven didn’t know how she could keep up her façade of nonchalance while in such close proximity to Eric.

As Jared’s oldest friend, Eric was called to give a toast to the couple. He rose and affected a casual stance that had to have every woman in the place sighing.

“Marriage for love is a recent development in the course of human history,” he said, and Jared groaned. “What?” he asked, turning to his friend. “Don’t ask an anthropologist to speak if you don’t want to hear stuff like this.” He turned back to the audience. “Did you know that the tradition of best man, which you may notice I am not, derives from the days when warriors would kidnap the bride? He needed backup in case she was excessively feisty. The reason the bride stands on the left of the groom is so he could keep his right arm, his sword arm, free to fight off any who would ‘speak now’.” The crowd tittered. “The honeymoon comes from that time too. The warrior would have to hide with his bride when her family came after them. I don’t think that will be the case with Christine and Jared, especially not after this shindig.” He gestured to the room. “We’ve witnessed the exchanging of the rings that symbolizes Christine and Jared’s commitment to each other. In a little while, we’ll see the dance and the cutting of the cake, all which are outward signs to us what they already know. They are in love with each other, and committed to stay together until the end of time. To Jared and Christine.”

“To Jared and Christine.”

Eric took his seat. Haven grinned.

“What?” he asked warily.

“That was really—nice.”

“Did you think I was going to be a dick?”

She shrugged and turned her attention to her glass of wine. “I’ve never really seen you and Jared together. You and anyone together.” They’d been so exclusive with each other. She’d wanted to protect herself from what her friends thought, what investment her friends would have in her relationship with Eric. But in doing so, she’s missed a whole level in knowing him.

But that was the past, and this was just a leftover fling and after tomorrow he’d be gone and she’d be fine.

Not for the first time she wished she had someone to talk with. But she’d made the choice to keep this relationship to herself. She’d closed them out—too late to invite them back in just because her emotions were in a jumble.

Moments later, she joined in the applause as the newlyweds took to the dance floor. They looked gorgeous together, both tall, blond and fit. And the way they looked at each other, that shared secret look in their eyes… Okay, Haven admitted to a touch of jealousy. A touch of loneliness.

Eric stroked his finger over her shoulder and down her bare arm because he couldn’t not touch her. That was who he was, a man who appreciated the physical. That was how they’d hooked up in the first place. “So you? What’s new with you?”

“Do we want to do this?” she asked with a sigh, sitting back.

His gaze flicked past her, to where the rest of the bridal party was gathering to join the newlyweds on the floor. He closed his fingers around hers. “No. We want to dance.”

Haven’s nerves hummed like a vibrating string as he led her to the floor and turned her into his arms, one hand folded over hers and the other firm at her waist. The dance was a slow two-step that they’d practiced last night, but Eric stepped on her toe from the first beat. She tightened her fingers on his shoulder to remind him, and he shuffled his feet, overcorrecting. She skittered out of the way and stumbled.

“Screw this.” He brought her against him palms pressed to her back, fingers spread on either side of her spine, pressing her into the long lean line of his body.

“Eric!” Her fingers curled in the lapels of his jacket. “If you’d practiced with me instead of trying to seduce me—”

“Shut up and put your arms around me,” he muttered.

She hesitated, trying to tamp down the desire to lean into him, then gave in and glided her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders, attempting to keep a distance between them. She certainly didn’t trust Eric to behave himself. Aware he was watching her, she avoided looking at him. Instead she focused on his throat. Suddenly the taste of him filled her mouth, and the urge to kiss the strong column was nearly irresistible. She shifted her gaze over his shoulder, concentrating on the rest of the room, and not his thumbs drifting back and forth over her skin above the fabric of her dress. The casual touch made her nipples harden. She wanted to slide against him to ease the ache that now spread, making her sex throb.

All because he was touching her bare skin.

The lights dimmed further and he pressed her closer, so she could feel his arousal through the frothy layers of her skirt. Unable to resist any longer—after all, she’d only have him a few more hours before he was gone again—she looped her arms around his neck, allowing her fingertips to stroke the skin there. He drew in a breath, and she could almost taste him on her lips. Angling his head, he slid his palm to the small of her back. His thumb rubbed casually up and down her spine, the innocent touch sending nerve endings racing to her sex. He’d touched her the same way after they’d made love last night, when she’d stretched out beside him, naked, her head on his chest. Did he realize that was what he was doing? God, she wished she could resist him instead of longing to drag him from the wedding and give him a tongue bath.

The scent of him, the hard length of his body, her own desire to enjoy her time with him relaxed her defenses and she moved closer, her breasts pressed to his chest, her fingers toying with the soft short hair at the back of his neck. She moved her belly against his arousal, because she could, her movements hidden by the full skirt. He drew in a sharp breath, his hand fisting in her skirt, and she could almost feel his mouth against her throat when—

“Hey! Romeo!” Jared smacked Eric’s arm. “Line dance.”

Eric stepped back, releasing her slowly. Her body ached with longing as more people crowded the dance floor, jostling them apart. Dazed, feeling as if she’d been dropped into the middle of the party after being on a deserted island, Haven had trouble remembering the steps. Trying to keep an eye on Eric didn’t help, but he drifted farther away. On one turn, she saw him, tie and jacket gone, sandwiched between two young women who seemed to be showing him the steps by standing much closer than necessary. Jealousy surged, unexpected, sending her off balance again.

He lifted his head and smiled at her, as if he’d known where she was all along. Her heart tripped and she returned his smile.

On the next rotation, he was beside her, still struggling with the steps but having fun with the rhythm, wiggling his ass playfully at her. She laughed and wiggled hers back on the next turn.

The song didn’t end, but swayed right into the “Cotton-Eyed Joe”. He scooped her against his side and they moved in rhythm, kicking, sliding, stepping, shuffling forward, Eric and Jared trying to out-shout each other on the “bullshit”. Haven was laughing so hard she couldn’t keep up as the band increased the pace, so Eric essentially dragged her across the floor, grinning down at her, his eyes warm with affection.

She wanted to be back in his arms so badly.

Her entire body craved his touch, and not just his fingers splayed possessively across her ribs below her breast.

A slower song followed the line dances, and Eric turned to her, relief and delight creasing his eyes. With one hand on her back, he drew her closer. With the other, he brushed damp hair from her neck, something that might have embarrassed her another time but now felt so right. She smiled and rested her palms on his shoulders, sliding them back and forth as she moved closer, anticipating the heat of his body.

“May I have this dance?”

Haven jolted when Christine’s father tapped her shoulder. “Um. Sure, Mr. Padalecki.” She stepped back, regret shimmering through her entire body as she turned to face the older man.

“This one doesn’t know how to dance, anyway,” the older man scolded, bringing Haven into his arms with an expert move. “We’ll show you how it’s done.”

Haven sent Eric an apologetic glance, but he waved it off. “No problem. I’ll go get a beer.”

Eric leaned against the bar and watched Haven step smartly in the arms of the bride’s father. God, she was graceful and gorgeous, even in that nightmare of a dress. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She cast him a smile as she and the older man circled past, and he saluted her with a beer bottle. One of the young girls he’d been next to during the first line dance approached and invited him onto the floor. He declined gently. He didn’t want another woman in his arms. Haven was why he’d been so determined to get to this wedding. Her laugh carried as he watched her twirl and quickstep across the floor. Her skin shone with the exertion. More than anything, he wanted to claim her.

When the next song began, he strode toward her. The glow on her face when she looked at him shifted, became more intimate.

“I think I want to give it a shot,” he told Mr. Padalecki, his gaze focused on Haven.

“See that you don’t tread on her toes anymore,” grumbled the older man as he turned her over to Eric.

“Hmm.” Eric brought her into his arms, one arm snug about her waist, the other free to trail through her falling hair before taking her hand and tucking it between their bodies. She nestled against him, none of the tension in her that he usually felt when they were in public. When he bent his head, he breathed in her scent, damp, clean, female. He wanted to taste her but contented himself with watching her, smelling her. As they swayed to the music, her eyes darkened with awareness. Her nipples were hard against his chest and she moved against his cock with slow circles of her hips, deliberate, he knew. Her breath blew cool over his throat above the opening of his shirt and all he could think of was the feel of her skin.