A New Year Bride. Scarlet Wilson
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in uniform?’
He hadn’t taken his eyes off her and the smile on his face—well, it wasn’t just friendly. It seemed…interested. ‘Of course I didn’t. But you look like something the Christmas fairy pulled off the tree.’
Her eyes narrowed and she mirrored his position, leaning her head on one hand and staring straight back. ‘And is that good—or bad?’
He didn’t answer right away, and the barman set their cocktails down in front of them.
She leaned forward and took a sip of the cocktail. She licked her lips again as the mixture of rum and fruit warmed her mouth. He was focused on her mouth.
And she knew it.
She ran her tongue along her lips again then bit the edge of her straw.
‘I only have the dress on loan,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’ve promised to take very good care of it.’
He leaned a little closer, obviously trying to hear her above the music playing around them. Had she lowered her voice deliberately? Maybe.
As he moved a little closer she was still focused on those blue eyes. Only they weren’t as blue as normal. In the dim lights his pupils had dilated so much there was only a thin rim of blue around them. Was it the light? Or was it her?
‘Who gave you the loan of the dress?’
‘A good friend.’
‘A designer?’
Ah…he was worried she’d been loaned the dress by a male designer. She could tell by his tone. She took another sip of her cocktail. It was strong. But it was warming lots of places all around her body. ‘Someone much closer to home.’
His brow furrowed. She was playing games with him.
His hand reached over and rested on her arm. ‘Someone I know?’
She smiled. ‘Someone you respect. Someone I respect.’ Grace lifted her hand and placed it on her chest. ‘I’m told it’s lucky. Her husband proposed to her when she was wearing this dress.’
Something flitted across his eyes. It was the briefest of seconds but it made her cringe a little inside. That might have come out a little awkwardly. She wasn’t dropping hints. She absolutely wasn’t.
Then, it was almost as if the pieces fell into place. ‘Alice Archer?’ His voice was louder and the edges of his mouth turned upwards in a wide smile as he shook his head in disbelief, looking Grace up and down—again.
She was getting used to this.
‘This was Alice Archer’s dress?’
She nodded. ‘This is Alice Archer’s dress. She offered to give me something to wear a few days ago when she heard I was coming to the party.’ Grace ran her palm across the smooth satin. Just the barest touch let her know the quality of the fabric. ‘I had forgotten. When I walked in this morning she had it hanging up waiting for me.’
He moved closer again, his shoulder brushing against hers as he lifted his cocktail from the bar. ‘Well, I think it’s a beautiful dress. I have no idea how old it is, but it looks brand new.’
Her heart gave a little soar. The dress was definitely a hit. She’d need to buy Alice a thank-you present. A Christmas song started playing behind them, causing the rest of the people in the room to let out a loud cheer. The dance floor filled quickly. Grace sipped her drink.
‘Do you want to dance?’
She shook her head. ‘Not to this. I prefer to spectate when it’s something wild. I prefer slow dances.’
She hadn’t meant it quite to come out like that, but as her gaze connected with those blue eyes the expression on his face made her suck in a breath.
She could practically feel the chemistry between them sparkling. She wasn’t imagining this. She just wasn’t.
It wasn’t possible for the buzz she felt every time he looked at her, or touched her, not to be real.
‘I’ll take you up on that,’ he said hoarsely, before turning back to the barman. ‘Can we have some more cocktails?’
His senses were on overload. Her floral scent was drifting around him, entwining him like a coiling snake. His fingertips tingled where they’d touched her silky skin. The throaty whisper of her voice had sent blood rushing through his body as if he were doing a marathon. His eyes didn’t know whether to watch the smoky eyes, the tongue running along her succulent lips, the shimmer of the silver satin against her curves or the way her curls tumbled around the pale skin at her neck. As for taste? He could only imagine…
What was more, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shut his senses down.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t spent time with women since Anna had died. On a few occasions, he had. But those encounters had been courteous, brief and for one purpose only.
There had been no attachment. No emotional involvement.
But with Grace? Things felt entirely different.
He wanted to see her. He wanted to be around her. He was interested in her, and what she thought. He didn’t want to see her a few times and just dismiss her from his life.
It had been twelve years since he’d really dated. One date with Anna had been enough to know he didn’t need to look any further. And right now, with his stomach tipping upside down, he wasn’t sure he knew what to do any more.
Oh, he knew what to do.
He just couldn’t picture doing it with emotions attached.
All of those memories and sensations belonged to Anna. He knocked back the last of the cocktail and lifted the Festive Shots that had appeared on the bar. He blinked, then tipped his back and finished it before turning to Grace.
Wow. Nope, nothing had changed in that millisecond. She was still here with her tumbling curls, sensational figure and eyes that looked as if they see down into his very soul.
She gave him a suspicious look as she eyed the shot glass. ‘Who are you trying to get drunk, you, or me?’
He signalled to the barman again, who replaced his shot. He held it up and clinked it against her glass. ‘This is only my third drink and it’s only your second. Somehow, I think we can cope.’
She clinked her glass against his, then tipped back her head and downed her shot too. It must have hit the back of her throat because she laughed and burst out coughing. He laughed too and gave her back a gentle slap. ‘It hits hard, doesn’t it?’
She nodded as her eyes gleamed a little with water. ‘Oh, wow.’ She coughed again. ‘Festive? More like dynamite.’
The music slowed and she glanced over her shoulder. ‘Something you like?’
She tipped her head to the side as if she were contemplating the music. ‘Actually, I really love this song.’
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He held his hand straight out to hers as Wham’s Last Christmas filled the room. ‘Then let’s dance.’
She slid her hand into his. Her fingers starting at the tips of his, running along the palm of his hand and finishing as her fingers fastened around his wrist. His hand slid around her waist, skimming the material of the dress as they walked across the dance floor. He gave a nod to a few members of staff who nodded in their direction.
They were attracting more than their fair share of attention. He should have known this would happen. But the truth was, he didn’t really care. This wasn’t about anyone other than them.
Grace spun around as she reached the middle of the dance floor. Her hesitation only showed for a second before she slid her hands up around his neck.
It