Mothers In A Million. Michelle Douglas
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“Those flowers aren’t real?”
“Nope. Those are gum paste flowers.”
“My God. They’re so perfect. Like art.”
She laughed. Hadn’t she thought the same thing? “It will be melted art if we don’t get it inside soon.”
They took the layers into the event room and set up the cake on the table off to the right of the bride and groom’s dinner seating. Around them, the caterers put white cloths on the tables. The florist brought centerpieces. The event room transformed into a glorious pink-and-lavender heaven right before their eyes.
Around four, guests began straggling in. They signed the book and found assigned seats as the bar opened.
At five-thirty the bride and groom arrived. A murmur rippled through the room. Missy sighed dreamily. This was what happened when a bride and groom were evenly matched. Happiness. All decked out in white chiffon, the beautiful bride glowed. In his black tux, the suave and sophisticated groom could have broken hearts. Wyatt looked at his watch.
“We have about two hours before we get to the cake,” Missy told him.
He groaned. “Wonder what Owen’s doing right now?”
“You’d rather be in the sandbox?”
“All men would rather be playing in dirt than making nice with a bunch of people wearing monkey suits.”
She laughed. That was certainly not the old nerdy Wyatt she knew in high school. That kid didn’t play. He read. He studied. He did not prefer dirt to anything.
She peeked over at him with her peripheral vision. She supposed having money would change anybody. But these changes were different. Not just a shift from a nerdy kid to a sexy guy. But a personality change. Before, he’d seen injustice and suffered in silence. Now he saw injustice—such as Owen being alone—and he fixed it. Even his helping her was his attempt at making up for her ex abandoning her.
Interesting.
White-coated waiters stood at the ready to serve dinner. The best man gave the longest toast in recorded history. In the background, a string quartet played a waltz.
Wyatt looked at his watch again. Silence stretched between them. Missy knew he was bored. She was bored, too. But standing around, waiting to cut the cake, was part of her job.
Suddenly he caught her hand and led her outside, but a thought stopped her short. “Is the wedding bringing up bad marriage memories?”
He laughed and spun her in a circle and into his arms. “Actually, I’m bored and I love to dance.”
“To waltz?” If her voice came out a bit breathless, she totally understood why. The little spin and tug he’d used to get her into his arms for the dance had pressed her flush against him. His arm rested on her waist. Her hand sat on his strong shoulder. And for a woman who’d been so long deprived of male-female contact, it was almost too much for her nerves and hormones to handle. They jumped and popped.
She told herself to think of the old Wyatt. The nice kid. The geeky guy who’d taught her algebra. But she couldn’t. This Wyatt was taller, broader, stronger.
Bolder.
He swung her around in time with the string quartet music, and sheer delight filled her. Her defenses automatically rose and the word stop sprang to her tongue, but she suddenly wondered why. Why stop? Her fear was of a relationship, and this was just a dance to relieve boredom. Mostly his. To keep it from becoming too intimate, too personal, she’d simply toss in a bit of conversation.
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?”
“Florida. I can dance to just about anything.”
She pulled back, studied him. “Really?”
“I go to a lot of charity events. I don’t want to look like a schlep.”
“Oh, trust me. You’re so far from a schlep it’s not even funny.”
He laughed. The deep, rich, sexy sound surrounded her and her heart stuttered. Now she knew how Cinderella felt dancing with the prince. Cautiously happy. No woman in her right mind really believed the prince would choose her permanently. But, oh, who could resist a five-minute dance when this sexy, bold guy was all hers?
His arms tightened around her, brought her close again, and she let herself go. She gave in to the rush of attraction. The scramble of her pulse. The heat that reminded her she was still very much a woman, not just a mom.
He whirled them around, along the stone path to a colorful garden. As they twirled, he caught her gaze and the whole world seemed to disappear. There was no one but him, with his big biceps, strong shoulders and serious brown eyes, and her with her trembling heart and melting knees. Their gazes locked and a million what-if’s shivered through her.
What if he hadn’t gone away after college?
What if she’d been able to keep their date?
What if she wasn’t so afraid now to trust another man?
Could she fall in love with him?
The dance went on and on. They never broke eye contact. She thought of him being good first to Owen and then to all three of her kids. She thought of him angry when he’d jumped into her SUV. Righteously indignant on her behalf, since her ex was such an idiot. She thought of him wanting to kiss her the other night, and her already weak knees threatened to buckle. If it felt this good to dance with him, what would a kiss be like?
Explosive?
Passionate?
Soul searing?
“Excuse me? Are you the lady who did the cake?”
Brought back to reality, she jumped out of Wyatt’s arms and faced the woman who’d interrupted them, only to find a bridesmaid.
Missy’s senses instantly sharpened. “Yes. Is there something wrong? Do I need to come inside?”
“No! No! The cake is gorgeous. Perfect.” The woman in the pink gown handed her a slip of paper. “That’s my name and phone number. I’m getting married next year. The third week in June. I’d love for you to do my cake. Could you call me?”
Happiness raced through her. Her cheeks flushed. “I’d love to. But I have to check my book first and make sure I don’t have another cake scheduled for that day.”
The pretty bridesmaid said, “Well, I’m hoping you don’t.” Then she slipped back into the ballroom.
Slapping the little slip of paper against her hand, Missy joyfully faced Wyatt again.
He leaned against a stone retaining wall, watching her with hooded eyes.
“Look! I’m already starting to get work for next year.”
He eased away from the wall. “Yeah. I see that.”
She’d expected him to be happier for her. Instead he appeared annoyed. Her heart beat against her ribs. Surely he wasn’t upset that they’d been interrupted?
She licked her lips and fanned the little slip of paper. “She hasn’t tasted the cake yet. This might not pan out.”
“Everybody who ate at the diner loved your cakes. You know they’re good.”
She grinned. “I do!”
“So you’re a shoo-in.”
“Yeah.”
She took a breath. He glanced around awkwardly.
Then she remembered they’d been dancing. Her heart had been pounding. Their gazes had been locked. Something had been happening between them. But the moment had officially been broken.
And now that she was out of his arms, away from his enticing scent, away from the pull