The Wedding Secret. Michele Dunaway
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so fast? Time to switch to water. If not, she’d probably do something she’d regret. Like jump Luke Shaw and find out what kind of moves he had, starting with planting her lips on his. She had no doubt he could kiss, and new leaf be darned. She understood now why men rammed their ships on the rocks when exposed to the sirens.
Kissing Luke was a delectable-sounding idea but, unfortunately, probably not a very wise one.
Then again, Cecile wasn’t known for wise decisions when it came to men. Unlike Lisa, Cecile was impulsive. Mr. Right always turned into Mr. Wrong. It was a fact of her life. Cecile rose to her feet, her mind waffling. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…” she said.
Luke stood also, a chivalrous gesture indicating good breeding and refined manner. He had to stop impressing her! Requiring space, Cecile headed for the sanctity of the ladies’ room. Getting her bearings and wits together was probably a smart idea. The man had crawled under her skin, made her want things she’d best avoid. He made her want to throw caution to the wind. He invited her to play with danger.
All night he’d had the upper hand, probably from overhearing her conversation. But Cecile wasn’t one who left the status quo alone, especially when it wasn’t tilted in her favor. She was almost thirty and ready to get serious about having it all. She was tired of simply attending weddings—darn it, she wanted her own.
She wanted marriage and a husband and a career. She had no idea what Luke’s intentions were beyond the obvious that involved getting her horizontal.
But she could say no, no matter how tempted she was. Right?
LUKE WATCHED AS Cecile made her way toward the ballroom exit. Ladies’ room, he surmised. She wove her way through the room, her posture tall and strong despite having had a lot of wine in a short period of time.
Her body had a natural sway to it, one that enticed despite being clad in purple fabric that did little to enhance. Luke had made a career out of studying people and he liked the lines of Cecile’s neck. He liked the way her mouth moved and the way she raised both eyebrows when she gave him her dubious look.
He hadn’t met a woman who’d interested him this much in a long, long time, which made toying with her fun. He’d pushed to see exactly how much she’d dish back. She’d met his challenges directly, which had impressed the heck out of him.
As for naming her his date, that pronouncement had taken even him by surprise, but once he’d voiced the words, he’d immediately been glad he’d said it. His better ideas often arrived spur-of-the-moment.
The idea of spending time with Cecile appealed. She reminded him of one of those traditional Greek statues. She had classic features that didn’t come from plastic surgery or perfectly applied makeup. He could sense a realism to Cecile that mirrored his own. He guessed that she lived with both feet planted fully in the moment, just as he did.
Bottom line, she was a person he wanted to get to know. In more ways than one.
But as Luke was thirty-five, he was beyond the one-night-stand mentality of his younger days. Sure, having sex was pleasurable, but the older he got, the more he realized quality was more important than quantity. He wanted to savor, to appreciate the woman. To enjoy her company for as long as it was mutually agreeable.
Luke hadn’t met a woman like Cecile Duletsky in forever. Thankfully he was still seated, for parts of him had stirred to attention. Luke reached for his water goblet. He drained the contents in one long swallow, but that did little to quench the thirst he’d developed.
At this point in his life, he’d reached the place where he wanted it all, starting with finding the right woman who could hold her own. After all, he had everything else: condo, car, sailboat and a fantastic job. Those were all material possessions, just “stuff.” In reality, nice but meaningless. What he needed was to find his other half. The way Devon had.
Luke wanted nothing less. That’s why he tossed himself out there, dating now and then, trying to find his soul mate. As for Cecile, the gods had blessed him when they’d paired her with him tonight. Luke was a believer in fate, but he knew that to get a door to open you at least had to jiggle the handle. That’s what he’d been doing with Cecile. Testing her.
She’d passed.
The bride and groom chose that moment to wander back to the head table and sip champagne from the engraved hand-blown flutes custom-made for the occasion. Strange to think that the neighbor Luke had grown up throwing mud and snowballs at had become Dr. Devon Pinewood, esteemed surgeon and happily married man.
Luke and Devon were about a year apart in age and had been a grade level apart at the private prep school they’d both attended. That hadn’t stopped them from getting into loads of boyhood trouble over the years, even if lately the only trouble had been on the golf course when each tried to finagle his way to the lower score. Elizabeth had been a calming influence on Devon from the moment they’d met at a charity event four years ago. Luke smiled as he watched the couple. They’d had some rough spots but worked through them.
Hopefully Luke could also find that magic. Of course, he and Devon had different ideas of what comprised the perfect woman. Unlike Devon, Luke wanted his woman to be an independent spirit who vocalized her thoughts and stirred him up.
Cecile certainly got him going. Perhaps her assertive nature came with the hair—those strawberry-blond strands just begged a man to touch that human fire. Her hair fit her flamboyant and outgoing nature.
Devon’s mother approached the head table. Mistress of the clock, she pointed to her watch. “It’s time for the wedding party dances,” she said. She scanned the room, mentally locating each member of the wedding party. “Where’s Cecile?” she asked, directing the question at Luke.
“She’s in the ladies’ room,” Luke said as he rose to his feet. “I’ll go get her.”
“Thank you.” An expression of relief crossed Amanda’s face, and Luke understood why Elizabeth’s parents had simply ceded much of the control for the wedding. Luke didn’t know much about the Duletskys, but a glance over at their table showed that they were having a relaxed and fun time.
Wise people, Luke noted.
He kept an eye out for Cecile as he left the ballroom, but he didn’t see her. He exited, strolling toward the restrooms. He caught up with her just as she was leaving. She wasn’t paying much attention and practically bumped into him.
“Steady,” he said as he gripped her arms lightly to stop her from teetering. The dyed-to-match heels she wore weren’t too stable.
Her green eyes widened as she recognized her savior. “What are you doing, following me around?” she demanded.
Yep, she was definitely the type who rallied. No one would ever mistake her for being passive, and Cecile was certainly unlike the women who subtly pointed out their availability as Loretta had done earlier. He and Cecile were turning out to be very compatible, and he was finding her a perfect match for every one of his predetermined criteria. He liked the way she felt pressed against him. He enjoyed her wit and refusal to back away from a challenge. Her green eyes were hypnotic orbs he could drown in. Cecile was the entire package—beauty and brains. And she connected with him on all levels. If tonight went well, he was ready for it to be the first of many.
“Actually, yes, I was following you,” Luke admitted. He slid his hands down her arms and curled her fingers into his palms. “It’s time for me to show you my moves. We’re wanted on the dance floor.”
Chapter Four
She almost tripped again, but his hands continued to steady her. His touch created an odd tingling, something she’d been in the bathroom trying to avoid.
There was definitely a large amount of chemistry zinging between them, and for some reason Cecile was scared. Something about Luke made her feel as if she were in a fun house, on one of those moving floors that tilted you off balance.
“Elizabeth