always trumped emotion in every hand he’d ever played. His head always ruled his heart. How many times had his last girlfriend, Angie, told him to stop thinking and start feeling whenever the inevitable “where is this relationship going?” talk came up?
He’d tried telling her how he felt—he found her attractive, he enjoyed spending time with her, their common interests made a good foundation for a relationship—but none of those explanations satisfied her. She’d wanted something more...just like Debbie did.
He’d overheard the words from her himself. Debbie wanted adventure, excitement, mystery—not a guy she’d known her whole life.
You’re as grounded as a man can be and still manage to move both feet.
The memory of the accusation she’d made at his sister’s wedding grated on his nerves, and he didn’t even know why. The truth was, he prided himself on making solid decisions, on not rushing into situations without being able to predict the outcome. If he crossed the line from friendship to something more with Debbie, he had no idea where that might lead.
Yet knowing all that hadn’t stopped him from asking her to dance, or from wanting more than a dance....
She was right about one thing. If their names ended up linked by the local grapevine, assumptions would immediately be made.
Drew snorted. With the rate his siblings were getting hitched, his parents would be sending out wedding invitations within a week.
He hadn’t missed the little conversation between his mother and Debbie earlier. He could only hope his mother had been a little more subtle than she’d been after the rehearsal dinner a few nights before. A dinner he’d attended alone. He’d made excuses about work and the custom house he was building keeping him too busy for a relationship, but his mother had quickly called him out on it.
“Do you think I haven’t noticed how many family dinners you’ve missed recently?” she’d demanded. And then softer, she questioned, “And do you think I don’t know the real reason why?”
Okay, so maybe he had been feeling like the odd man out, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his mother. “I’ve been busy. That’s the only reason.”
His mother sighed, giving him the look that could still make him feel like he was six years old. “I have to say, I never thought you would be the child I would have to worry about.”
Drew winced in memory.
His mother would love nothing more than to see him settle down.
All the more reason not to follow Debbie out onto the secluded balcony. He almost had himself convinced when he spotted her shawl draped across the back of the chair she’d abandoned. Leaving the half-finished bottle of beer at the bar, he crossed the room to the table that had been reserved for the wedding party. And just as he’d been unable to stop himself from pulling her onto the dance floor, he reached for the softly woven shawl. The scent of her perfume, a mix of spicy and sweet that perfectly captured Debbie’s personality, drifted over him. Pulling him in when he knew he should be walking away.
As he moved toward the balcony doors, he was stopped several times along the way by friends and neighbors. He took their ribbing about being the only unattached Pirelli with good humor even if the phrase “last man standing” was already getting old. He knew it would get worse after Sam’s wedding. Still, he pushed the thought aside. He was a man on a mission, out to find a certain bridesmaid.
She turned as he opened the door, her arms crossed tightly to ward off the night air. For Drew, the chill was a relief after the ballroom’s crowded interior. But it wasn’t exactly a cold shower, and not nearly cold enough to keep his body from heating when he noticed the swell of flesh above her dress’s neckline.
All brides were supposed to be beautiful, and Darcy was undeniably gorgeous. But it was Debbie who had knocked the breath from Drew’s lungs when he’d caught sight of her walking down the aisle.
He should have been better prepared, seeing her now, but maybe he hadn’t recovered from that first blow. Her blond hair was caught to one side, her golden curls tumbling over her shoulder. The bridesmaids’ gowns reflected Darcy’s taste, and Debbie looked amazing in the halter-style burgundy dress. Tiny beads highlighted the bodice, and the rich fabric fell to the tops of her strappy sandals with a slit in the side guaranteed to blow his mind with revealing flashes of her shapely calf and thigh.
Her blue eyes gazed at him warily. “Drew...”
He heard the protest in her voice and held up the shawl. “I thought you might be cold out here.”
“Oh.”
Was it his imagination or did she sound disappointed that he’d followed her for such an innocent reason? “Well, thank you,” she said as she reached for the pink material, “but I can take care of myself.”
Drew didn’t doubt it. Debbie had been on her own since her mother died. Before that, really, with the care Bonnie Mattson had needed during her illness. He’d long admired Debbie’s independence and the way she’d scoffed at the idea of needing a man. But for the first time, that toughness seemed to soften something inside his chest. He held on to the shawl, keeping their hands tangled together in the wispy fabric. “I know you can. But once in a while, it’s nice to have someone take care of you.”
Sliding the shawl from her hands, he draped the material over her shoulders, keeping hold of both ends. “Maybe,” she conceded, though her slightly stiff posture wasn’t giving an inch. “But I don’t need—”
“This isn’t about need,” he interrupted. “It’s about want.”
Debbie swallowed. “Want?”
“It’s like...dessert. Not something you need, but certainly something you crave.”
“And let me guess. You’re craving something sweet.” The sardonic twist on the word told Drew what Debbie thought of that description—one he’d been guilty of using in the past. She’d nailed it when she complained to Darcy and her fellow bridesmaids about the local guys treating her like a little sister or a platonic buddy.
Standing so close to her now, feeling the heat from her body and breathing in the vanilla-and-spice scent of her skin, he wondered how the male population—himself included—could have been so deaf, blind and stupid. He had no doubt Debbie would taste sweet and yet— Suddenly he thought of the sheer temptation of her chocolate-raspberry cake. “I was thinking more along the lines of something rich, decadent, a little sinful even.”
Debbie’s eyes widened, huge and sparkling in the faint light streaming through the French doors. He’d gone too far, he thought. Pushed too hard for something he shouldn’t even let himself want. The smart thing, the logical thing to do was to walk away now while they still could. “Debbie—”
“Seriously, Drew, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
“Uh—” Before he had a chance to say anything else, she reached up, clasped her hands behind his neck and pulled his head toward hers. At the first touch of her lips, Drew was lost. Walk away? How could he when a single kiss had knocked him off his feet?
He’d been right about the sweetness, but had seriously underestimated just how rich, just how decadent she would taste, with just a hint of champagne and the piña colada wedding cake she’d made flavoring
