Stand-In Mom. Megan Kelly

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Stand-In Mom - Megan Kelly Mills & Boon American Romance

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laughed. “It’d be a shame if y’all sounded like us.”

      “Now y’all—I mean, you are making fun of me.” He winked at her.

      She enjoyed the moment as their bodies adjusted to each other in wordless communication. He smelled of man rather than aftershave. Just strength and vitality, making her mouth water. The tan skin of his neck so close enticed her lips. She pulled back before temptation made her do something she’d regret. “Are you married?”

      His hold on her loosened; his expression sobered. “Not anymore.”

      Hearing he was single made her pulse accelerate, although part of her wondered why any woman would let a man this adorable and sexy get away. Did he eat crackers in bed? Hog the covers? These things didn’t matter to Ginger; she wasn’t looking for long-term. “She must have been crazy to let you go.”

      He shook his head, and his gaze drifted off. Great. Now his thoughts centered on another woman, one he obviously had feelings for still. Ginger knew she should cut her losses and leave him to his memories. He had the look of a man recently set free—lost and hungry but too conflicted to act. Yet.

      The music ended, and she sensed he would lead her off the dance floor, return her to the bar with some expression of thanks, maybe buy her that wine, but she’d never hear from him again. The first notes of “Lady in Red” sounded, and Ginger gripped his shoulder. She felt a kinship with him, although she’d long ago passed the stage of being saddened by her divorce. Maybe a nudge would lead him in the right direction. Toward her. “I’m not married, either. Not anymore.”

      She held his gaze as he began moving to the song, their bodies in accord.

      How could she keep him with her? Judging by his reluctant withdrawal, the reminder of his wife had been a blow. Ginger recalled those first shell-shocked weeks after Kyle left her. Scott’s breakup must be recent.

      “I haven’t done this.” He gestured to their bodies with their clasped hands. “You know, been out. Not since … being single again. I didn’t want to be alone tonight, but coming to a party of strangers?” He shook his head.

      “It’s hard the first time, but it gets easier.”

      The twist of his mouth expressed his doubt. Would he make the effort again? Her mood deflated. He still had a thing for his ex. She could help him over this first hurdle, but she doubted he’d be interested in trying.

      Although he remained in her arms, Scott wasn’t really with her anymore.

      “I’m sorry.” His words came out forced. “I’m not very good company, I guess.”

      “Don’t worry about it. Let’s finish the dance, okay?”

      He nodded and led her to the music, dancing several steps in silence. Gradually his body relaxed. “Nice song.”

      His breath whispered across her temple.

      “Good band.”

      “Exceptional partner.” He laid her hand on his chest, patting it into place.

      She started when she felt his left hand go to her waist. After a second, he pulled her closer until she pressed flush against his body. His hesitation must have been to test her willingness. If he only knew.

      We’re in a hotel, she wanted to say. Test me upstairs. I’ll show you willing.

      But she didn’t say anything—with words. Instead she linked her hands behind his neck, letting a finger stroke against his nape. She felt his shiver.

      When the song ended, Scott looked into her eyes. “Another? Or would y’all prefer that drink now?”

      The intensity of his hazel eyes made her mouth go dry, but a glass of wine wouldn’t alleviate the problem. A kiss from Scott might. “I’m fine here.”

      “This one,” the bandleader said, “is for those of you who are missing family this time of year.”

      They began playing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and Scott stiffened.

      “Want to get out of here?” He shook his head. “No, wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Outside maybe? The terrace—is there a terrace? Doesn’t matter, it would be too cold.”

      Ginger smoothed her hand down his tie. “Wherever.”

      He blinked.

      “We could go out and walk in the lobby for a minute.” Get him away from the music and the memories.

      He held her hand, dodging dancers and groups on the edge of the dance floor. Ginger avoided making eye contact as they passed. Some of these people would recognize her if they looked closely—her hair shone like neon—although few would have seen her dressed so elegantly. More likely, they knew her with paint under her nails rather than on them. Her Cinderella clothes would have to come off. She grinned, hoping for the moment to happen sooner rather than later.

      She followed him out of the ballroom to the long carpeted hallway. The lights were dimmed, creating shadows for quiet conversations. Mirrors and slim tables lined the walls of the one hundred-and-fifty-year-old hotel, alternating with insets of maroon vases containing various white flowers. They strolled to a deserted area farther along, where a wide window overlooked the snow-covered grounds.

      “Sorry,” Scott said. “Y’all sure pulled the short straw with me.”

      She laughed, running her eyes over his long form. “I don’t think so.”

      “Not literally, maybe,” he agreed. “But your other partners tonight wouldn’t have fled the dance floor like the room had caught fire.”

      He pronounced it “cot far,” making her suppress a grin. And he thought he didn’t have a twang?

      “Hey.” She tugged his hand to make him stop walking and face her. “I’m not out here with anyone else. I came out with you.”

      His expression softened. “I appreciate that.”

      Then his words caught up with her. “Have you been watching me dancing all night?”

      “You’re very popular.”

      Her chin lifted. “Then why didn’t you ask me to dance earlier?”

      “You’re very popular.”

      “What does that mean?”

      Scott shrugged. “I don’t deal well with competition.”

      Had his wife cheated on him? Ginger swallowed, hoping he hadn’t asked anyone about her. Since her ex-husband left her, she’d filled some of her free time with men. It irritated her that she felt guilty about it now. With Scott. That early wild streak had mellowed once she’d decided to adopt a baby on her own; still, she had to live with her choices.

      He squeezed her fingers. “But you dance as though there’s nothing more important than that song and that moment. Very full of life.” He stepped closer. “You look like a flame with your bright hair and yellow dress. And I wanted

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