the minister had asked if anyone knew why she and Nick shouldn’t be married. She looked into Nick’s dark boundless eyes. No one answered, and the minister went on. Nick took her other hand.
A physical connection vibrated between them, startling Clair, increasing her uncomfortable awareness of him at her side. Dreading the kiss they had to share, she stole a glance at his full, firm mouth. In truth, she wanted to feel him against her, wanted to know how he tasted.
The minister gave his permission, and Nick slid his hands up her waist. As he grazed the swell of her left breast, Clair stopped breathing. He brushed his cool lips against hers. With a surprised breath that felt hot against her mouth, he pulled her closer.
“I give you Dr. and Mrs. Dylan.”
Amid more whispers, the church doors banged open, and two men rushed inside. “Fire!” one shouted. Everyone froze. “Fire!” he yelled again.
Men and women in their Sunday best began to pour toward the exits.
“Here?” someone demanded.
“Where?”
“Whose house?” a woman shouted.
The first man answered, just loudly enough to make everyone stop and listen. “The Atherton house.”
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