Millennium Knickerbocker’s Crystal Ballroom while they waited for the bride and groom to arrive.
“You look like you could use this,” a deep voice said when Cecile finally walked into the reception. “The line’s terrible.”
“Thanks.” Cecile turned and gained a sudden new appreciation for Luke Shaw as she took the wineglass he offered. The line for the bar was eight deep.
“Just stick with me,” Luke said. “I know my way around these things.”
“I can tell,” Cecile murmured appreciatively as she rolled the wine over her tongue. “So are you giving a toast?” she asked.
“That’s Devon’s brother’s job, and I’m glad of it,” Luke admitted cheekily. “Can’t stand the things. ‘To the bride and groom. May your love last a lifetime and all that happy jazz.’”
Cecile arched her eyebrow. Here was a man she could identify with, especially if this was his attitude. “You sound cynical.”
“Realistic?” Luke queried. “Don’t weddings make all the single people feel like they’re left out of some exclusive club?”
“Yes, they do, and you’re a brave man to admit it,” Cecile said.
That fabulous grin widened, revealing naturally pearly whites.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Luke said. “Of course, now I’m going to have to think of one for you. Can’t be something cheesy or trite, though, or given right at this moment. Better when you don’t expect it, that way you’ll get the full effect.”
Down, girl, Cecile told herself at his innuendo. She reminded herself that she’d earlier resolved not to get swept up in the wedding magic. And Luke was obviously a flirt. Cecile hadn’t had a chance to question her sister further about the man, but any female with half a brain could gauge Luke Shaw’s type.
Even Cecile couldn’t say she was unaffected. He was like a tickle—welcome and yet needing to be stopped at the same time. He was sexy, and already other unattached women were giving him the eye. In fact, one of them was making her way over now. Cecile plastered on a smile as the daughter of one of her father’s business associates came over. Cecile hadn’t seen her since high school, but one thing could be said about Loretta—years later, the blonde was still stunning.
“Cecile,” Loretta said in greeting. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in ages. You look terrific.” She turned to Luke. “Hi, I’m Loretta Foster.”
“Luke Shaw,” he said easily as he shook her hand. Cecile noticed that Loretta’s ring finger was bare, and that jogged a memory—Cecile’s parents had told her last Christmas about Loretta’s wedding and the subsequent scandal when her husband had had an affair with his secretary only a few months later.
“It’s nice to meet you, Luke,” Loretta said, her attention fully on him.
Cecile’s negative reaction to Loretta’s interest in Luke startled her. Surely Cecile couldn’t be jealous. She hardly knew Luke. She might think he was sexy, but she wasn’t going to pursue him. Or would she say yes if he asked her out? With her new career needing her full focus, she’d been thinking only of the wedding reception when talking earlier with Lisa, but suddenly the idea of a date with Luke held appeal. And so did not letting anyone else have him.
Cecile glanced at her wineglass. Time for a refill and some much-needed space so that she could figure out exactly why she suddenly felt muddled and as if she were walking on quicksand. Cecile focused. Loretta must have told Luke she was divorced, for she was saying, “Sometimes it just takes a person twice to get it right. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Luke said easily, his tone light. Cecile avoided meeting his glance and made the mistake of looking at Loretta.
“You’ve never been married?” Loretta asked. She appraised Luke like a rare commodity, and Cecile’s hackles rose. “Your father’s the real-estate developer?”
“Right on both counts,” Luke said.
Loretta leaned closer. “And you’ve escaped the noose this long?”
Luke shrugged. “I was holding out for Angelina Jolie, but Brad Pitt stole her.”
“Oh, aren’t you funny,” Loretta said, her smile wide. “I just love a sense of humor. It’s so rare to find that in a man these days. Most of them are simply too serious. Old before their time.”
Deciding not to be a third wheel and determined to maintain self-control, Cecile began easing her way toward the bar. Perhaps in her grape bridesmaid garb she could cut the line. There had to be some privileges for wearing a hideous dress.
“So are you here with a date?” Loretta asked Luke, expertly sliding her question into the conversation. Loretta was good, very good, Cecile thought as she somehow resisted the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. She took another step, but a firm grip grasped her left wrist and she found herself jerked backward.
And directly up against Luke Shaw. He fitted her neatly into the curve of his right side, and somehow Cecile managed not to drop the wineglass she still held as her body responded to his on a primitive level.
“Actually, I am taken,” Luke told Loretta before Cecile could utter one word of indignant protest about his actions. Blatant chemistry was making her want to do things with him she’d decided not to do. Then she made the mistake of looking at him.
Those blue eyes caught Cecile’s, and she froze under his gaze’s intensity and seriousness. “You see,” Luke told Loretta with firm conviction, “Cecile’s my date.”
Chapter Three
She was his date? Since when?
Luke had totally misread her conversation with Lisa. But since Loretta was staring at her oddly, Cecile closed her mouth and played along. “I’m his date,” she confirmed. The idea actually held appeal—he had her pinned against him, creating strange warmth that simply demanded exploring. The man was temptation.
“Isn’t that sweet,” Loretta said, her recovery upon processing the announcement flawless. “You make such a lovely couple. Oh, they’re seating for dinner. We’ll catch up a little later. I do want to hear more, like how you met.”
“That sounds great,” Cecile lied, knowing Loretta would disappear for good now that her prospect was gone. Cecile detached herself from Luke’s grasp and waved the wineglass at him as Loretta disappeared from view. “I’m your date?”
“You have objections? I thought that served both of our purposes quite well. Still do. How can you hit on me if we’re not together?”
Indignation roared. “Despite what you may have overheard me say on the phone, I also said I wasn’t going to hit on you. You are impossible.”
“I try,” Luke said. “Especially if I get what I want.”
“Lisa was teasing. And I said maybe I would pursue you, maybe I wouldn’t.” Cecile’s heart raced. He wanted her?
“I like the ‘maybe I would’ part better,” Luke
