suggestive in plain view than tucked into her dress. She tugged on the totem and told herself not to get embarrassed. If they wanted to gawk, by George, let ’em gawk.
That ought to give Mack something to think about.
4
MACK STOOD BY the punch bowl glowering at Jake, who’d scooped Camryn out from under him. He glared while his best friend waltzed his dream woman around the dance floor.
No fair! He had seen her first. Had almost ran her down in fact, because he’d been studying her so hard.
He admired Camryn’s graceful movements. Enjoyed the way her dress swirled and flared around her legs. A bullet of jealousy shot through him when she cocked her head upward and smiled at something Jake said. He shouldn’t be jealous. He wasn’t much of a dancer himself. Let her have fun with someone who didn’t possess two left feet.
So why the burning sensation in his gut? Camryn’s hair fanned out, swirled behind her as she danced. Mack found himself enchanted by that twirling mane and he wasn’t the only one. He spied many covetous glances angling her way from the numerous single men lined against the wall.
She might be pretty but it really wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Secretly, he was terrified of making a grave mistake, of picking a woman too beautiful and delicate to survive in his homeland. That’s why he had the “wife” list.
Mack patted his breast pocket, then remembered he was wearing a tuxedo and had left his list at home. No matter. He knew the requirements by heart. His ideal woman would be brave, feisty, loyal, trustworthy, adventuresome, honest and intelligent. Just like his grandmother.
When Jake had seen his list, he’d retorted that what Mack wanted was a Boy Scout, not a wife. Mack had pondered on Jake’s comment for a few days, then added: a sense of humor, likes to snuggle and doesn’t mind being spoiled. He hadn’t shown that part of the list to Jake. A man could only take so much razzing from his friends.
He didn’t know if Camryn possessed all the qualities he needed or not. They’d shared a connection, a moment. Only getting to know her better would tell if their initial attraction was anything more than superficial sexual awareness. He didn’t have time to waste on meaningless affairs. Been there, done that.
He’d just turned thirty-one and while he’d never heard of men having biological clocks, damned if he didn’t hear this strange ticking in the back of his head.
He didn’t want to be an older single parent like his father. Pop had been forty-two when Mack was born and in a wheelchair with rheumatoid arthritis by the time Mack was thirteen. He wanted to have his kids while he was still young enough to pitch a baseball and hike a mountain and shoot a hockey puck. Mack had learned that experiencing life to the fullest was the only way to live. Because you just never knew what the future held.
Well, buddy, you won’t find out anything about Camryn standing here on the sidelines. Get out and get into the game.
The band switched tunes, going from a jazzy rock beat to a slow, dreamy waltz at the same moment Mack tapped his buddy on the shoulder.
“Do you mind?” he said to Jake, then to Camryn, “May I have this dance?”
Jake shrugged, nodded. Camryn smiled and held out her arms to him.
That’s what he liked most about her, the way she met his gaze head-on. Clear and straight, with nothing to hide. She didn’t act coy, nor did she present an overly aggressive demeanor like that grabby UNLV sorority sister. She was honest, open, flexible.
On the surface she seemed to be everything he’d been dreaming of when he placed that advertisement with his friends.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello.” Simple, direct, no game-playing.
Camryn pushed a tendril of hair from her face and tried her best not to drop her gaze. Mack looked unbelievably handsome in a tux.
Don’t be scared, she coached herself. You’ve got the treasured wish totem around your neck and you’re having the adventure of a lifetime.
She was no longer meek little Cammie Jo, but fearless Camryn Josephine, up for whatever life might throw her way. And she was loving her new self.
Mack took her in his arms. Oh yes! He was all brawn and muscle and sinewy male.
Being held like this was an eye-popping experience for her, startling and novel. His body heat, so incredibly thermal, slipped into her skin roasting her from the inside out. His smell clobbered her senses, left her addled with yearning. Oh, she was falling too fast, stumbling too quickly out of her element and her normal comfort zone.
Dazed, Cammie Jo just stared at him. Her brain had turned to banana pudding.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” he apologized. Oh baby, I don’t care.
Lucky for them both Aunt Kiki had once been a professional dance instructor, otherwise Cammie Jo wouldn’t have known a fox trot from a fox hole.
Then she realized Mack thought she was staring at him because he’d just crunched her toe, but honestly, she’d barely noticed. She was concentrating on those sultry eyes that smoldered with a banked sexuality.
“I might not be much of a hoofer,” Mack continued, and here his gaze roved downward to peruse her lower extremities with obvious appreciation. “But you’ve got legs just built for dancing.”
In the past, she would have blushed at his compliment but tonight she accepted his appraisal as a matter of course. By gum, she did have rather nice legs. It was about time someone noticed.
Don’t hide your light under a bushel. One of her mother’s favorite sayings sprang to mind. Even when she was little she recalled her mother worrying that she was too shy, too modest, too introverted by half, and she’d struggled hard to draw Cammie Jo from her shell.
“So,” he said. “What do you do for a living, Camryn?”
Should she tell him the truth? Would he be impressed or turned off by an academic? But she couldn’t lie even if she wanted to. She couldn’t think fast on her feet.
“I’m working on my Ph.D. in information science. And I teach undergraduate classes at the University of Texas.”
“Really? That surprises me.”
“Why? Do I look dumb?”
“No, no. Of course not. It’s just that information science seems like a profession that would attract an introvert, not a gregarious lady like yourself.”
“You think I’m gregarious?”
Oh lovely, Cammie Jo. Tip your hand on the first day.
“Sure. You’re so at ease in a crowd.”
She almost laughed out loud. No one had ever paid her that particular compliment.
Mack was studying her, his eyes hot. So hot her clothes stuck to her body. Everywhere his gaze landed she seemed to burst into flames as if he possessed a kind of libidinous
