“She is happy.”
“And what about you? Are you happy?”
“I don’t mind serving punch.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Are you happy here? In Cadillac?”
No. “Yes,” she blurted. “I’m very happy. I’ve never been so happy. I’ve got my business and my grandma. Life is all right.”
“All right?” He eyed her. “What happened to amazing? Awesome? Explosive?” He named off every adjective she’d ever used when talking about the future and the life that waited for her beyond the city limits.
“I’m not the same irresponsible girl I was back then.”
“Because…”
Because she’d barely survived last night’s close encounter. If she had to feel his arms around her again, or smell his intoxicating scent, or stare into his eyes, she wasn’t so sure she could make it through with her cover still firmly in place. “Because I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s late.” She glanced at her watch, her brain scrambling for an excuse to step away from him. To run away before she did something really outlandish like throw her arms around him and kiss him right here and now with everyone looking on. “And I’ve got to get up early for work.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. The nursery is closed.”
“But I’m still working. I’ve got a full greenhouse to inventory before my new deliveries on Monday. It’ll take all day, so I have to get a very early start. Nice talking to you. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Not this time.” He caught her hand and tugged her after him, to the far side of the room and a small, private corner behind several large potted palms draped in white tulle and twinkling white lights.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out why you won’t dance with me.” He hauled her in front of him and backed her into the corner. “Other than the fact that it’s late and you have to be up early. I know there’s more to it, Belle.”
Belle. As in Jezebel. “Nobody calls me that anymore.”
“As I recall, no one else ever did. It was just me. I also recall that you liked me calling you that, almost as much as you liked dancing with me.”
“Maybe I don’t like to dance anymore.”
“You liked it just fine last night.”
“I wanted to win a game last night. I needed to dance with a hot guy to beat Maddie, and you were the only hot guy there.” When he didn’t look the least bit convinced, she added, “You were hot and I needed hot. It wasn’t because I wanted to dance, certainly not that I wanted to dance with you. I didn’t. Not last night, and not now.”
“Is that so?”
“Look, things are different now. I’m different.”
“Really?” He fingered the conservative neckline of the hideous orange bridesmaid’s dress. “You mean your heart doesn’t pound when I do this?”
She managed to shake her head despite that he could undoubtedly feel the frantic thud thud against the pad of his finger.
“And your blood doesn’t rush when I do this?” He trailed his fingertip over the edge of the dress, over the material until he brushed her nipple through the fabric.
“Not at all.”
“And you don’t get even the slightest bit wet when I do this?” His touch swept south until she felt the press of his fingertip at the vee of her legs. He traced a little circle and heat fired low in her belly.
“I…don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because…” She licked her lips and tried to ignore the sensation sweeping along her nerve endings. It felt so good and he felt so good and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and simply feel. “This is a bad idea.”
“Because you don’t want me?” He leaned down, his warm breath brushing the sensitive shell of her ear. “Or because you do?”
“Because…” She tried to think of an explanation, but then her gaze caught his and she couldn’t think. She could only feel. The warmth of his body so close to hers. The throb of her nipples. The tightening between her legs. The tingle of her lips. “I really want to kiss you,” she blurted. And then she did.
He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to feel her lips against his own. His mouth was wet and warm and welcoming.
He plunged his tongue deep, tangling with hers in a fierce kiss that made her thighs quiver and her nipples ache and her hormones chant yes, yes, yes while her brain screamed no, no, no! She tasted him, licking and exploring in a fast and furious rhythm that quickly calmed into something a little less frantic and a lot more dangerous.
But Sarah Buchanan didn’t do fast or furious or dangerous, especially dangerous. Not anymore.
The truth echoed in her head, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop. It was the voice that did that.
“Say something to the bride and groom.”
Sarah pulled away to find a video camera trained on her.
Reality hit her as Wes Early grinned and said into the mini microphone attached to his camcorder, “Weddings aren’t just about forming new relationships, folks. They’re about renewing old ones, as well. Houston and Sarah were once the hottest couple in high school and it seems they’re still heating things up—”
“Thanks for the suggestion,” Sarah cut in, with the only excuse her frazzled brain could come up with. “I’ll definitely give some thought to replacing the chamber’s annual bake sale with a kissing booth.”
“What?” Houston stared down at her, deep into her eyes, and her heart did a double thump.
“Your idea for the chamber of commerce to host a kissing booth instead of a bake sale. It’s got potential but you didn’t need to demonstrate.”
“I didn’t—” he started.
“Shame on me for getting caught up in the town’s business on your special day,” she cut in, fixing her gaze on the video camera and forcing a smile. “Congratulations and I wish you both the best.” And then she darted under Houston’s arm and left both men and a live camcorder staring after her.
A video camera, of all things. Not only had she blown the conservative image she’d managed to build for herself, she’d done it on tape for everyone to see.
She forced away the thought and headed out to the parking lot. She was already behind the wheel when she remembered that she hadn’t even said goodbye to anyone. Not Cheryl Louise or her friends or her grandma Willie, who’d ridden over with some
