masculine way. Each time she inhaled, the scent of him coiled through her and set her pulse to pounding.
She swallowed hard, trying to pull her concentration back to the conversation and away from the totally inappropriate thoughts whirling through her. “Of course. It’s really been a beautiful wedding. I’ll tell you though, as soon as Mel and Brian leave, I’m headed home to crash. I haven’t had much sleep lately.”
“I understand. I was out late last night myself. You know, strippers and hookers and such.” He winked at her.
“I don’t care, and I really don’t want to know,” she reminded him with a laugh. The music ended, and the bandleader announced the garter and bouquet toss. As Matt led her off the dance floor, she remembered something.
“Brian said that you’re staying at his place while you’re in town.” At his nod, she continued. “I have some wedding presents at our apartment that I need to drop off. Would tomorrow afternoon be okay? I have a key, but I don’t want to barge in on you, so I’ll call first.”
“I’ll be at my mother’s most of the day tomorrow, so any time is fine.”
Ella nodded because she knew through Melanie that he had plans for the day. But his next words floored her.
“How about you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll take the presents back to Brian’s after and save you a trip.”
“Dinner?” Had she heard him correctly?
“Dinner.”
She was still confused and obviously looked it.
“You know, that meal people eat late in the day? Come on,” he coaxed, “you did a fantastic job with this wedding. Let me take you out to celebrate.”
Where had this come from? “Um, okay…” Realizing she sounded reluctant, she stopped and slapped a smile on her face. “I mean, that sounds great.”
“All right, then. Seven o’clock?”
She nodded, sensible words still escaping her.
“Is Salvador’s okay with you? I haven’t been there in ages.”
Salvador’s was a swanky place close to the South Pond, frequented by the young, beautiful and terminally hip crowd. Ella rarely went there, as she considered herself completely unhip. But the food was great, and if anyone would fit in with the crowd there, it would be Matt. Finally she managed another nod. Great, he’s going to think I’m a bobble-head doll.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay.”
With a smile and a small wave, Matt disappeared into the crowd. Without him to clear the path, Ella had to fight her way to Melanie. Her mind spun. Matt Jacobs wanted to take her out to dinner? Why? She could understand if he didn’t know anyone else in Chicago, but he’d grown up here. His friends and family were here—many of them in this very room. Surely there were plenty of people for him to go out with. So why her?
Confusion, though, couldn’t outrun vanity. To go to Salvador’s with a piece of eye candy like Matt wasn’t an opportunity that came her way every day. Since she was leaving Chicago next week anyway, it wasn’t an opportunity likely to ever happen again.
What on earth would she wear?
She shook her head at her own silliness and continued to fight her way out of the mob.
Melanie was looking for her and pulled her into a tight hug as soon as she made it to her side. “Thank you so much for everything.” Her voice caught, and her eyes misted.
“Don’t you dare start crying,” Ella pleaded as her eyes began to burn. “Your mascara will run.”
“Screw my mascara. Everything has been so perfect today, and I—” Her voice broke this time, and Melanie paused for a deep breath. “I can’t stand it that you won’t be here when I get back. I’m so worried about you being all the way down south without anyone at all.” Melanie managed a short laugh through her tears. “Heck, I’m worried about me—who will I talk to?”
“There’s this wonderful invention called the telephone, you know.” A sniff escaped, and Ella fought to keep herself together. “Anyway, I’ll be back to see you at Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And every other minor holiday, too.” Ella knew she was seconds from bawling her eyes out. “We’ve covered all this already.”
“I know. I’m just going to miss you so much.” Mel drew in a deep shuddering breath. “I love you, El.”
“I love you, too. Now, go. Everyone’s waiting for you to toss the bouquet.”
“I want you to be the one who catches it. It’s time for you to settle down now. Enough of this messing around. Promise me you’ll catch it.”
“I’ll try,” she lied.
Melanie stood on the steps leading out of the hall and turned her back to the crowd. As soon as she did, Ella stepped out of the mosh pit of single women jockeying for position and tried to slip to the sidelines, out of the way.
“One, two, three!” the crowd chanted, and Melanie heaved the bouquet over her shoulder.
But she threw it too high. Instead of flying directly into the waiting crowd, it caught one of the ceiling fan blades and was thrown off course, slicing neatly to the right, away from the mob. Ella looked up in time to see the bouquet headed straight for her. Reflexively, she caught it before it hit her smack in the face. The crowd cheered, and Melanie applauded before she was whisked away into the waiting limo, leaving Ella to face the aftermath alone.
Damn, she thought, as her taxi stood idling where the limo had recently been. So much for early exits. She spent the next hour receiving congratulations and predictions about the lucky groom-to-be. To add insult to injury, that worthless Jason caught the garter, and she was forced to pose with him for photo after humiliating photo. More than once she saw Matt watching her, an amused smile playing around his mouth.
By the time she got home, she was too tired to do more than slide out of her bridesmaid’s dress, leaving it in a puddle of navy silk on the floor, and fall headfirst into bed. Her last thought before exhaustion claimed her was that she still had no idea what she would wear the following night.
CHAPTER TWO
THE doorbell rang promptly at seven, and Ella wasn’t ready. Between sleeping most of the day away and the fact her apartment was complete chaos, the simple act of getting dressed for dinner had taken on farcical properties.
Forced to choose between leaving Matt standing on the front steps or answering the door half-dressed, she padded down the stairs to the door, cinching her robe tightly closed as she went.
“Hi, Matt.”
Whatever he was about to say in greeting died as his gaze swept her from head to toe, taking in her state of undress. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes seem to linger overly long on her legs, exposed by the thigh-length robe? He cleared his throat and looked at her quizzically. “Um, am I early?”
“No,” she
