convincingly.
“Prove it,” he challenged.
She eyed him warily over the top of her glass. “How?”
“Dance with me.”
Erin took another tiny sip of her champagne as she considered how to respond. She knew she should refuse, that getting closer to the groom’s brother was not a good idea when he could make the nerves in her belly quiver from clear across the room. But how could she refuse? What excuse could she give for declining a seemingly innocent request? Especially when he’d already guessed that she was avoiding him.
Thankfully, before she could say anything, another woman approached from the other side and latched on to him, deliberately rubbing the curve of her breast against his arm as she leaned close. “Hey, cowboy, you promised me a dance.”
When she’d been waitressing at the Hitching Post, Erin had gotten to know Trina as one of the Friday night regulars. Trina frequently came in with a group of girlfriends and often left with a man—and not usually the same one as the week before.
At the resort, Erin frequently worked at check-in with Trina, as had Erika. No doubt it was their working relationship that had compelled the bride to invite the other woman to her wedding despite the fact that Trina had been instrumental in churning the gossip mill when Erika started dating Dillon.
Erin didn’t know whether Trina had attended the event with a date, although she knew the presence of an escort wouldn’t inhibit Trina from flirting with anyone else who caught her eye—as the groom’s brother had obviously done.
To his credit, Corey didn’t roll his eyes, though Erin didn’t miss the quick desperate plea in them before he shifted his gaze from her to the other woman.
“But I already promised this particular dance to Erin, didn’t I, darlin’?”
She had the power to save him. She simply had to agree that he had promised this dance to her. But she sensed that saving Corey from the she-wolf at his side would somehow end up with her becoming a sacrificial lamb, and that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Because the way he said “darlin’”—the subtle Texas twang in his voice combined with the unmistakable heat in his eyes—sent a delicious shiver over her skin and stirred desire in her body and reminded her that what she needed to do was keep a good, safe distance between herself and the far-too-sexy Texas oil heir.
“Actually, I really wouldn’t mind sitting this one out,” she said.
“I’ll be right back,” Corey said to her, and his narrowed gaze told her that the words were more a threat than a promise.
Trina’s satisfied smile, however, warned Erin not to count on his prompt return.
She watched him move around the dance floor with the other woman in his arms and tried to convince herself that the sensation overtaking her was relief and not regret.
Corey knew when he was being brushed off. Though it was something of a new experience for him, he had no trouble interpreting the message in Erin’s polite words—she wasn’t interested.
The woman in his arms, however, definitely was. Unfortunately, Corey couldn’t even remember her name.
Catrina? Tina? Trina! At least, he thought that was it. He admittedly hadn’t been paying much attention when she’d introduced herself earlier. He hadn’t paid much attention to any of their conversation, having been thoroughly captivated by the sexy bridesmaid in the frosty blue gown.
The one who claimed she wasn’t interested.
His gaze drifted across the room to where Erin stood with a glass of champagne in her hand, and his gaze locked with hers again.
And he knew that, although she might feign disinterest, the look in her eyes contradicted her words.
So what was the story there? Why was she pretending to be immune to the chemistry between them?
After meeting her at the rehearsal the night before, he’d made some discreet inquiries and learned that she didn’t have a steady boyfriend. In fact, by all accounts, she hadn’t dated anyone since moving to Thunder Canyon a few months earlier. Which made him wonder if she’d made the move because she needed to get away from someone who had broken her heart.
The thought was strangely unsettling. He didn’t even know her, so he didn’t understand why he would feel protective of her. But there was something that had struck him from the first—maybe it was the hint of vulnerability in those deep-blue eyes, or the wistfulness in her smile, or maybe it was just the feeling, irrational though he knew it was, that Erin was the woman he’d been waiting for.
He smiled at the thought, recognizing it as not just irrational but ridiculous in light of the fact that he couldn’t even get her to agree to dance with him. Then again, Corey had never been one to back down from a challenge.
More and more couples were joining those already on the dance floor and soon the space was so crowded with bodies that he lost sight of her. When the song finally ended and he released Trina, she pouted prettily.
“Are you really going to let me go so soon?”
“Yes, I am, darlin’,” he told her, but softened the rejection with a smile.
She tucked something into his pocket. “My number—in case you change your mind.”
Because his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, he didn’t tell her that he’d had her number from the start, but he also didn’t give her another thought as he walked away.
He was too busy searching the crowd for a certain blue-eyed girl in a familiar blue dress.
Chapter Two
Erin had let down her guard. It was the only excuse she had for being caught so unaware. But when Corey had followed Trina onto the dance floor, Erin had been certain her coworker would keep him thoroughly occupied. She hadn’t expected that he would walk away from an obviously willing woman and come looking for her.
But she’d barely started to nibble on the hors d’oeuvres she’d put on her plate when he lowered himself into the empty chair beside her. She popped a coconut shrimp in her mouth, slowly chewing then swallowing.
“I believe you owe me a dance,” he said, choosing a stuffed mushroom from her plate.
She lifted a brow. “Do I?”
“At the very least.”
“Why don’t I share my dinner and we’ll call it even?” she suggested.
He grinned, and she felt the now-familiar weakness in her knees again. “I’ll get you some more mushrooms as long as I get the dance.”
She nudged her plate toward him. “I’m really not that hungry.”
“What are you afraid of?” He bit into a petite quiche.
“That you’ll stomp all over my toes with your cowboy boots.”
She’d meant to insult him, hoped the affront would
