best au jus. The face was classically handsome, smooth-shaven, cleanly shaped with high, strong cheekbones that drew attention to the heavily lashed, dark brown eyes. His face was creased by a broad smile outlined by a pair of lips so sensual they were made to be kissed. Her own lips parted, puckered slightly, of their own free will, as she continued to examine him.
He wore a navy sports coat, tailored to highlight the shoulders that seemed too wide to fit through any standard doorway. His white dress shirt, open at the throat, revealed tanned skin and a hint of chest hair. Ruthie had always found that particular spot fascinating on a man, particularly one as well built as this one. Not that she had inspected any up close anytime recently. Like within the past three years.
Light gray slacks, tailored to fit him perfectly, skimmed his lean hips. They were expensive, obviously, but also tight enough to leave her speculating that he wore boxers, not briefs.
“I’m dreaming,” she finally managed to say, shaking her head mournfully. “I’ve fallen asleep, my face is right now resting cheekbone high in a six-inch tall cake, and in the morning someone’s going to come in and find I’ve asphyxiated myself on Ghirardelli.”
He grinned. “I’m very real, I’m afraid. We seem to have had the same idea. Sneaking into the kitchen for a late-night snack?”
Ruthie shook her head, trying to sort through the champagne-inspired cobwebs clouding her thoughts. “I needed some serious chocolate,” she finally said.
He held her eye and slowly nodded. “I think I do, too.”
Ruthie grabbed a fork from a stack of washed dishes on a nearby counter and tossed it to him. “Help yourself.”
He caught it easily, sat on another stool next to the one she’d vacated, and dug right in.
Ruthie watched a smile of satisfaction cross his face as he tasted. Okay, he was real. He wasn’t a vampire. Vampires didn’t eat food, except, maybe, raw steak. Certainly not sweets. And this guy obviously appreciated the cake. Another point in his favor, considering she’d made it!
“Have some champagne,” she said as she sat next to him on the other stool. “There’s more where that came from.”
He glanced at the half-empty bottle, and the full one standing next to it, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Spoils from the wedding.”
He dropped his stare to her dress. “I gathered as much.”
She grimaced as she looked down at the bunched-up material on her lap. “Had to be, huh? I guess I can’t pass for a seventeen-year-old, so you’d never have figured I was a dumped prom date.”
“Dumped? Never.”
“Maybe not a prom date. But dumped.” Ruthie heard a tiny whine in her voice and hated it.
“Only if the guy’s a complete and utter moron.”
She tried to take comfort in the conviction in his voice, but, remembering her evening, could do nothing but frown. “It’s not him. It’s me. I’m just not desirable.”
A look that could only be described as incredulous crossed the man’s features. “How much champagne have you had?”
“Not enough to make me forget this stupid dress and the look on his face when I…”
“Yes?”
“Not enough to make me forget this stupid dress,” she repeated, forcing herself not to mention how Bobby had reacted when she’d asked him to spend the night with her in her suite.
Shocked wasn’t quite the word she’d use to describe his expression. More like horrified.
“I take it the bride didn’t want any competition,” the man said as he hefted the champagne and took a healthy swig straight from the bottle. Ruthie grinned, seeing a few drops trickling down his chin. Her grin faded as he lowered the bottle and caught the droplets with his tongue. Oh my, how very agile!
“I’m sorry?”
He waved a hand toward her dress. “You know. She didn’t want her bridesmaids to look too good.”
“Hence this awful dress that’s the same color as the stuff in my one-month-old godson’s diapers?”
The gorgeous stranger coughed as he choked on the piece of cake he’d just put in his mouth. Ever helpful, Ruthie leaned forward and gave him a good solid whack on the back. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry…got a strange visual there.”
“Can’t be any worse than what I’ve been picturing ever since I showed up at the dress shop two weeks ago and found this, instead of the emerald-green gown I was supposed to be wearing! I think they call it ‘olive’ but it’s obviously ‘strained peas.’ Wrong color. Wrong size. Wrong style, even though I did agree to wear the stupid hoops to please Celeste’s future mother-in-law. She’s a little old-fashioned.”
“The bride?”
Ruthie shook her head. “Celeste? No, she’s wonderful. And more into Modern Bride than Southern Weddings!”
“She doesn’t seem the type to inflict hoop skirts and bows on her friends.”
“She’s not. But she married a great man with a sweet, craftsy mother, whom she really wanted to please. So Denise and I were stuck playing Suellen and Coreen to Celeste’s Scarlett.”
“Denise?”
“Another cousin, her older sister,” Ruthie explained. A loud sigh escaped her lips. “She got married, too.”
“Tonight?”
“No, two months ago. To a very successful, rich guy, who happens to be much too nice for her, but who is also about three inches shorter than Denise!” She heard a note of satisfaction in her own voice. “Sorry, I’m not usually spiteful.”
“Denise the bad seed in your clan?”
Ruthie thought about it. “I guess not. A little sneaky, sometimes mean-spirited. Not truly bad. Just very competitive, since we’re only a few months apart in age. She does tend to flash her two-carat diamond at me an awful lot.”
“And you’re the only single one left?”
Ruthie plunged her fork in and hoisted another hunk of cake into her mouth. “Even my sixty-year-old mother got married last year. She’s now touring the western part of the country in a camper with her new husband, Sid, and his four Scottie dogs,” she muttered after she swallowed. “And here I sit. Single. Undesirable. Alone.”
The man grabbed her hand as she reached for the bottle. He held it tightly, forcing her to look at him. “If some guy turned you down, it was his own stupidity. You are one amazingly attractive woman, in spite of your…”
“Butt-ugly dress?” she volunteered softly, somewhat awed by the intensity of his stare as he studied her face, her mussed hair, her chocolate-smudged lips.
He laughed, bringing
