she said, stepping out of his way.
Liam stopped her by placing his hand on her elbow. She turned toward him and he stared into the softest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. She didn’t look like an obstinate, my-way-or-the-highway girl. “My fault,” he said, giving her his brightest smile. “My name is Liam Manning. I don’t really know many people here. Would you like to share our cake together?”
“I really can’t,” she said. “I have to give a toast soon.”
He tried again. “We’re actually not strangers. We met at a picnic years ago.”
“I remember. You were tormenting a defenseless snake.”
Was she kidding? “Tormenting?” he said. “I was doing no such thing. Besides, it was just a snake.”
“Yeah, and if a snake bit you, one of his buddies would say, ‘Don’t worry about it, pal. It was just a human.’”
Oh yeah, she wasn’t kidding.
“Anyway, snake torture is enough to make me wonder about you now. Like for instance, what did you and my father talk about in the hallway?”
So she’d seen them leave the party. He tried to speak, to come up with a convincing stall, but his jaw seemed to tighten up. He put down the dainty china plate that held his cake and reached for Jude’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
JUDE PULLED HER hand back. “I’d rather not.” She glanced down at her elegant so-not-her dress. “I’m part of the bridal party. I have duties.”
“But you do dance?” he asked. “And I’m sure the bride won’t mind if you have a little fun.”
Truthfully, except for a modest skill at line dancing, she wasn’t much of a dancer. Her mother had paid for the same ballroom lessons for all three of her daughters. The glides and swishes and dips had looked great when executed by Alexis and Carrie. When Jude tried to do them, she looked like a horse who’d thrown a shoe.
“Everybody dances,” she said. “But it’s not my proudest achievement.”
Refusing to take the hint, he suddenly had her hand tucked into his, and they were walking toward the dance floor. “Forgive me, but I feel the need to convince you that I’m not the snake torturer that you believe I am.”
“And dancing will do that?”
“Among other things, I hope.” He continued on a path to the dance floor. “These are all your friends and family, right?”
“Yes.” She made a quick summary of the guests in the room. How many could she actually call friends? “Most of them.” She frowned. “Some, anyway.”
“Then no one will be critical of your dancing.”
She stared into glimmering brown eyes that seemed lit from within by tiny gold sparklers. What man had eyes that perfect? She shouldn’t trust this guy. “Don’t count on it,” she said.
They stopped on the fringe of the dance floor. Jude couldn’t think of a way to escape.
“Everyone’s having fun,” he said. “And you just pointed out that you’re an important member of the wedding party. Joining in and adding to the general spirit of the occasion is part of your job, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t argue. Alex had told her, “It’s just one day, Jude. I’m counting on you. You can at least pretend to have fun.” If spinning around the dance floor one time would endear her to Alex, she could do it. Besides, pretending to have fun was what she did. She was good at it. Liam held up one hand to hold hers and slipped his arm around her back. And then, when he should have been gliding or whatever, he just remained still, staring into her eyes.
“What?” she said.
“Weren’t you taller?” he asked. “When I watched you walk down the aisle a while ago, I could have sworn you were tall. Now I wouldn’t peg you at more than five and a half feet.”
“I was tall then.”
“What?”
She raised the hem of her gauzy, satiny concoction of shiny pink, showing her bare legs almost to her knees. Laced securely to each foot was a simple but expensive running shoe. She almost laughed out loud when she saw his shocked expression.
“If you want me to put the stilts back on, you’ll have to walk me over to my table where they’re hidden under the drape. But then I won’t dance, so it’s a catch-22.”
He fidgeted with the layers of dress in her hands, trying to smooth the fabric so it covered her legs again. Was he embarrassed to be seen with a woman who’d abandoned her high heels? Too bad. Jude had never enjoyed the fashion sense of her two sisters, even though they’d tried. The shoes for the wedding had cost her fifty bucks, and they would end up gathering dust in the back of her closet.
“No, no. It’s fine. The shoes are fine,” he said, returning his arms to dance position. “We’ll dance a few minutes and then adjourn to the tennis courts outside where we can play a couple of sets.”
She almost smiled. After about thirty seconds of keeping time to the five-piece orchestra, Jude had decided that maybe she was a dancer after all. Or maybe Liam Manning was so accomplished at leading that she didn’t feel like the wallflower with two left feet. His arm pressed with authority on her back, and her hand felt light as a feather in his. His feet seemed to move with precision, stepping around and between her own so that her toes were protected while she managed to follow his unspoken directions.
At one point, he grinned down at her. “See? You’re dancing like a pro,” he said.
She chuckled. “Let’s not get carried away with the flattery, Liam.”
What is this guy’s game? she wondered. He seemed to be a mixture of propriety and charm, and Jude still didn’t trust him. She had a hard time trusting anyone who didn’t smell a little musty and have straw stuck to his boots. Although Liam Manning could possibly change her mind about all that.
She didn’t ask to sit down after the promised spin around the dance floor. Instead he slowed the pace to an easy-breathing, conversational level. “You never told me,” she began. “What’s going on between you and my father?”
“We’re back to that, are we? I hope my explanation won’t make you angry.”
“I suppose we’ll have to see about that.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Your father just asked me if I remembered you from an outing twenty years ago. I told him I didn’t, but then you reminded me of the snake incident. He mentioned how pretty you are and said I should ask you to dance.”
She grimaced. “Oh, Dad.”
“It’s okay,” Liam said. “You are pretty, and I would have asked anyway.”
Some women might have ruffled feathers after hearing such an admission. Obviously Martin Foster didn’t believe Jude could snag her own dance partner,
