went dust-dry. His heart banged around inside his chest like a cranky old truck engine in dire need of a ring job. His skin felt hot and tight, and his throat contracted on a hard swallow.
Lord, if he could get her alone and peel her out of that dress, he just knew she’d look and smell and taste like every one of his most secret sexual fantasies come to life.
He wanted her like he wanted his next breath, his next meal, his most cherished, lifelong goal of… Damned if he could even remember what that was right now. All he could see was Hope.
She smiled directly into his eyes and spoke in a voice gone soft and husky. “Well? What do you say, cowboy? Want to dance?”
A smart man would ignore this insane but powerful attraction, make a polite excuse and head for the hills. Jake had been a smart man all summer with regard to Hope. But today he was sick and tired of being smart.
With her standing right in front of him, looking so sweet and sexy, and knowing that out of all the guys at this shindig, many younger, more handsome and more charming, she wanted to be with him… Well, he had to admit it was flattering as hell. And where was the harm in enjoying that for a little while? After all, it was just a dance.
He wasn’t going to sleep with her, fall in love with her, or, God forbid, marry her.
So what if this was the fifth family wedding in the past year? He didn’t need to get himself all spooked about it. By tomorrow, she’d show up for lunch with green or purple hair. She’d be wearing one of those eye-popping, L.A.-Western getups no self-respecting cowgirl would even try on, much less buy, and he’d remember all the reasons he’d been avoiding her.
Glad to have that figured out, he stood up and offered the lady his arm. “Thanks, Hope. It’ll be my pleasure.”
Hope blinked in surprise at Jake’s laid-back smile and easy acceptance of her invitation. He’d been avoiding her so much lately, she’d expected to have to drag him onto the dance floor, if she managed to get him to dance with her at all. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding while he made up his mind; it probably had taken only a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. She didn’t even want to know what complicated mental gyrations he’d performed in reaching his decision.
Hope’s Rule Number One for a Happy Life was never question the Universe when it gives you what you want, and today the Universe was in an extremely generous mood.
The weather had been perfect for the wedding, with only pleasantly warm temperatures for the middle of July. Blair’s darling cowboy, Dillon McBride, was now her husband, and the newlyweds were safely on their way to a storybook honeymoon on a tropical island the media would never find.
The reception had turned into a lovely party, with none of the brittle, see-and-be-seen politics so prevalent at Hollywood social gatherings. All in all, it had been a perfect day. Having an opportunity to dance with Jake was a bonus she hadn’t dared expect.
Her heart stumbled when he took her into his arms on the dance floor. He was big, strong and solid, and she felt dainty and safe whenever she stood next to him. Thank you, Universe.
Honest, decent, deeply devoted to his family and loyal to his friends, Jake McBride was the kind of man other people depended on. The kind of man who never let anyone down if he could help it. He was exactly the kind of man Hope had spent her adult life searching for but never really expected to find. Being with him like this, having him smile at her as if he thought she was fascinating was a fantasy come true.
“Havin’ a good time?” he asked, leading her into a competent, dance-class two-step.
“Wonderful.” Hope smiled to herself at the respectful distance he kept between their bodies. Jake would never be the smooth and inventive dancer Marsh was, but he got the job done and there was a lot to be said for his predictability. She tipped her head back to smile at him. “And it’s all thanks to you. You did a marvelous job of creating this wedding.”
His teeth flashed in a surprisingly shy smile. “I can’t claim all the credit. Lots of folks helped in putting it on.”
“Other people had some ideas for it, but you’re the one who made the actual arrangements.”
His tanned face flushed. Glancing away, he started to shake his head, but she cut him off before he could speak. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know exactly how much you did.”
He chuckled and tightened his arm around her waist, turning her toward the middle of the dance floor. “Is that so?”
“Of course it is.” To her surprise, Jake didn’t loosen his hold when he’d completed the turn the way he usually did. She didn’t know why he’d always ignored her previous advances, but she wasn’t going to complain if he made an advance of his own toward her now. Never question the Universe. “And believe me when I tell you that false modesty is not an attractive character trait.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” His decidedly boyish grin softened the strong planes of his face and charmed her completely. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome.”
They two-stepped in a relaxed silence until the song ended. Since he’d never spent any more time with her at a party than absolutely necessary for a “duty” dance, Hope expected Jake to escort her from the dance floor. This time, however, he stood there looking down at her with an unfathomable expression in his dark eyes until the band started another ballad. A slow, decidedly sexy ballad.
Without asking permission, he started moving in time with the music again. While she was mystified by his behavior, Hope willingly moved with him. He gradually pulled her closer until their bodies brushed with each step. Her pulse sped up with each contact, no matter how fleeting, and she wondered if he even realized what he was doing.
She’d dreamed about being this close to Jake since she’d met him a little over a year ago. He’d never given her the slightest encouragement to believe he felt any sort of attraction between them, however, and she’d all but given up hoping he ever would. It was tempting to violate Rule Number One, but Hope firmly resisted the urge.
When he danced right through a third song, she rested the side of her head against his shoulder and inhaled deeply, savoring the faint, spicy scent of his aftershave. She felt, more than heard him release a sigh. His arm tightened one last time, pulling her flush against him.
His body definitely was attracted to hers. She raised her head. Oh, dear. His gaze met hers and for the first time ever, she glimpsed something hot and excitingly dangerous lurking in the depths of his eyes.
With her breasts firmly pressed against his chest, she felt his heart thumping in tandem with hers. Her lips formed his name, but no sound emerged. He stopped moving and stood there, studying her as if he’d never seen her before.
His gaze latched on to her mouth. Time slowed, slowed, slowed, and she feared it would stop altogether and he never would kiss her the way he so clearly wanted to do. The way she so desperately wanted him to do.
But then, inch by agonizing inch, he lowered his head. One second she was dying of anticipation. The next, she was in heaven, reveling in the firm pressure of his lips against hers, tasting the bite of whiskey when his tongue entered her mouth, hearing a half-stifled groan fighting its way out of his throat.
Giving herself up to the experience, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Slid her fingers through his thick black hair. Stroked the edges of his teeth with the tip of her tongue.
He nearly inhaled her whole, body and soul.
Kissing him was better than any kiss she’d ever seen on the silver screen. Better than any kiss she’d ever read about in anyone else’s book. Better than any kiss she’d ever imagined and written about in her own books. If the reviewers were to be believed, she’d imagined and written some of the best, steamiest kisses in the history of print.
Nothing—real or imagined—compared to Jake McBride’s kiss.
Heat.