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Easy, breezy Hunter, that was him. Keep it light, keep it simple and when things got too heavy, move on.
Move on, move on.
Chapter Two
“Care to dance?”
A quiver shot through Gracie at the sound of that deep, masculine voice. She’d heard it regularly for the past year, five days a week. Sometimes his voice haunted her memories, a memory she told herself she wanted to forget. Always whispering hot words of sensual promise just before he dragged his mouth down the side of her neck…
Not that she’d ever confess that particular bit of information to anyone.
Hunter stood before her, looking like Prince Charming in his impeccable tux. His big hand extended toward her, his expression hopeful. Not the usual look for her boss, that was for sure.
“Um…” She paused, not sure how to answer. To refuse him would be business suicide, and she liked her job, thank you very much. But to accept—to take his hand and have him lead her to the dance floor, pull her into his arms and hold her close?
That would be playing treachery with her heart. And she was always very careful when it came to the emotional stuff.
As in, she didn’t let her emotions come into play whatsoever.
A sharp elbow stabbed her in the ribs, and Gracie gave a little jump.
“Answer him,” Becky whispered out of the side of her mouth.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Gracie.” His velvety deep voice was laced with humor, but there was something in his eyes. A hint of disbelief at her potential refusal, mixed with a generous dose of invitation.
As if he wanted to dance with her, not because she was part of his much valued marketing team, but because he might be—attracted to her.
Okay, she knew he was attracted to her. And she was attracted to him.
But she didn’t want to go down that road again. No way, no how. She’d already made one mistake with her superior and she didn’t want to do it ever again.
No matter how good of a kisser he was.
“I—yes, I would, um.” She stumbled over her words, feeling like an absolute fool, and Becky jabbed her in the ribs yet again. With her luck she’d end up with a massive bruise from her so-called friend’s abusive encouragement.
Pressing her lips together, Gracie set her hand in Hunter’s, and his fingers tightened around hers as he pulled her to her feet. Tingles shot up her arm at his assured touch, sending an electric pulse throughout her body, and she tried to ignore it. Really, she did.
But her body responded as if it recognized him—which it most likely did. It was hard to forget the man who kissed her senseless that one drunken night.
She followed him onto the dance floor, gasping a little when he yanked her into his arms, close enough that his body heat wrapped all around her, setting her senses aflame. She settled her hand tentatively on his broad shoulder, marveling at the hard strength beneath her palm. He smelled delicious. A blend of woodsy spice and a mysterious scent that was uniquely Hunter. She inhaled him as discreetly as possible.
Just breathing him in made her dizzy. Being held in his arms? Thank goodness he had a firm grip on her or she’d melt into the floor.
“You’re quite the dancer, Hayes.” Amusement filled his voice as usual. He almost always called her by her last name, did so to the entire marketing team.
“Um, thank you.” His compliment surprised her, and she wondered if he was just being nice. Feeling suddenly shy, she thought it best if she kept her gaze trained on his chest. Bet if she tilted her head back and looked into his blue eyes, they would be sparkling with humor.
He was always full of effortless charm, though it had dimmed some temporarily after the events of last year, when he’d found out the vice president of marketing, the man he trusted above all else with the exception of his brothers, had been selling business secrets to Worth Luxury’s direct competitors.
Anyone would have a tough time recovering from that.
Lately though, and especially tonight, he was more like his old self. Smiling and laughing and full of flirtatious banter, drop-dead gorgeous in the tuxedo he wore. He was the perfect best man to stand beside his brother.
She’d never been to such an extravagant reception before. The wedding of the season, the society pages called the marriage between Alex and his former assistant Tessa Crawford.
The ceremony had been lovely. Simple and quiet with sweetly worded vows and the couple shooting each other such heated looks of love, Gracie was surprised the altar hadn’t burst into flame.
They danced in each other’s arms now, Tessa and Alex. Swaying to the music, Tessa’s head resting on her husband’s shoulder, her bare arms looped around his neck. Alex held her just as possessively, his hands splayed across Tessa’s back, his fingers stroking her exposed skin. They looked like they couldn’t get enough of each other.
