Whirlwind (9 page)

“You obviously know how to hold your own, so I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding work,” he said. “But should you need anything, feel free to give me a call.”

I fished out my last homemade business card and gave it to him. “Thank you.” I was expecting an offer for a fall internship any day now, but if that fell through, Dean could be a lifesaver.

He pocketed my card after a quick inspection.

Beth nudged me and gave a thumbs up.

I stifled my grin and turned my attention toward the front of the room. Again. More often than I’d intended my eyes had drifted to the bridal table. Throughout dinner, I’d told myself I was checking on Mitch, but somehow I always ended up staring at Jason. Engaged in a deep discussion with Chase and Linda, he rarely acknowledged Tricia, much to my delight. She was fuming from the lack of attention.

Desperate, Tricia tipped the last of her champagne onto Jason’s hand. He nodded to her but turned away quickly, extracting his hand from her napkin.

Wiping his hands on his own napkin instead, Jason scanned the crowd.

He’s looking for me!
Fighting the irrational, hopeful voice in my head—and the very nerdy urge to wave—I watched him inspect the tables one by one.

The moment he saw me, his eyes brightened, catching me in their spotlight. His sly smile sent a delicious tremor through me.
Told you!

We stared at each other, locked in a silent closeness that excluded the roomful of people around us. When he broke our connection, I gasped for air, unaware I’d been holding my breath.

Jason turned his attention to a man in front of the platform who handed him a long, black cylinder. At our table, a regiment of waiters moved in, blocking my view while they cleared dishes and refilled glasses. The music faded, replaced by the clinking of metal on glass.

The tinkling sound became deafening as everyone joined in, banging forks and spoons against their glasses, demanding that the bride and groom kiss. With a flourish, Mitch captured his wife and sealed his lips to hers. Amid the cheers Jason stood, his glass in one hand, a microphone in the other.

He cleared his throat, and the room quieted. “Could the bride and groom please stand and hold hands?” he began. Mitch held one hand open to his new wife as they rose, and she easily fit both of hers into it. He covered them possessively with his other hand and looked at Jason.

“Excellent. Mitch, I want you to remember this moment fondly for the rest of your life.” He bobbed his chin toward the couple’s intertwined fingers. “This is the last time you’ll ever have the upper hand.” Ann and Mitch looked down and chuckled along with the crowd.

When the laughter died down, Jason continued, perfectly at ease in front of the crowd. “Thank you for inviting us all to witness the love you two share and to celebrate the final joining of your souls. It was obvious when you first met you were made for each other—at least it was obvious to Mitch. Ann, did you know that after your first date, Mitch called and gushed over you for hours?”

Another laugh erupted, and Mitch nodded at Ann, whose eyes had widened in surprise. “That’s what I thought he was talking about, anyway. I kind of fell asleep in the middle. He kept me up till five in the morning with his blabbing.” The laughter continued.

“I knew then you were special, Ann, and wasn’t surprised when Mitch told me he was going to ask for your hand. He was so sure you’d turn him down. Little did he know you’d called me the day before, asking if I thought he was ready to propose.” Mitch’s mouth dropped open and Ann beamed. “So really, this toast should be to me, right?” Jason grinned widely.

Mitch and Ann picked up their crystal champagne flutes and tipped them to him, mouthing “thank you” as they did.

Waiting for the crowd to quiet again, Jason raised his glass high.

His voice, brimming with love for his brother and new sister-in-law, filled the room. “May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future. To the bride and groom.”

“To the bride and groom,” we responded and drank. Lowering his glass, Jason’s gaze immediately met mine. Even from across the room I could see the blue in his eyes flare, and I found myself drowning yet again. Unfortunately, a tap on my shoulder freed me.

“Miss, this is for you.”

I turned to see a waiter with his hand out.

“Thank you,” I said and looked down. He’d given me a purple napkin with
Congratulations Ann and Mitch
embossed on it. Below the gold script was the faint impression of handwriting. I flipped the napkin over and found a note written in a smooth, swooping hand.

Melissa,
It’s been too long. Will you save a dance for me?
Jason

My heart flew to my throat. I looked up at Jason, who tipped his glass to me and bobbed his head in my direction.
What could he possibly be thinking?
I tilted my glass with a small smile, and we sipped in unison. As I sank back into my chair, his unwavering stare flooded me with an unfamiliar contentment. The vision of Jason kissing me—
really
kissing me—returned, stoking my desperate glimmer of hope into a small flame.

My flight of fantasy came crashing down to earth when Tricia pulled Jason into his seat, her bright purple fingernails caressing his cheek, coaxing his face toward hers. My fingers closed around his note, crushing it, along with the happiness I’d briefly enjoyed. Tricia aside, an icy truth quenched my unrealistic hopes.

As Mitch had learned years ago—painfully—I didn’t dance.

Four

After the toast, Mitch and Ann took turns at the
mic
, making short thank-you speeches. I refused to look at Jason and Tricia, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. The soft, sexy way he said my name swirled around my head—along with Tricia’s shrill retorts—effectively drowning out everything the bride and groom said. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the DJ shouted my five least favorite words: “The dance floor is open!”

Dean and his wife rose immediately to join the swaying mass. I caught a passing waiter’s eye and indicated my empty water glass. My intention was to stay as far away from the dancers as possible—both for their safety and my own. I had about as much rhythm as a heart attack…or a seizure.

The two Trojans tossed their napkins on the table and slid their chairs out with a loud screech.

“So, ladies,” the braver Trojan, Number Two, started, “shall we?”

The waiter chose that moment to step between us to fill my glass.

“Gee, dance with them, or with
him?
Not much of a choice is it, Mel?” Beth whispered, pointing at the white knuckles on my left hand. My fist was still clenched around Jason’s note—had she been reading over
my
shoulder?

“You little snoop,” I scolded.

The waiter moved aside, and Trojan Number One quickly wiped his impatient grimace away. He wiggled his eyebrows and offered me his hand.

“No thanks,” I said. “Beth is the one who tears up the dance floor.”

Trojan Number Two’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, and Beth pinched me in the side.

“Sorry, I’m with him,” she said firmly and waved at her approaching boyfriend. The grim scowl on Todd’s face sent both Trojans scurrying away.

“Good luck, Melissa,” Beth said, then disappeared, wrapped around Todd.

I debated venturing into the crowd milling around the edge of the room. Mitch’s parents weren’t too far away; striking up a conversation with them wouldn’t be hard. A casual “I didn’t know Mitch and his brother looked so much alike” would be all it’d take to steer the conversation toward Jason.

An arm raised in my direction. I’d been staring at Mr. and Mrs. McAlister, and the guy next to them must’ve thought I was looking at him. Not more than eighteen, his expression was one of naked shock.

He pointed at me, then back at himself, and swung his arms and hips in a vague dance-like motion.

You’ve got to be kidding.

I let my hands fly around in front of me, feigning sign language. Ending with a silent “Sorry,” I shrugged.

The kid’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again like a suffocating goldfish. I made a few more spastic gestures, and he blushed. With a feeble wave, he sped off into the crowd. Snickering, I took a sip of water. I should’ve been flattered by the interest, but I wasn’t that desperate.

My eyes automatically found the head table and Jason’s empty chair. Was he on his way to find me? I hazarded a glance around the room. His spellbinding eyes and tantalizing hair were nowhere to be found; why didn’t that make me feel better?

I picked at my fingernails nervously. What would I say to him? Somehow I knew I couldn’t turn him down, even though it would mean complete humiliation for me. The thought of having him hold me drew my eyes around the room again, this time with more anticipation than fear.

Just when I realized Tricia had disappeared too, the worst of the unattached targeted my table. My stomach lurched when the wrinkled suit of the eighties guy I’d bumped into outside stalked toward me. Not surprised or angry—thank goodness—he had a confident, almost predatory walk. His smile didn’t convey excitement or happiness but voracious greed, his lips rising to fully expose his canines in a wolf-like grin. He was, in a word, creepy.

That’s it.
Gotta
go.
I reached for my purse, but the strap caught on something. I’d just untangled it when I felt a heavy hand on the back of my chair.

“Hi. Would you like to dance?” he asked in an oily voice.

“No, thank you. I don’t dance.”
Still
.

“How about I join you, then?” he asked and promptly sat in the chair closest to me. “I was rude when we ran into each other earlier. I’m Ron.”

Was that supposed to be an apology or a pick-up?

“What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring the fact he hadn’t let me answer his previous question.

Showing him the same level of courtesy, I scanned the crowd, searching for a lifeline. Chase and Linda were busy talking to his parents several tables away. Beth and Todd were dancing; Mitch and Ann were across the room, laughing; and neither Tricia nor Jason had reappeared.
Welcome to wedding reception hell.

I picked up my water glass and considered dumping it in Ron-the-creep’s lap, but that would mean getting closer to him and his smelly suit. Instead, I took a long drink and inspected the five-tiered wedding cake in the far corner, avoiding his eerie stare. Would he get the hint if I refused to acknowledge his existence?

“So, are you a friend of the bride or the groom?” he asked, unfazed.

“Groom,” I nearly shouted, hoping this guy was as intimidated by Mitch as the Trojans were. “
Close
friends.” None too subtly I clutched my purse, thankful I’d remembered to slip my pepper spray in the tiny bag. “I should probably go congratulate him.” I tried to inch my chair away, but Ron held it fast.

“He’s busy with the other guests.” His head turned slightly, toward the newlyweds I assumed. “I’m a friend of a friend of the bride. She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?” The covetous smile reappeared.

“Yes, she is,” I said. Coldness enveloped me when I realized all the tables around us were empty.

Options…I need options.
The door closest to me was marked Women—that’d do nicely. I tensed, planning to make a dash for the bathroom should Ron’s hold on my chair loosen even for a second.

He scrutinized me with hungry eyes. “Hey, let’s get out of here and take a walk in the garden. There’s a trail that goes down to the beach. I doubt a little hike would wear you out.” A cold finger grazed my back. Was he touching the ends of my hair?

I jerked forward, away from his hand, still unable to budge my chair. Ron was exceptionally bold, quickly moving from creepy to frightening. My thoughts turned from flight to fight.

“No thanks. I wouldn’t want to miss the action here.” I repositioned my purse in my lap so I could reach the zipper. As I did, the table moved—and another path appeared: tip the table and make a scene. Could I ruin Mitch’s celebration? What if I was misinterpreting Ron’s eagerness?

“Aw, come on, this stuff is boring anyway. It doesn’t look like anyone will miss us,” he pressed. “It’ll be a treat.”

A treat?
I had to get away from this guy! Like a song stuck on repeat, the possibilities raced around my brain, along with an adrenaline-enhanced list of Ron’s weaknesses.
Run, scream, fight, spray. Ribs, eyes, knees, groin.

Summoning all my courage, I gripped the edge of the table. Thankfully, Chase materialized beside me before I tipped it over.

“Hi. I’ve been looking for you.” He carefully avoided using my name, somehow sensing the fear surging through me. “We’re dancing as a group over in the corner. Come join us.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Okay.” Without a second glance at Ron, I pushed myself away from the table, catching my captor off guard.

In a flash, Ron wrapped his clammy hand around mine and squeezed it hard—too hard. I flinched, still trapped in my chair.

“She doesn’t dance,” he said, his nostrils flaring. I tried to free myself, but his fingers became a vise, tightening as I struggled against them.

“Get your hands off her!” someone snarled. Ron’s head whipped around, looking for the new speaker.

I took advantage of the distraction and ripped my hand out of his, jumping up so fast I slammed into Chase. He caught me, automatically wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.

Ron rose to face him, his hands bunched into fists. My new savior intervened, equally incensed:
Jason McAlister
.

I peeked up at him, my breath catching at the wrath darkening his features. His tight eyes and clenched jaw left no doubt that Jason ached to tear Ron to pieces. Fearsome and furious…and protective of
me
.

I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Ron, however, didn’t give up in the face of such obvious opposition. “We were having a
private
conversation,” he said. He reached out, attempting to angle his shoulder between me and Jason.

I shook my head violently and backed away. “I don’t know who he is, and he won’t leave me alone,” I said in defiance.

In an instant Jason caught the outstretched hand, and with startling speed, twisted it behind Ron’s back. At the same time, Chase swung around, making himself yet another barrier between me and my unwanted admirer. He drew himself up to his full height and glared down at Ron.

“Who are you?”

Ron didn’t back down, glaring up at Chase while he struggled weakly against Jason. “An invited guest,” he sneered, producing a tattered lavender card with his free hand. “How dare you treat me like this!”

Jason tightened his hold and Ron grunted. “Is that better? If you hurt her—”

Chase cleared his throat, interrupting Jason’s threat. “Guest or not, it’s time for you to go,” he commanded and snapped his fingers over his head.

When three additional tall, muscled groomsmen arrived, Ron wilted, becoming more interested in the doors than me. Ropers Todd and Alex and
bronc
rider Dave had answered their rodeo teammate’s call to arms, each quite capable of teaching Ron a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

“Get out,” Jason growled. He viciously pushed Ron toward the nearest exit.

Ron stumbled, narrowly avoiding falling across a chair. He righted himself and looked back at me, straightening his rumpled tie.

“Another time, then.” An evil grin crept across his lips until Jason took a threatening step toward him. Red-faced, Ron glanced one last time in my direction before slithering away, followed closely by Dave and Alex.

“Thanks, guys. That was spooky,” I said, my voice wavering.

Todd tipped an imaginary hat, and with a nod from Chase, returned to the dance floor. The few onlookers that had gathered dispersed as well, leaving my corner of the room quiet again. Jason didn’t turn around immediately. When he did, all evidence of his fierce anger had disappeared. He inspected me closely, looking confused. Chase’s arm was still wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

“Melissa, you’re shaking. He really scared you, didn’t he?” Chase said, loosening his grip.