The Wedding Secret - Michele Dunaway Mills & Boon American Romance

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never been married?” Loretta asked. She appraised Luke like a rare commodity, and Cecile’s hackles rose. “Your father’s the real-estate developer?”

      “Right on both counts,” Luke said.

      Loretta leaned closer. “And you’ve escaped the noose this long?”

      Luke shrugged. “I was holding out for Angelina Jolie, but Brad Pitt stole her.”

      “Oh, aren’t you funny,” Loretta said, her smile wide. “I just love a sense of humor. It’s so rare to find that in a man these days. Most of them are simply too serious. Old before their time.”

      Deciding not to be a third wheel and determined to maintain self-control, Cecile began easing her way toward the bar. Perhaps in her grape bridesmaid garb she could cut the line. There had to be some privileges for wearing a hideous dress.

      “So are you here with a date?” Loretta asked Luke, expertly sliding her question into the conversation. Loretta was good, very good, Cecile thought as she somehow resisted the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. She took another step, but a firm grip grasped her left wrist and she found herself jerked backward.

      And directly up against Luke Shaw. He fitted her neatly into the curve of his right side, and somehow Cecile managed not to drop the wineglass she still held as her body responded to his on a primitive level.

      “Actually, I am taken,” Luke told Loretta before Cecile could utter one word of indignant protest about his actions. Blatant chemistry was making her want to do things with him she’d decided not to do. Then she made the mistake of looking at him.

      Those blue eyes caught Cecile’s, and she froze under his gaze’s intensity and seriousness. “You see,” Luke told Loretta with firm conviction, “Cecile’s my date.”

      Chapter Three

      She was his date? Since when?

      Luke had totally misread her conversation with Lisa. But since Loretta was staring at her oddly, Cecile closed her mouth and played along. “I’m his date,” she confirmed. The idea actually held appeal—he had her pinned against him, creating strange warmth that simply demanded exploring. The man was temptation.

      “Isn’t that sweet,” Loretta said, her recovery upon processing the announcement flawless. “You make such a lovely couple. Oh, they’re seating for dinner. We’ll catch up a little later. I do want to hear more, like how you met.”

      “That sounds great,” Cecile lied, knowing Loretta would disappear for good now that her prospect was gone. Cecile detached herself from Luke’s grasp and waved the wineglass at him as Loretta disappeared from view. “I’m your date?”

      “You have objections? I thought that served both of our purposes quite well. Still do. How can you hit on me if we’re not together?”

      Indignation roared. “Despite what you may have overheard me say on the phone, I also said I wasn’t going to hit on you. You are impossible.”

      “I try,” Luke said. “Especially if I get what I want.”

      “Lisa was teasing. And I said maybe I would pursue you, maybe I wouldn’t.” Cecile’s heart raced. He wanted her?

      “I like the ‘maybe I would’ part better,” Luke said, totally unfazed. He reached forward and took the glass from her hand before she sprinkled the wine remnants everywhere. “Let me get you a refill and I’ll meet you at the head table. Since we’re seated next to each other, we can talk, if you’re still so hot and bothered—although, trust me, I have a solution for that.”

      “I’m not hot and bothered,” Cecile lied, but Luke simply strode off knowing the truth.

      Her body craved his. Her mind liked his and he met her challenge for challenge. The chemistry flared almost out of control in all areas, especially the ones that mattered. She would be sitting next to the most infuriating man in the room. And the most attractive. Cecile made her way to her assigned spot. The bride and groom were already seated, and all around the room the guests were settling down at their tables.

      Once the minister finished the blessing, a movement to her left indicated Luke had arrived. He set down her wine. “Thanks,” Cecile said.

      “You’re welcome,” Luke replied. “I’m totally at your service. Anything you need.”

      More loaded words, Cecile thought as a shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. Luke Shaw was not the type of man you could use up and then spit out. He was the type a girl should savor, like fine wine. Despite her earlier resolution, she was tempted to indulge…if only a little. Luke was like no man she’d ever met before. The pendulum was swinging toward “maybe I should.”

      “What are you thinking?” Luke whispered.

      She twitched slightly, his breath causing her skin to warm. “I was thinking of grabbing one of those rolls,” she said, lying again.

      “Master of the art of changing the conversation,” Luke declared.

      “Absolutely,” Cecile said. “I’m like a cat. I always land on my feet.”

      “Do you purr like a cat, too?” he asked, his tone smooth. “Would you like me to scratch you behind your ears?”

      Thankfully she didn’t have to reply to his question as the main course arrived. She quickly discovered she was too wired to eat the combination chicken-and-steak entrée. She picked at the delicious-looking salad and passed on the rolls.

      Maybe the wine was going to her head. Her face did feel a little tingly, as if she’d used a good astringent. She picked up her fork and forced herself to eat the chicken so that something besides alcohol was in her stomach. Still, she didn’t say no when the roving waiter came by and refilled her wineglass. She wasn’t driving but instead taking a cab out to her parents’ house in the suburbs.

      “So are you going to dance with me?” Luke asked when Elizabeth and Devon went to cut the cake.

      “I think we’re scheduled to share one dance,” Cecile said. The bride and groom’s first number was a waltz, but she wasn’t sure about the music for the wedding party dance that followed.

      “I meant after that,” Luke said, suddenly serious. “Despite my earlier corny lines, I’d like to get to know you.”

      “Let’s see how the first one goes,” Cecile said, his seriousness shaking her slightly. Just when she thought she had Luke pegged, he changed the rules. “I’ve always said you can judge a man by how he moves,” she admitted.

      “You have?” Luke’s expression was one of interest.

      “Oh, you can absolutely tell,” Cecile said with a nod. “My sorority sisters and I used to bet on it. Like if a man dances like a constipated hamster. Or does the sprinkler.”

      “The sprinkler?”

      “Yeah, when you put one hand behind your head like this—” Cecile put her left hand behind her head so that her elbow pointed outward “—then your right arm extends straight out and sweeps back and forth like one of those pulsating water jets.” Cecile demonstrated.

      Luke winced. “Yeah, I admit, that’s pretty bad. Very common. And bad. Not one of my gender’s finer examples.”

      Cecile drew her breath sharply through her teeth. “Exactly. Avoid at all costs.”

      “So if he’s horrid on the dance floor, does that mean he’s terrible in other endeavors, as well?”

      “Eight times out of ten,” Cecile admitted. Her face reddened and she took a long sip of wine and stole a glance at him over the rim.

      Luke appeared suitably horrified. Then he winked. “Lucky for you, I don’t dance like that.”

      “We’ll

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