“True. But I like what I’ve seen so far.”
This time Jess did roll her eyes. A girl had her limits. “Does this shtick really work for you?”
His expression turned suddenly serious and he shifted forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced, his face mere inches from hers. She could feel the heat of his legs where they bracketed her own. He’d well and truly invaded her personal space, and Jess would have edged away, but her back was right against the chair and there was nowhere to go.
“What would you prefer?” he asked, eyes boring into hers.
“What? In terms of a seduction?” She held his gaze when she said it, just to see if he flinched. He didn’t.
“Is that what this is?”
“Isn’t it?”
He seemed to give the matter some thought. “I’d probably call it flirting, but, yeah, I guess if we break it down, seduction probably better expresses my eventual goal.”
There was something incredibly appealing about confidence like that. In any other circumstances, it would be annoying as hell, but right here, right now, it was definitely working for him. And for her—despite the butterflies tangoing in her belly.
She couldn’t help but smile. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I can be. When the moment calls for it.”
“How old are you?”
A quick frown creased his forehead. “Twenty-eight. Why?”
“I’m thirty-five.”
“And?”
“And?” He was incredible. “I’m seven years older than you.”
“So?”
“Do you even remember when this song came out?” Jess gestured to the dance floor where wedding guests were bopping away to a song Jess fondly remembered from her high school days.
“I prefer classic rock from the sixties and seventies. This pop stuff is giving me a headache.”
Jess sighed. He didn’t get it.
A woman called out Sean’s name from the other side of the room. Jess looked over and saw her wave and head their way—Rob and Sean’s mother in an imposing teal-green suit. Her hair was a solid helmet of hairspray and not a strand of it moved as she strode toward them. The chunks of diamonds in each ear and around her throat sparkled almost blindingly.
“Isn’t that your mother? Does she want to talk to you?”
Sean glanced up and a pained expression crossed his face. “Not now, Mom,” he called out to the woman who was still three table lengths away.
“But, Sean—”
“Later.” He dismissed her with a careless wave.
Mrs. Paterson stopped with an expression so wounded, Jess almost wanted to make Sean apologize. But then she shot her son a look that would curdle milk and threw up her hands in exasperation. She mouthed the word typical and rolled her eyes before turning back the way she’d come. Sean didn’t see any of that, Jess noted; his gaze was back on her, and it was as if the interruption had never happened.
“Let’s dance.”
“Huh?”
“Come on.”
Jess wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but a moment later she found herself being pulled to the dance floor, her hand clasped firmly in Sean’s. He found a small clearing and let her go, turning to face her. He shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable, and raised his hands in a halfhearted accompaniment. Jess began swaying her hips, just as the boppy pop song came to a close. They were left standing, facing each other, as the strains of one of her favorite Madonna ballads began. The floor began to clear around them, hot and sweaty dancers muttering how they were grateful for a break, leaving behind couples happy to enjoy a slow dance together.
“Well, this is awkward,” she muttered.
“Sorry, I’m a crappy dancer.” He didn’t sound especially broken up by that fact. Was his confidence really that unshakable?
“It was your idea.”
“I know. Here.”
There were still a few other couples dancing, and Sean seemed to look around for inspiration before pulling Jess close, his hands resting on her lower back. Jess had no choice but to put her hands on his shoulders—solid and warm, even through the padding of his jacket.
As dances went, it wasn’t going to score them any points in a competition. But they found an easy rhythm and no one seemed to be commenting on their ineptitude.
Jess found herself staring at the shiny tuxedo buttons on his shirt, her thoughts running a million miles a minute with ideas that she had no business entertaining.
Hailey’s brother-in-law.
She should definitely not be thinking about seeing him naked. Or about what kind of kisser he’d be. Certainly not about how good he smelled, or how, if she just stepped a little closer, she’d be pressed full-length against his body. Definitely not about how his fingers were stroking her back gently through her dress, and the touch was sending ripples of sensation to other, needy, parts of her.
Until this moment she hadn’t realized how much she missed being touched.
Sean said something, but she missed the words, feeling the rumble of them instead. She looked up. “Sorry?” Luckily she’d started to speak before her eyes met his, because once they did, her breath seemed to stop somewhere halfway in her throat. He was wearing that half grin again, eyes sparkling mischievously.
“I said, you look very serious.”
“This is a serious song.”
“I guess.” He dismissed her comment with all the gravity it deserved—none—before nudging Jess’s knee with one of his own. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“What? We can’t leave. They haven’t cut the cake yet.” As much as she’d spent the past two hours desperate to get out of here, Sean’s offer of escape made her stomach flip unpleasantly at the same time as that little voice in her head cheered her on.
“Oh, like anyone’s going to notice.”
“You’re the best man.”
“Yeah, but my job’s done for the day. Get the groom to the wedding, check. Hand over the rings, check. Make the speech at dinner, check. That’s it.”
“It was a very good speech,” Jess said. Sean had spoken easily and confidently—no surprises there. He’d given a couple of the requisite humorous tales from Rob’s past and done a lovely job of sincerely wishing the happy couple a bright future. As he’d taken the microphone and begun to speak, the apprehensive and then relieved looks on the entire wedding party’s faces had to have been obvious to the whole room.
He dismissed her praise with a wave. “Thanks. So, ready to go?”
Those green eyes were staring down at her, half daring, half asking. The dare part appealed to the reckless streak that Jess mostly kept hidden—and that had certainly not seen the light of day in recent times. It was an impulse that had given her, among other things, a tattoo of a tiny star on her butt, a scar under her chin from a fall down a flight of stairs in a nightclub in Amsterdam and an occasional back twinge that hadn’t been there before she’d bungee jumped over a river in New Zealand.
“Go where?” she asked.
He dropped his hands from around her and Jess stepped back, her body already mourning the loss of contact. Sean reached into his pocket.