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The Wedding Secret
Michele Dunaway
She Was Under His SpellAfter landing a plum position at the hottest talk show in the country, Cecile Duletsky is ready for just about anything. Anything but a complicated relationship, that is. When she meets gorgeous Luke Shaw at her sister's wedding, though, Cecile feels a powerful attraction. What would it hurt to spend one fabulous night with him?He Planned To Keep Her ThereWhatever Luke wants, Luke gets. After Cecile disappears from his bed, Luke's not entirely sure how to react. But that's before he shows up for work and meets Cecile–his new employee–in the boardroom. Just being her boss isn't enough…and he's determined to make sure the next time he walks down the aisle, Cecile's on his arm.



“Do you believe in wedding magic?” Cecile asked
Luke frowned. “Define what you mean.”
“The feeling that there’s something in the air at weddings. Something that makes people do things they shouldn’t.”
He nodded. “I know what you’re talking about. From the first moment I saw you, I wasn’t settling for anything less. Why else would I leave when you did?” He’d moved toward her, almost as close as he’d been during their first slow dance.
She’d been seduced before, but never like this. Luke was out of her league. Her body hummed. “You don’t make anything easy, do you?”
“Never.” He ran a finger down her bare arm. “I get what I want, Cecile. Always have, always will.”
“And what do you want?” she said, her breath lodging in her throat as she waited for his reply.
“You.” His tone was forceful and determined. A thrill shot through her. “And I definitely want this.”
With that, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.
Dear Reader,
I love weddings and wedding magic. This past April and July, I had a chance to attend two weddings, each for one of my work colleagues. Watching them say their vows and seeing how much love existed between them gave me such a happy feeling. Weddings are that one moment in time when everything is magic, when the future is unlimited. I have no doubt that each of my colleagues will live happily ever after.
For Cecile, though, weddings are a reminder that her future hasn’t quite turned out as she envisioned it. When her best friend announces her own impending nuptials, Cecile worries that life might be passing her by. Determined to at least have a grand passion, Cecile lets the magic sweep her into the arms of Luke Shaw. There’s just one little problem. When she begins her new dream job, Cecile learns that Luke is her boss—and her company has a “no fraternization” policy. So what’s a girl going to do to win her man? Turn the pages and find out!
I hope you enjoy The Wedding Secret, the second book in my AMERICAN BEAUTIES miniseries. Please join me when Tori’s story, Nine Months' Notice, concludes the series in April 2007.
Until then, enjoy the romance and feel free to drop me an e-mail at michele@micheledunaway.com. Happy reading.
All the best,


The Wedding Secret
Michele Dunaway


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In first grade, Michele Dunaway wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, and by second grade she wanted to be an author. By third grade, she was determined to be both, and before her high school class reunion, she’d succeeded. In addition to writing romance, Michele is a nationally recognized high school English and journalism educator. Born and raised in a west county suburb of St. Louis, Michele has traveled extensively, with the cities and places she’s visited often becoming settings for her stories. Described as a woman who does too much but doesn’t know how to stop, Michele gardens five acres in her spare time and shares her life with two young daughters, six lazy house cats, one dwarf rabbit and two tankfuls of fish.
Michele loves to hear from readers. You can reach her via her Web site, www.micheledunaway.com (http://www.micheledunaway.com).

Books by Michele Dunaway
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
988—THE PLAYBOY’S PROTÉGÉE
1008—ABOUT LAST NIGHT…
1044—UNWRAPPING MR. WRIGHT
1056—EMERGENCY ENGAGEMENT
1100—LEGALLY TENDER
1116—CAPTURING THE COP
1127—THE MARRIAGE CAMPAIGN* (#litres_trial_promo)
For Oprah Winfrey, thanks for being a voice of the people. You have made a positive difference in the lives of so many. And to Jennifer Green, thanks for being such a terrific editor who’s willing to push me where I need it.

Contents
Chapter One (#u05e032c0-0c48-54f3-866c-b8c8c33db4a5)
Chapter Two (#ub50efcb1-1154-5686-a77d-79e1b90a4dd9)
Chapter Three (#u22659f6e-cd14-5ce2-bed4-c46b311f1018)
Chapter Four (#u654705f4-5271-5b9c-874f-8807a6b925ea)
Chapter Five (#u12ed6c8d-8cb9-57f5-ba44-6a2b357a2c87)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One
He was the man she was fated to walk down the aisle with, a man she barely knew. As Cecile Duletsky took a steadying breath, she told herself she would not kill her sister.
At least not today, her wedding day.
Okay, if Cecile were honest, it wasn’t exactly her younger sister’s fault that in less than one hour Cecile would march down the long, white-runner-covered aisle of St. Donovan’s Church on the arm of Luke Shaw, a man hotter than a summer day. A man who, when Cecile had first spoken to him last night during the rehearsal dinner, had made her feel undressed with just the twinkle of his blue eyes.
The way Cecile figured it, she should have been allowed to walk down the aisle by herself, as she had at any other wedding she’d been in. But no, someone higher up on her sister’s wedding party chain of command had overruled Cecile in the interest of making the exceedingly long July ceremony all of two tiny minutes shorter.
Cecile figured the same higher-up had to have picked out the horrifying purple bridesmaid dress she was wearing. Her sister, Elizabeth, couldn’t have become this tasteless in the eleven years the two sisters had been apart. Even the most uneducated fashionista would have known better.
But the hideously oversize bow settling directly over Cecile’s bosom proved otherwise, especially as it smashed all of her assets into oblivion instead of enhancing them. The dress added ten pounds to Cecile’s figure—the same ten that a daily workout regime assured never touched her slim hips.
The reality was that Elizabeth Duletsky’s bridal party looked like grapes gone sour.
At least Cecile’s long strawberry-blond hair was up, lifted and twisted just this morning into a high chignon that gave her the appearance of a long swanlike neck.
She’d refused to let the makeup artist hired for the occasion touch her face, opting instead to do her own makeup. Considering the blatant amount of kohl eyeliner on some of the bridesmaids, Cecile knew she’d made a wise choice. Her skin was pale and creamy, a blessing of Irish genetics somewhere in her very mixed lineage. She had green eyes—toss a green costume on her and she could pass for a cute leprechaun. She often had, twice a year—once for St. Patrick’s Day and the other for Halloween.
“So are you nervous?” some silly bridesmaid tittered at Cecile’s sister. The dark-headed one in the family, Elizabeth sipped her mimosa before shaking her head and replying, “No.”
Cecile stood and stepped back from the scene unfolding in the church’s anteroom. Unlike the rest of the bridesmaids, who were also all married, Cecile wasn’t partaking in the champagne-and-orange-juice concoction the wedding coordinator had provided to settle any last-minute bridal party jitters. Besides, Cecile had always thought it wiser to drink after the event. Speaking of said event…
She glanced at her bare left wrist and sighed. No matter how pretty, she’d been told her Cartier watch didn’t fit the wedding’s dress code and so her favorite accessory was tucked away in her purse. Hopefully it was almost time for the evening nuptials to begin.
The bridal party had been secluded for the last hour, left to the mimosas and their own devices. Of course, the mother of the bride, the mother of the groom and the wedding coordinator and her army of assistants had kept popping in to make final adjustments to some imaginary something.
Cecile’s parents, especially her mother, Clarann, were in heaven. Even the groom’s family was thrilled. And each family had spent a small fortune for the nuptials to be absolutely perfect.
As for Cecile, she would have been satisfied watching the blessed event from a safe spot in a pew. But the wedding coordinator had insisted on Cecile’s presence in the wedding party, saying it would be a major faux pas if the elder sister were left out.
So Cecile had been tossed into the proverbial mix, fitted for a purple dress and surrounded by five additional attendants, all friends of Elizabeth from her college days at Northwestern University. Elizabeth’s best friend had garnered maid of honor duties, but Cecile really hadn’t minded.
Heck, given her choice, if Cecile ever found the right guy, she’d take the money her parents were spending, elope and buy a sports car. Something cherry-red with a convertible top.
Cecile paced the small room, sending perfunctory smiles to anyone who happened to glance her way. All this money for one day seemed so…overblown.
Deep down she was happy for her sister, and Cecile berated herself as guilt crept in. Twenty-nine was too young to be this cynical, but she’d resigned herself.
She’d long ago pledged to have it all—she and her three friends Lisa, Tori and Joann had made a champagne pact upon graduation. But Cecile had quickly thrown off the naiveté and blinders of college. Over eight years later, Cecile hadn’t reached the top and hadn’t found the man of her dreams—most of them had been duds.
Her sister’s nuptials were showing how flawed Cecile was, and she didn’t like the exposure. Despite their not being close, Elizabeth was her sister, and today of all days Cecile should be consumed with overwhelming joy. But instead she was morbidly considering how her own life had gone astray.
To her disgust, she’d become like one of the guests on the talk shows she produced: “My sister married before me and I’m miserable.” “My sister has it all and I don’t.” “My only consolation is that the dress is ugly!”
She did have to admit she was slightly jealous of Elizabeth and Devon, as well. Anyone could look at them and see how much they loved each other. Theirs was a marriage that everyone knew would last. Maybe that was what was putting Cecile into a slight funk, keeping her from being ecstatic that her little sister had found the man of her dreams.
Cecile couldn’t even keep her live-in boyfriend, Eric, from straying. She’d been traveling and producing morning-show segments and had come home early one day to find him and another woman in her bedroom. It still bothered her that she could have misjudged their relationship so much.
Weddings also reminded Cecile that life was passing her by—that while perhaps she would have the great career she’d vowed to have, she might not necessarily have a man to go with it. Jaded by a string of wrong turns, she’d preferred relationships with a bunch of temporary, superficial Mr. Right Nows. Surface emotions were easier to handle, and it hurt less when the relationship ended.
Besides, after producing several “My husband cheated with my best friend and she’s having his baby” shows, Cecile would rather be alone than become part of the half-the-marriages-fail statistic.
Cecile fingered the purple fabric that reflected the light worse than a cheap shower curtain liner. She and Elizabeth weren’t exactly buddies—the five-year age difference between them had meant that Cecile had left for college before her sister had even started high school.
Cecile really did love her sister and wanted to grow closer, perhaps eventually as close as Cecile was to her three best friends, Joann, Lisa and Tori. They’d shared confidences since pledging the same sorority together: Rho Sigma Gamma—the Roses.
Now that Cecile had returned to her hometown of Chicago, maybe she and her sister could forge a real friendship that didn’t just involve swapping obligatory Christmas and birthday presents. Maybe they could find some common ground.
Cecile had been gone a while. She’d left home at eighteen for the University of Missouri—Columbia’s fabled journalism school—and after graduation she’d been working at a variety of television jobs.
Now she was back home, ready to start her new job as an assistant producer for The Allegra Montana Show, meaning she’d be responsible for producing one to two shows per week. While her title read assistant, that only applied to her pay. Aside from the show runner who oversaw all the segment producers, Cecile had the same production responsibilities as everyone else.
Allegra’s talk show had been climbing in ratings and popularity for the past three years, especially after a former talk-show host had canceled his show to run for political office. Allegra, who served as executive producer and on-screen talent, had moved into both his vacant studios and his coveted afternoon time slot and never looked back. Her show covered everything from political commentary to celebrity cook-offs.
Chicago was home to many popular talk-show studios, and Cecile’s starting date had provided her with just enough time to finish her former job in New York City and cram in her sister’s wedding. She’d also managed to find time to rent a Cathedral District apartment which was undergoing some last-minute maintenance. While her stuff had been delivered, Cecile wouldn’t occupy the place until Sunday.
At the corner of State Street and Superior, the fifty-two-floor building came complete with a whole-foods store, a pool on the seventh floor and a health club. While Cecile’s unit didn’t have a lake view, she’d fallen in love with the location, which was only a few blocks west of the Water Tower. She was still almost in the heart of downtown.
Cecile returned her attention to her sister. They were so different, both in looks and temperament. Elizabeth worked for a charity, doing communications work. She planned to work only until her first child, which she would start trying for immediately. Her husband was turning thirty-four in September. An up-and-coming orthopedic surgeon in an already-established practice, Elizabeth and Devon had bought a big house in Barrington a block or two over from both “Grandmas” and started renovations for when the stork arrived.
That was one area of which Cecile wasn’t envious. Even though she’d be thirty August fifteenth, no biological clock ticked in her head. Women in their forties had children. Heck, women had children without men. She’d produced a show on the very subject only a few months ago.
“Whose phone is ringing?” someone suddenly asked, jarring Cecile’s reverie. The bridesmaids, happily buzzed on mimosas, chimed “Not mine” one after the other.
Cecile blinked. By now everyone was staring at her, and she realized it was her cell phone loudly trilling “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” An avid sports fan, the jingle had been the perfect download.
All the bridesmaids had been given matching purple sequined purses, and Cecile squatted down to remove the phone from the bag resting at her feet. The custom ringtone meant one thing—the caller was one of her three best friends. She glanced at the number. Lisa. A very welcome intrusion.
“Excuse me,” Cecile said as she straightened, the floor-length fabric rustling. “I need to take this call. I’ll only be a moment.”
She ignored the group’s speculation and opened the heavy wooden door. The church hallway was cool, and as she stepped onto the marble floor, she could see guests arriving in the church’s narthex. Cecile pressed the talk button, catching her former roommate’s call before it rolled to voice mail.
“Hey, Lisa, what’s up?” Cecile said. “You just saved me from sitting any longer in a room full of tipsy bridesmaids. Please tell me we weren’t like that when we were twenty-four.”
“I don’t think so,” Lisa said. “At least not all the time. But you’re busy, so, Cecile, I’ll make this quick. You won’t believe it, but Mark and I are getting married!”
“Congrats,” Cecile said. Her brow wrinkled as the significance of the announcement dawned. Lisa—married? Cecile had to admit she was stunned. They’d always joked that Lisa would be the last one wed. Had she really said married? Was she…?
“And, no, I’m not pregnant,” Lisa said, laughing as if anticipating the question. “I’m in love.”
“Wow. That was fast.” Cecile said, catching her breath to hide her shock. Lisa wasn’t the impulsive type, and when Cecile had last seen Lisa a few weeks ago during Cecile’s layover in St. Louis, Lisa had been wrestling with starting one of those “friends with benefits” relationships with Mark.
So married. Already? No one should get married this fast, unless perhaps they were trying out for a Valentine’s Day talk show or a free wedding gown.
“It happens that way,” Lisa said as if reading Cecile’s thoughts again. “You know what this means, don’t you? I’m not going to be the last one married anymore. And since Tori’s too busy with Jeff to ever settle down, that means one thing. Cecile, the order’s changed. You, my friend, are next.”
Cecile frowned. She knew all about the “order.” On the night before their sorority initiation, the girls had been camped out in the common room. Dreaming of the future, they’d predicted the order of their marriages. They’d also selected who’d be the maid of honor for whom. Thus, Lisa had stood next to Joann, who’d married right out of college. Cecile would stand next to Lisa. Tori would stand next to Cecile. And Joann would stand next to Tori, making the circle complete.
“I’m hardly next,” Cecile said with a disbelieving snort, thrilled for her friend yet cynical about her prediction. “It would take a man for that, and I certainly don’t have one of those in the picture at this moment.”
“No one?” Lisa said, sounding like a woman in love who wants everyone to be as happy as she. “I guess we really didn’t get to talk much about your love life when you were here. But you always have a guy waiting in the wings somewhere. Surely there’s someone.”
There was always someone, just not the one. Cecile wanted that deep emotional connection and refused to settle until she found it. A noise sounded behind her, but Cecile dismissed it. “I wish I could tell you I’m dating someone, but I just relocated. I have a new career. No time.”
“I’d just relocated to St. Louis and look what happened to me,” Lisa said.
Cecile pointed her foot and touched the tip of her shoe to the floor, her body full of pent-up energy. “Lisa, you know I love you, but no boyfriends are on my radar. Besides, there’s always Bob. He’s much easier to deal with than love. Much simpler.”
“TMI!” Lisa shouted before she began laughing. “Oh, you kill me. I do not want to know if you have a battery-operated boyfriend.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t,” Cecile said, smiling. Talking to Lisa always chased away the doldrums, especially as she was easy to tease. “However, if I ever tell you I’m dating Bob, you’ll know that my life as I know it is over. Put me on a talk show. I will have given up on men.”
“I just said I didn’t want to know. Now I know why I stopped being roommates with you. You are way too blunt with information.”
Cecile could hear the mirth in Lisa’s voice. Funny how she could just pick up and talk to Lisa as if it were yesterday. “Ha-ha. The real reason we split up was because I got a job in New York and had to move away.”
“Yeah, be technical,” Lisa said, her amusement obvious. “Anyway, I know you’re at your sister’s wedding so I’ll cut this short. Just like we planned all those years ago, I want you to be my maid of honor. It’s time.”
“Of course you can count on me,” Cecile said, warmth tingling her toes. While she might be a little shocked by the sudden turn of events, she knew Lisa better than she knew her own sister. If Lisa had decided Mark Smith was the one, then he was. “You know I’d be honored to stand by your side when you get married.” Even if it means enduring another wedding, another reminder that perhaps my Mr. Right doesn’t exist.
“Thank you. I know it’s sudden. But, Cecile, I love him. He’s always been the one, even after the fiasco at Joann’s reception. We’ve wasted eight years, and I refuse to wait anymore now that we’re finally together. I’ll tell you all the details next time I see you—or at least talk to you when you aren’t needed elsewhere.”
“You’d better,” Cecile said automatically. “I think I rate a scoop after everything we’ve been through.” They’d pledged the sorority together, shared initiation rituals, gossip and dreams. They’d even shared an apartment for a while.
But it was still a bit surreal to imagine Lisa getting married, especially to Mark Smith, a man she’d despised and labeled a playboy. There had to be a show in that: “I’m marrying the man I always thought I hated.”
“Look, my sister’s wedding is about to start,” Cecile told Lisa. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“That’s fine. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I wanted you to know first. I still haven’t called Tori. She’s next.”
“Well, go call her. She’ll hate you if you don’t tell her within a few hours of calling me,” Cecile joked.
“I’ll call her the moment I hang up. And you go pick up some hunky groomsman. I’m sure he’d be better in bed than Bob any day.”
Cecile laughed at that. “I don’t know. Bob can be pretty low-maintenance.”
“You’ll never change. Find someone human. Someone sexy,” Lisa insisted.
“He’d have to be much better than that for me to consider it.”
“There has to be someone,” Lisa persisted. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to loosen up. Come on,” she cajoled, “surely there’s one person who might fit the bill?”
“There is. The guy I have to walk down the aisle with. Luke Shaw. Surfer-boy looks. Body to die for. Charisma and class.” And that dimple in his cheek had been so tempting, making any woman want to trace it after making love…
Luke was a real flesh-and-blood man, not a fantasy. Still, what would he be like?
“He sounds absolutely scrumptious. Go for it,” Lisa said, jolting Cecile back to the present.
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t,” Cecile said. She certainly didn’t need to be considering having sex with Luke Shaw, no matter how attractive the guy was. Her focus should be on saying goodbye and getting back to the wedding, not that she wanted to do either. “Right now forget my troubles and consider yourself getting a big hug through the phone. You are very lucky and I’m thrilled for you. Unlike me needing to get through today.”
“That bad?” Lisa said, prolonging the conversation one more minute, as they had so often done in the past.
“Oh, yes,” Cecile said with a nod. “So before I let you go, promise you’ll do me one favor.”
“What? You know I’ll do anything.”
Cecile used her free hand to finger the fabric of her gown. “That’s good, because I’m going to send you a photo of this dress. If you care about me, don’t make me wear anything this hideous again. I look like a fat purple grape.”
Lisa began to laugh, and Cecile realized how much she missed her friend. “I promise not to torture you,” Lisa said. “Go survive and be sure to have at least one drink for me. And don’t forget to hit on that guy.”
“As soon as this thing’s over, I’m having at least two. As for hitting on Luke? We’ll see. You know I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”
“Start tomorrow afternoon,” Lisa joked before saying her goodbyes.
Yes, but starting tomorrow afternoon would sort of defeat the whole purpose of beginning anew. Upon her return to Chicago, Cecile had set three goals. One, excel at her career. Two, become closer with her sister. And three, try to avoid Mr. Right Now and instead find Mr. Right. So no matter how much she might be tempted, she’d decided to hold out for something that at least had potential. New city. New attempt.
Cecile ended the call, closed the phone and turned. She then did a double take and took a much-needed step back.
Luke Shaw hovered about five feet away, as if waiting for her. He gave her a killer smile that made the big, bad wolf seem tame. Damn, but the man did something to her equilibrium. Already her skin heated, as if he’d run a finger down her arm instead of just giving her a smoldering glance.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

Chapter Two
Cecile winced. How long had he been there? How much had he overheard? Had he heard her say she thought he had a body to die for? Had he understood her meaning when she’d said, “Maybe I will”?
If so, he wasn’t telling. He stood there and stared at her, a poker facade having fallen into place. Cecile blinked and tried to read him. She’d been having a conversation—a private conversation—involving Bobs and picking up groomsmen.
“Is there something wrong?” Luke asked, that sexy voice of his low and deep. It rumbled over her, sending some foreign sensation to her toes.
He’d overheard her. She was certain of it, especially when that devastatingly handsome smile of his widened suddenly. He was Mr. Charming and he knew it.
But two could play at this game. So like a cat that always landed on her feet, Cecile quickly found her poise. She had a lifetime of experience in handling men like Luke Shaw—they’d come out of the woodwork ever since she’d passed that awkward stage and developed breasts.
“I would say that the only thing wrong is that you’ve crept up on me. One should be able to have a private conversation in a church, don’t you agree?”
He laughed at that, another deep rumble that sounded great. “Sorry if I surprised you, but I was sent to find you. Not my fault or intention to surprise you,” Luke said, his big wide hands open in a gesture of mock defense for his loitering.
“So let me guess—someone got all panicky that, instead of indulging in mimosas, I escaped,” Cecile said.
“Devon’s mother,” Luke confirmed. “Although when I was told to find a missing bridesmaid, I wasn’t surprised to discover you were the one I was searching for.”
“I must have errant stamped on my forehead,” Cecile said. “I had a phone call I needed to take, of which I’m sure you got quite an earful since you chose to eavesdrop.”
Luke shrugged, his countenance not the slightest bit guilty or sheepish. “I will admit to hearing some of it. Good news, I gathered, and some other parts that sounded rather intriguing.”
“Yes, I’m sure you were flattered to hear your name,” Cecile said. “But I doubt that’s anything new. The gist is that I just learned my best friend is getting married and I’m going to be her maid of honor.”
“Congratulations,” Luke said.
Cecile took a moment to size him up. With her heels, they stood eye to eye, and since she was five foot ten, that made him about six feet. He was trim and his tux fit. Perfectly.
She swallowed and rallied. “As to the other part, Lisa just wanted to know if there were any single men here tonight. I couldn’t disappoint her.”
“I’m glad I could help out,” Luke said, his blue eyes twinkling. “In fact, I happen to agree with you one hundred percent on my attributes. If you’d like, I’d be happy to return the favor and list yours. That is, if Bob won’t mind and think you’re hitting on me. I’d hate to stop you from turning over a new leaf.”
“Believe me, you won’t,” Cecile said, regaining the upper hand. “Not that I date anyone named Bob. Really, I’m sure we should be getting back.”
As if by kismet, Devon’s mother approached, her loud “There you both are!” echoing off the walls. “Luke, I send you to find her and you get lost, too!”
“Sorry,” Luke said. He bent down and kissed the petite woman’s cheek. “Got distracted. Cecile was telling me about Bob.”
“Bob? Is he here, at the wedding?” Amanda Pinewood asked.
Luke was a cad, and Cecile resisted the childish urge to stomp on his foot. He had overheard and understood everything and he wasn’t afraid to tease her with it. As if confirming his rogueness, Luke winked as Cecile sputtered, “Uh, no, Bob’s not here.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Amanda said, relieved. “It’s time to line up, and you two are not in your proper place.”
“Heaven forbid,” Luke teased, that wicked smile of his widening again. Cecile knew that Luke and Devon had grown up as next-door neighbors and buddies. Luke held his arm out to Cecile. “Shall we?”
She’d had to touch him last night at the rehearsal. Then, he’d caused her metabolism to shift into fast-forward, as if she’d just chugged an energy drink. A big believer in chemistry, Cecile wasn’t sure what type of pheromones Luke possessed, but he oozed them. Especially now, when they were all directed at her.
But she was Cecile Duletsky, talk-show producer and woman who’d met celebrities on a daily basis when she’d been a talent procurer. She could handle Luke Shaw.
Cecile slipped her bare arm in his, the smooth feel of his tuxedo creating friction against her bare skin. She tried to ignore the immediate heat, but it was near impossible to ignore the presence of the man who walked easily by her side as if he somehow belonged there.
Ushers were working to get the last guests seated so the ceremony could start. Belatedly Cecile remembered her cell phone. She glanced in horror at the silver device still dangling from the strap on her wrist.
“Let me,” Luke said, his deep voice close to her ear as he leaned into her. He slid the phone from her wrist, the gesture intimate. Quickly he pressed a few buttons to silence the ringer and then slipped the phone inside his jacket pocket. He grinned. “You can get it from me later.”
Later. That word had been loaded.
Wedding magic, Cecile decided. That was all this tickling sensation Luke Shaw incited was, nothing more. She could produce an entire talk-show episode on wedding magic entitled “Wedding secrets—who else shared the night besides the bride and groom?”
While wedding magic wasn’t anything tangible, the results often were. For some reason, all the happiness in the air at weddings often led to many singles hooking up. No one wanted to be alone when two people were making a lifetime commitment.
Heck, even Lisa and Mark had shared a passionate kiss in the hallway outside Joann’s reception eight years ago. Now they were getting married, proof that wedding magic was real and could lead to something more than one night.
Cecile had arrived solo to Elizabeth’s nuptials. She was family and she’d learned long ago that when you were a member of a bridal party, it was often better to attend the official events alone unless you were really serious about some guy.
Luke Shaw was attending stag, as well, according to Elizabeth, who had seen fit to impart the information to Cecile just last night. Her sister had even added that Luke wasn’t dating anyone. Cecile hadn’t misread her sister’s matchmaking attempt and she didn’t believe she was currently misreading Luke’s not-so-subtle signals that he was interested, especially as he took her arm when the string quartet began the processional music.
“You’re starting to fit there,” he whispered.
Cecile sucked in her breath and smiled. Yep. Luke was one hot package, and the pendulum of maybe indulging versus maybe not was swinging back and forth. Was she interested in indulging in a little wedding magic? Cecile wasn’t one who let the good catches get by without a little taste.
Yet she’d set a goal to stop wasting time on Mr. Man of the Moment, a resolution Lisa had told Cecile to start tomorrow. Luke chose that second to reach over with his free hand, lightly touching the arm she’d looped through his. Heat increased between them and Cecile shifted. Reality was, she knew nothing about him except that he lived in Chicago and he was Devon’s best friend. Time to swing the pendulum back the other direction, toward “better not.”
“Ready?” Luke arched a blond brow in her direction, and Cecile tried not to shiver with desire. She doubted she’d ever be prepared to totally take on this man. He wasn’t like other guys who she could best or control. Instinct told her that in a match of wills, the battle would be close and the victor not predictable.
“I’m good to go,” Cecile said bravely.
And with that, Luke and Cecile headed down the aisle.
They didn’t speak to each other again until after the ceremony, when he took her arm and they followed the newly married couple out. She lost him when she went to stand in the family receiving line, found him again during endless wedding party pictures that seemed to last ages. He disappeared when the photographer began the multigenerational family shots, which took forever since her entire family was there—her mother, father, Elizabeth and a bunch of aunts, uncles and cousins that Cecile saw only at events like these.
“Fun, isn’t this?” her father asked during a father-daughter picture. Being in his late fifties, his hair had grayed substantially.
“Elizabeth’s very happy. That’s what matters,” Cecile said.
“Just promise me you’ll elope,” her dad joked as the photographer gestured Elizabeth over for the next photo.
“No need to even mention me and marriage in the same sentence,” Cecile said. “Lisa’s engaged, though. You remember Lisa?”
“I do. Tell her to elope. Invest the money instead.”
Cecile laughed, and as Elizabeth arrived to join them, everyone paid attention to the photographer’s instructions. By the time the photos were finally finished, all Cecile wanted was a pair of comfortable tennis shoes. Barring that, she wanted a very large glass of white wine.
The limos were waiting for the last of the immediate family; the other guests and wedding party members were already enjoying an open bar and appetizers at the Millennium Knickerbocker’s Crystal Ballroom while they waited for the bride and groom to arrive.
“You look like you could use this,” a deep voice said when Cecile finally walked into the reception. “The line’s terrible.”
“Thanks.” Cecile turned and gained a sudden new appreciation for Luke Shaw as she took the wineglass he offered. The line for the bar was eight deep.
“Just stick with me,” Luke said. “I know my way around these things.”
“I can tell,” Cecile murmured appreciatively as she rolled the wine over her tongue. “So are you giving a toast?” she asked.
“That’s Devon’s brother’s job, and I’m glad of it,” Luke admitted cheekily. “Can’t stand the things. ‘To the bride and groom. May your love last a lifetime and all that happy jazz.’”
Cecile arched her eyebrow. Here was a man she could identify with, especially if this was his attitude. “You sound cynical.”
“Realistic?” Luke queried. “Don’t weddings make all the single people feel like they’re left out of some exclusive club?”
“Yes, they do, and you’re a brave man to admit it,” Cecile said.
That fabulous grin widened, revealing naturally pearly whites.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Luke said. “Of course, now I’m going to have to think of one for you. Can’t be something cheesy or trite, though, or given right at this moment. Better when you don’t expect it, that way you’ll get the full effect.”
Down, girl, Cecile told herself at his innuendo. She reminded herself that she’d earlier resolved not to get swept up in the wedding magic. And Luke was obviously a flirt. Cecile hadn’t had a chance to question her sister further about the man, but any female with half a brain could gauge Luke Shaw’s type.
Even Cecile couldn’t say she was unaffected. He was like a tickle—welcome and yet needing to be stopped at the same time. He was sexy, and already other unattached women were giving him the eye. In fact, one of them was making her way over now. Cecile plastered on a smile as the daughter of one of her father’s business associates came over. Cecile hadn’t seen her since high school, but one thing could be said about Loretta—years later, the blonde was still stunning.
“Cecile,” Loretta said in greeting. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in ages. You look terrific.” She turned to Luke. “Hi, I’m Loretta Foster.”
“Luke Shaw,” he said easily as he shook her hand. Cecile noticed that Loretta’s ring finger was bare, and that jogged a memory—Cecile’s parents had told her last Christmas about Loretta’s wedding and the subsequent scandal when her husband had had an affair with his secretary only a few months later.
“It’s nice to meet you, Luke,” Loretta said, her attention fully on him.
Cecile’s negative reaction to Loretta’s interest in Luke startled her. Surely Cecile couldn’t be jealous. She hardly knew Luke. She might think he was sexy, but she wasn’t going to pursue him. Or would she say yes if he asked her out? With her new career needing her full focus, she’d been thinking only of the wedding reception when talking earlier with Lisa, but suddenly the idea of a date with Luke held appeal. And so did not letting anyone else have him.
Cecile glanced at her wineglass. Time for a refill and some much-needed space so that she could figure out exactly why she suddenly felt muddled and as if she were walking on quicksand. Cecile focused. Loretta must have told Luke she was divorced, for she was saying, “Sometimes it just takes a person twice to get it right. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Luke said easily, his tone light. Cecile avoided meeting his glance and made the mistake of looking at Loretta.
“You’ve 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 see,” Cecile commented, the rush of adrenaline sending a jolt through her. She sipped her wine and stared at the empty glass. How had that happened so fast? Time to switch to water. If not, she’d probably do something she’d regret. Like jump Luke Shaw and find out what kind of moves he had, starting with planting her lips on his. She had no doubt he could kiss, and new leaf be darned. She understood now why men rammed their ships on the rocks when exposed to the sirens.
Kissing Luke was a delectable-sounding idea but, unfortunately, probably not a very wise one.
Then again, Cecile wasn’t known for wise decisions when it came to men. Unlike Lisa, Cecile was impulsive. Mr. Right always turned into Mr. Wrong. It was a fact of her life. Cecile rose to her feet, her mind waffling. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…” she said.
Luke stood also, a chivalrous gesture indicating good breeding and refined manner. He had to stop impressing her! Requiring space, Cecile headed for the sanctity of the ladies’ room. Getting her bearings and wits together was probably a smart idea. The man had crawled under her skin, made her want things she’d best avoid. He made her want to throw caution to the wind. He invited her to play with danger.
All night he’d had the upper hand, probably from overhearing her conversation. But Cecile wasn’t one who left the status quo alone, especially when it wasn’t tilted in her favor. She was almost thirty and ready to get serious about having it all. She was tired of simply attending weddings—darn it, she wanted her own.
She wanted marriage and a husband and a career. She had no idea what Luke’s intentions were beyond the obvious that involved getting her horizontal.
But she could say no, no matter how tempted she was. Right?
LUKE WATCHED AS Cecile made her way toward the ballroom exit. Ladies’ room, he surmised. She wove her way through the room, her posture tall and strong despite having had a lot of wine in a short period of time.
Her body had a natural sway to it, one that enticed despite being clad in purple fabric that did little to enhance. Luke had made a career out of studying people and he liked the lines of Cecile’s neck. He liked the way her mouth moved and the way she raised both eyebrows when she gave him her dubious look.
He hadn’t met a woman who’d interested him this much in a long, long time, which made toying with her fun. He’d pushed to see exactly how much she’d dish back. She’d met his challenges directly, which had impressed the heck out of him.
As for naming her his date, that pronouncement had taken even him by surprise, but once he’d voiced the words, he’d immediately been glad he’d said it. His better ideas often arrived spur-of-the-moment.
The idea of spending time with Cecile appealed. She reminded him of one of those traditional Greek statues. She had classic features that didn’t come from plastic surgery or perfectly applied makeup. He could sense a realism to Cecile that mirrored his own. He guessed that she lived with both feet planted fully in the moment, just as he did.
Bottom line, she was a person he wanted to get to know. In more ways than one.
But as Luke was thirty-five, he was beyond the one-night-stand mentality of his younger days. Sure, having sex was pleasurable, but the older he got, the more he realized quality was more important than quantity. He wanted to savor, to appreciate the woman. To enjoy her company for as long as it was mutually agreeable.
Luke hadn’t met a woman like Cecile Duletsky in forever. Thankfully he was still seated, for parts of him had stirred to attention. Luke reached for his water goblet. He drained the contents in one long swallow, but that did little to quench the thirst he’d developed.
At this point in his life, he’d reached the place where he wanted it all, starting with finding the right woman who could hold her own. After all, he had everything else: condo, car, sailboat and a fantastic job. Those were all material possessions, just “stuff.” In reality, nice but meaningless. What he needed was to find his other half. The way Devon had.
Luke wanted nothing less. That’s why he tossed himself out there, dating now and then, trying to find his soul mate. As for Cecile, the gods had blessed him when they’d paired her with him tonight. Luke was a believer in fate, but he knew that to get a door to open you at least had to jiggle the handle. That’s what he’d been doing with Cecile. Testing her.
She’d passed.
The bride and groom chose that moment to wander back to the head table and sip champagne from the engraved hand-blown flutes custom-made for the occasion. Strange to think that the neighbor Luke had grown up throwing mud and snowballs at had become Dr. Devon Pinewood, esteemed surgeon and happily married man.
Luke and Devon were about a year apart in age and had been a grade level apart at the private prep school they’d both attended. That hadn’t stopped them from getting into loads of boyhood trouble over the years, even if lately the only trouble had been on the golf course when each tried to finagle his way to the lower score. Elizabeth had been a calming influence on Devon from the moment they’d met at a charity event four years ago. Luke smiled as he watched the couple. They’d had some rough spots but worked through them.
Hopefully Luke could also find that magic. Of course, he and Devon had different ideas of what comprised the perfect woman. Unlike Devon, Luke wanted his woman to be an independent spirit who vocalized her thoughts and stirred him up.
Cecile certainly got him going. Perhaps her assertive nature came with the hair—those strawberry-blond strands just begged a man to touch that human fire. Her hair fit her flamboyant and outgoing nature.
Devon’s mother approached the head table. Mistress of the clock, she pointed to her watch. “It’s time for the wedding party dances,” she said. She scanned the room, mentally locating each member of the wedding party. “Where’s Cecile?” she asked, directing the question at Luke.
“She’s in the ladies’ room,” Luke said as he rose to his feet. “I’ll go get her.”
“Thank you.” An expression of relief crossed Amanda’s face, and Luke understood why Elizabeth’s parents had simply ceded much of the control for the wedding. Luke didn’t know much about the Duletskys, but a glance over at their table showed that they were having a relaxed and fun time.
Wise people, Luke noted.
He kept an eye out for Cecile as he left the ballroom, but he didn’t see her. He exited, strolling toward the restrooms. He caught up with her just as she was leaving. She wasn’t paying much attention and practically bumped into him.
“Steady,” he said as he gripped her arms lightly to stop her from teetering. The dyed-to-match heels she wore weren’t too stable.
Her green eyes widened as she recognized her savior. “What are you doing, following me around?” she demanded.
Yep, she was definitely the type who rallied. No one would ever mistake her for being passive, and Cecile was certainly unlike the women who subtly pointed out their availability as Loretta had done earlier. He and Cecile were turning out to be very compatible, and he was finding her a perfect match for every one of his predetermined criteria. He liked the way she felt pressed against him. He enjoyed her wit and refusal to back away from a challenge. Her green eyes were hypnotic orbs he could drown in. Cecile was the entire package—beauty and brains. And she connected with him on all levels. If tonight went well, he was ready for it to be the first of many.
“Actually, yes, I was following you,” Luke admitted. He slid his hands down her arms and curled her fingers into his palms. “It’s time for me to show you my moves. We’re wanted on the dance floor.”

Chapter Four
She almost tripped again, but his hands continued to steady her. His touch created an odd tingling, something she’d been in the bathroom trying to avoid.
There was definitely a large amount of chemistry zinging between them, and for some reason Cecile was scared. Something about Luke made her feel as if she were in a fun house, on one of those moving floors that tilted you off balance.
“Elizabeth and Devon are sharing the first dance,” Luke said as he led her back into the ballroom, his hand on the small of her back to guide her. “We’re up next.”
The lights had dimmed and a spotlight was trained on the center of the dance floor where Devon and Elizabeth were wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Ready?” Luke asked.
Cecile trembled slightly. His touch had made her edgy, as if she were about to fall down a slippery slope—and yet something told her she’d love every minute of the dangerous experience. “You know, the wedding party having to dance is a silly ritual,” Cecile said.
“You’re such a romantic,” Luke said, chuckling at her cynical attempt to disengage. “And I would normally agree with you, except that this ritual gets you into my arms, and for that I’m grateful. I’m looking forward to holding you.”
That statement simply had Cecile closing her mouth, her glib reply dying on her lips. As much as the prospect of being close to him both appealed and frightened, she found herself wanting him to hold her. She’d had such a bad run with men, but she sensed that Luke was somehow innately different. Yet, was this just here and now? Or maybe something more?
“Let’s go see how I dance,” Luke said, not giving her a chance to contemplate her thoughts further. The confident gleam in his blue eyes spoke volumes.
The spotlight dance concluded, and within seconds she was out on the dance floor and pressed up against him. He slid his arm around her, his right hand splayed against the curve of her lower back. His moves were easy as they stepped in rhythm, a unity to their flow.
Heat began to rise, creating a flush that spread across Cecile’s face and chest. If she wanted, she could easily lean her head forward and rest it on his shoulder, but instead she glanced over that shoulder and tried to stare into the darkness and decipher the mess her feelings had become.
She was older now, and this wedding had proved to her that she did want it all. Luke was the whole package. His fingers pressed against her, drawing her closer, his intentions clear. He was temptation personified, his moves a prelude to the night to come, should she choose to accept. The music ended.
“How’d I do?” he said, his deep voice holding a slightly husky quality.
“Too well,” Cecile admitted and she detached herself and made her way over to the bar. Getting a drink would put some space between them. Never had a dance made her so rattled. She needed something to cool her off, maybe provide her some focus or at least rationale for this insanity. She ordered a glass of wine and a glass of water from the bartender and took both over to the table where her parents sat. An empty seat had opened up now that the dancing had started, and a waiter stopped by with wedding cake. He put several slices down. Seeing the bouquet toss was next, Cecile excused herself to wash her hands, deliberately missing the event. Knowing Elizabeth, she’d probably aim it directly at her, and while Cecile did want to find Mr. Right, she didn’t need Luke getting any wrong ideas for she was sure he’d get the garter. Upon her return, she ignored the garter toss, ate some cake and made small talk with her parents.
About ten minutes later, black fabric entered into view on her left, and Cecile glanced up from finishing the last bite of her second piece. Luke.
“Did you save me any?” he asked, gesturing to the empty plates.
“No,” Cecile said unapologetically. She glanced at her parents, but as if on cue, the music had changed to Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood” and they were rising to their feet and heading hand in hand toward the dance floor.
“You know, you are a surprise,” Luke said as he lowered himself into the chair next to her. “I thought you would have been out there with the bachelorettes.”
“I didn’t want to risk it,” Cecile said. “Knowing my sister, she’d probably run over and hand me her throwaway bouquet.”
Luke reached into his pocket and fished out a blue garter. He twirled it around his finger. “Like Devon did to me?”
“Exactly,” Cecile said. She’d been right, which was why she’d deliberately put her back to the dance floor so she didn’t have to watch the garter toss. She frowned.
As if sensing her question, Luke said, “I got out of having to dance with the girl who caught the bouquet. She was five.”
“Oh,” Cecile said.
Luke leaned over. “Jealous?”
“Ha,” Cecile said, covering her fib with sarcasm.
“Then what would you call it?” Luke asked, not letting her off the hook.
“A simple case of avoidance?” Cecile suggested.
He shook his head, those surfer-blond locks glistening. “Nah, that’s not what it is. You’re not the type who avoids confrontation. If you didn’t want a man’s attention, you’d tell him to take a hike. I think you’ve just discovered that I’m more man than you can handle.”
“In your dreams,” Cecile said. She pushed the empty plate away. “Don’t flatter yourself. I haven’t seen my parents in a while, so I was spending time with them. I’ve been in New York up until this past week.”
Luke simply arched an eyebrow. “So you’ve moved back home?”
“Not exactly. Back to my hometown. I grew up here, but I’ve been away since graduating high school. I just got a new job and so here I am.”
“Here you are,” Luke parroted.
“Right,” Cecile said, at that moment deciding it was time for him to talk about himself. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”
“Pretty much,” Luke said. “I went to Northwestern and have worked in Chicago ever since. So confirm something that’s impressed me so far about you—you aren’t the type of woman who plays typical games, are you?”
She tilted her head and studied him, trying to decide how best to answer. “You seem to think you know a lot about me.”
“I don’t. I’m pretty certain I have you typecast, though, but you do keep surprising me. I definitely would like to get to know you better, maybe take this ‘date’ to another level.”
“Hmm. I’m sure you would,” Cecile said, her fingertips keeping rhythm with the music as she let his words wash over her. She’d already indulged in an extra slice of wedding cake. What would Luke be like if she let herself have even just a taste of what the wedding magic promised? Would she regret saying no until the end of her days if she let this one moment slide by? Answer not forthcoming, she glanced at her empty wrist and exhaled in frustration. Her watch was in her bag under her chair at the head table. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Actually, yes.” Luke stretched out his arm so that the tuxedo sleeve rode up, revealing a toned forearm and a platinum watch. “It’s ten-thirty.”
“Wow. That late already.” The event ended at midnight. She glanced around. Many guests had already left. Others were crowding the dance floor.
“I guess time flies when you’re having fun,” Luke said.
“I suppose so,” Cecile said. She blinked, a bit fuzzy from too much wine and a lack of sleep from the past few weeks. No matter how tempting Luke was, her conscience told her to say no to spending the night with him. She assumed that was what he’d meant when he’d asked to take things to the next level.
Of course, that part of her in overdrive wanted nothing more than to say yes, but what if he was just another Mr. Right Now? As much as they were easier to deal with, she was tired of having flings and was ready for more. If she passed on tonight’s offer, she’d at least prove to herself that she’d changed, grown past indulgences that had no basis in anything but momentary passion. She wanted to wait for Mr. Right. If that was Luke, he’d understand. “I’m not planning on staying too much longer,” she told Luke.
“Then you have to dance with me at least one more time,” Luke insisted. The music changed, this time to a contemporary number. He rose to his feet and pulled Cecile with him. “Come on.”
His fingers on hers incited, and Cecile allowed herself to be swayed. “Okay. Just one song,” she said, especially since the faster numbers didn’t allow for any intimate contact. Touching Luke planted ideas in her head, made her want to pursue him. And admittedly Luke was one of those men who made dancing enjoyable. She’d always loved to dance, and with Luke, one song slipped into two and then three as the band played all her favorite songs in a row.
Despite having a good time, she begged off when a slow number began and made her way to the head table to retrieve her purse. She slid the beaded strap onto her shoulder and turned to him. “This has been great. Thanks. I’ll see you.”
“Sure,” Luke said. The moment was awkward and she knew he was disappointed, but she was exhausted, tired from her relocation and all the wedding events of the past week.
Although it might not be what she wanted, sleep sounded exactly like what she needed, so she left Luke and went to find her sister. Elizabeth was out on the dance floor, leading a version of “The Electric Slide,” a staple at every wedding.
“You aren’t leaving?” Elizabeth asked as she stepped to the side, the line dance continuing without her.
“I’m going to call it a night,” Cecile confirmed with a nod.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “But you can’t! Devon and I are closing the place down, and I’ve barely gotten to talk to you. And what about Luke? Loretta said you’re here with him.”
“He just said that to keep her from hitting on him,” Cecile said. A glance around the ballroom showed that Luke was nowhere in sight.
“He’s a great guy, Cecile,” Elizabeth said. “You should get to know him.”
“Perhaps in the near future,” Cecile said. “Right now I’m just ready to head back out to the suburbs.”
“You should have just stayed here for the night like Mom and Dad,” Elizabeth insisted. “Stop by the front desk and see if there’s a room. I don’t like the idea of you in a cab this late at night.”
“Really, it’s no big deal.” Cecile sighed as she saw her sister’s face. “Okay, fine. I’ll ask. I’ve got a bag checked anyway that I need to pick up.”
She took the elevator to the lobby and, because she’d given her word, approached the front desk. A minute later, the clerk told her the hotel was full. “I can find you something at a nearby hotel,” he offered.
“No, that’s not necessary,” Cecile said. She’d simply take a cab to her parents’ as she’d planned all along.
“Cecile?”
She turned upon hearing the familiar voice. She swallowed. Luke had loosened his bow tie and it hung down, exposing his neck and collarbone. “Hey, Luke,” she said. “I thought you’d gone.”
“No, I’m on my way out now. No sense in staying if you were leaving.” He came closer, and her breath lodged in her throat. Even in the bright lobby lights he looked great.
“I’m waiting for them to retrieve my garment bag,” Cecile said, the moment stretching.
“Ah,” he said, stopping only an arm’s length away.
Cecile’s knees weakened slightly as she realized how powerless she really was to the attraction she felt when around him. She also saw the moment for what it was: fate sending her another chance to say yes. Cecile was a firm believer in fate’s signs. In college, she’d been torn between two sororities, but a last-second experience at one of the parties had been the incentive she’d needed to pick the Roses. From that choice, she’d gained her best friends. And until recently, her job in New York had been perfect, but when she’d been passed over for a promotion, Cecile had taken that as a sign to try for something new. That decision had led her to The Allegra Montana Show.
Now fate was thrusting Luke Shaw in front of her once more, a sign that perhaps turning down his offer had been the wrong decision. Twenty years from now, would she regret passing by this chance? Or should she seize the moment and have a grand passion to remember when the nights grew long and cold and she was alone?
As the bellhop returned with her bag, Luke took the suitcase from her hand. “I’ve got it,” she protested.
“I’ll take it,” he replied, and she decided to let him carry her bag at least to the hotel’s taxi stand. “Do you have your valet ticket?”
“I’m taking a cab out to my parents’,” she said.
He paused and turned. “This late?”
“Yes. My apartment isn’t too far, but it won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon.”
The pupils in Luke’s blue eyes darkened. “So stay with me.”
“You’re joking,” Cecile said, flustered and voicing the first thing that popped into her head. Luke had to be a mind reader. And worse, her libido was now fully wide-awake. And willing. Chemistry and fate made for a deadly, irresistible combination.
“I’m not kidding,” Luke said, his forceful tone sending anticipatory shivers down her spine. He led her to the revolving doors. “I’m just a few blocks away.”
“You’ve been hitting on me all night,” Cecile said, following him out onto the street as if he were the pied piper.
“Yes, I have,” Luke told her. They’d stopped right outside the taxi stand. “I’m not an animal, Cecile. My parents raised a gentleman. I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t want you. I will tell you that I’ll keep my hands off you if that’s what you’d like. You need a place to stay and I have one. So what do you say? I’ll drive you home tomorrow, when both of us are thinking more clearly. If not, I’ll see you to your cab.”
The doorman stood discreetly a few feet away. Luke nodded to him, and the man waded out into the street, blew his whistle and hailed a taxi. Luke handed the man her bag.
The cabbie started loading the suitcase into the trunk, then opened the passenger door and waited for her.
Luke reached out and put his hand on her arm. “It was great meeting you,” he said.
No! Cecile inwardly shouted as her body overrode any misgivings her head might have. Fate had given her another chance, and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.
And her only reason would be that she was trying to be a good girl, holding out for a Mr. Right who might never come.
Scarlett O’Hara had it right. Tomorrow was another day.
“You are getting in with me, aren’t you?” Cecile asked. Luke paused and tilted his head. She had him with her next words. “I don’t think I know what directions to give him to your place.”
It took less than five minutes to reach his high-rise building, less than a minute to take the elevator up sixty-eight floors. Anticipation hummed between them, and Cecile tried to concentrate on her surroundings. While the outside was simply a normal rectangular skyscraper with few architectural details, inside, Luke’s living room soared a dramatic two stories. The space was light, bright and modern. Minimalist pieces and modern art dominated the space. The first floor consisted of the living room, a dining area, a kitchen to make any cook jealous, a full hall bath and the second bedroom. Upstairs contained Luke’s loft office and, beyond that, the master bedroom suite. Her apartment was a shoebox compared to this.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “Wine? Beer? Soda?”
“Water?” Cecile suggested, suddenly extremely nervous and not wanting any more alcohol. Sure, she’d been in this type of situation before, but this time she was with Luke. And that made her nerves feel like eggshells. While she wanted this man, she wanted whatever happened between them to be worth the buildup. She didn’t want crass. Or tawdry. She stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a phenomenal view of Lake Michigan and the well-lit Navy Pier.
“Here you go,” Luke said a few moments later as he returned and handed her a glass of water. “Are you hungry? I can have some food delivered. Or I make a mean omelet.”
“I’m fine,” Cecile said. She noticed he’d stripped out of the tuxedo jacket and removed the bow tie.
She took a long drink, for her throat had gone dry. Luke was sexy. Very sexy. Too sexy for his own good. What was she doing here? He was like chocolate cake. Sinful. Decadent. Worth the guilt. She’d never been one to be able to resist what was forbidden, especially when fate intervened.
“Do you believe in wedding magic?” Cecile asked.
He frowned slightly. “Define what you mean.”
She tapped the glass with her forefinger. “The feeling that there’s something in the air at weddings. Something that makes people do things they shouldn’t.”
“I know what you’re talking about,” Luke said.
“So was that why you were hitting on me?”
Luke had chosen water, as well, and he sputtered slightly as a sip went astray. “No. I hit on you because you’re a very beautiful, desirable woman. Surely you know that.”
“You didn’t just want to pick me up, have some fun, enjoy a quick roll in the hay?” she pressed.
“I’m not afraid of going home alone at the end of the night,” Luke said. “I wasn’t staking out the hotel lobby.”
“No?” Cecile’s body reacted to his honesty. She’d come willingly to his house, but she’d had to question him to be positive she was about to make the right choice. For some reason, it was important she not be a notch on his belt, important that, had she turned him down, he wouldn’t have just turned elsewhere.
“No,” Luke said. “From the first moment I saw you I wasn’t settling for anything less. Why else would I leave after you did?”
“I have to admit, you’ve been tempting me all night,” she heard herself say. If he was turned on, so was she. Life had a way of putting her in situations like this, making her realize that leopards couldn’t change their spots. And with a man like Luke Shaw, who wanted to change in the first place?
“So what are you going to do?” Luke asked, his voice silky and seductive.
“I haven’t decided,” Cecile said, although in reality she had. She needed release and fulfillment. She was a woman with needs, and hers hadn’t been met in a while. She didn’t want Bob. She desired flesh and blood. She wanted to be driven over the edge and into the abyss. She wanted Luke.
And with that, all her resolutions to say no flew out the window. She’d start over tomorrow.
“Is there anything I can do to help you decide?” Luke asked. He’d moved toward her, almost as close as he’d been during that first slow dance.
She’d been seduced before but never like this. Luke was out of her league. Her body already hummed, and she was damp. “You don’t make anything easy, do you?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Never,” Luke said. He reached out and ran a finger down her bare arm. She shivered but not from cold. “I get what I want, Cecile. Always have, always will.”
“And what do you want?” Cecile said, her breath lodging in her throat as she waited for his reply.
“I want you,” Luke said, his tone forceful and determined. A thrill shot though her. “And I definitely want this.”
With that, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.

Chapter Five
The man could kiss. Oh, maybe it was because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, but Cecile didn’t think so. Luke Shaw was simply the master. He pressed her shoulders up against the plate-glass window and plundered her mouth like an experienced sexual pirate.
She heard herself moan as he raked his teeth across her tongue, felt herself shake as his hands gripped her buttocks and drew her lower half forward so that her body molded to his.
He ran his tongue over her lips, teasing and cajoling. His lips lingered, pleasuring her with an endless kiss that robbed her senses. Time stopped as Cecile simply let herself enjoy. Then he slid his lips to the side, over her cheek and over to her right ear. “Follow me,” he said.
At this moment she might let him lead her anywhere, but he led her upstairs into his bedroom. Here again he had floor-to-ceiling windows but this time with a western view. He left the lamps off, undressing her in the muted glow of the city lights coming through the sheers.
He unzipped the purple dress and let the offensive garment pool at her feet. Lowering his lips, he kissed his way over the skin he’d exposed. He suckled her through her bra, and when she cried out with pleasure, he unhooked the purple lace and tossed it away. Then he replaced his mouth and danced his tongue over her sensitive peaks.
“You are so beautiful,” he told her. And unlike other men who’d said that line, with Luke she believed. He raised his hands to remove the pins in her hair and sent the updo tumbling down. The strands cascaded to the tops of her breasts, and he lifted a lock to his lips. “I love this color. So fiery and lovely against your skin.”
And then he kissed her neck before he began to work his way lower. All Cecile could do was let the pleasure wash over her in waves. She reached for him, but Luke brushed her hands away. “Enjoy,” he commanded, and as he stripped away her matching purple underwear and lowered himself to his knees, she simply obeyed his instructions as the bliss began.
She clutched the top of his head for support as pleasure rocked her, and then finally he was standing, kissing her mouth and carrying her to his bed. He threw the coverlet aside and placed her on the soft sheets. His fingers were everywhere, and Cecile groaned as he spread her legs and worked her into frenzy. Then he removed his own clothes, freeing a part of him that strained for attention. He was a big man and perfectly proportionate. He protected himself, leaned over her and slid inside.
“Oh,” Cecile said as her body adjusted to his presence. He fit her well, and she quivered as the first of her releases began. He stroked easily, sending her into multiple valleys and crests, each one exponentially more pleasurable than the rest. He kissed her eyelids, kissed her lips, kissed her breasts. He slid in and out, his body matching her rhythm until he shattered them both in a climax unlike any Cecile had experienced.
She’d never been so satiated. She and Tori had often complained to each other that after lovemaking the woman was often still so wired that she felt like she could go outside and run a marathon. But not this time. Not with Luke.
The man could dance. He could make love. Both superbly. He drew her into his arms, and her body rested, spent and totally fulfilled.
“Good?” he asked.
“Phenomenal,” she told him, and then her eyes began to close.
“I’m glad. I’ll be back in a second. Just rest.”
She heard him enter the bathroom, and within moments he’d returned and curled her to his side as if she had belonged there forever. She decided she liked it and, within moments, drifted away.
ONCE HE WAS SURE she was sleeping, Luke slipped from the bed to retrieve her suitcase. She’d want it in the morning.

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