‘Excuse me.’ A deep voice dragged her back to the proceedings. ‘I need to get past.’
The voice was deep and sensual, and as she turned her head Tabitha almost braced herself for disappointment. It probably belonged to some portly fifty-year-old who did voice-over commercials part-time. But there was nothing disappointing about the face that met hers. If Amy Dellier was the epitome of feminine perfection, then standing before Tabitha was the male version. Jet hair was brushed back from a strong haughty face, and high cheekbones forced her attention to the darkest eyes she had ever seen. At first glance they seemed black, but closer inspection revealed a deep indigo, framed with thick black spiky eyelashes. The heady scent of his cologne and his immaculate grooming indicated he was freshly shaven, but the dusky shadow on his strong jaw conjured images of bandanas and tequila, a world away from the sharp expensive suit he was wearing. He looked sultry and masculine—animal, in fact. As if no amount of grooming, money or trappings could ever take away the earthy, primal essence of man.
‘Of course.’ Swallowing nervously, she pushed her legs back against the pew in an attempt to let him past—but her bag was blocking the way, with Aiden’s foot on the strap. Aiden, totally mesmerised by the wedding, was happily oblivious to the obstruction he was causing.
‘Sorry.’ His apology was mere politeness, exactly as one would expect when a stranger had to push past—the same as at the movies, when the inevitable hordes returned with their dripping ice-creams and you had to lift your legs up and squash back into the seat to let them past. Except demi-gods like this never appeared at the movies Tabitha attended—at least not off screen—and this moment seemed to be going on for ever.
If he didn’t want to fall, he had no choice but to steady himself briefly on Tabitha’s bare arm as he stepped over the small bag. The pews were impossibly close, each jammed to capacity with guests. As his hand touched the flesh of her arm Tabitha found she was holding her breath; two spots of colour flamed on her carefully rouged cheeks as he brushed past her, the scent of him filling her nostrils.
Aiden turned then, a smile of recognition on his face as he mouthed hello to this delicious stranger. The bride was passing, and he had no choice but to stand between Tabitha and Aiden as the procession slowly passed.
So slowly.
It was probably only a matter of seconds.
It seemed to last for ever.
Never had she felt such awareness—the whole focus of her attention honing in on this everyday occurrence. Her skin was stinging as she stood next to him, every nerve in her being standing rigid to attention, so painfully aware of his close proximity. But all too soon it was over; the procession had dutifully passed, allowing him to slip into the pew in front and Tabitha to finally breathe again.#p#分页标题#e#
He moved directly into the seat reserved next to Amy, and by the way her hand coiled possessively around his she was only too pleased to see him.
Tabitha found herself letting out a disappointed sigh while simultaneously admonishing herself for overreacting. Well, what did you expect? she reasoned. That someone as utterly gorgeous as that would be here alone?
Only she wasn’t talking about Amy Dellier.
‘Dearly beloved…’
The congregation hushed as the service started, but it held no interest for Tabitha. Instead her attention was entirely focused on the delicious sight of the man who had sat himself in front of her. His thick hair was beautifully cut and absolutely black, without even a single grey hair. It sharply tapered into a thick, strong and tanned neck, and his suit was superbly cut over his wide shoulders. As they stood to sing the first hymn Tabitha stared, mesmerised, her eyes unashamedly flicking downward. Despite her height, Amy Dellier seemed almost petite beside her partner; he was incredibly tall. It was no wonder she could get away wearing heels with him around.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Aiden whispered into her ear as the congregation sang heartily.
‘What are you talking about?’ Tabitha flushed, snapping her attention to the hymn book she was holding in front of her.
It didn’t work. ‘You’re supposed to be on page forty-five, Tab.’ Aiden grinned. ‘That, my dear, is my brother Zavier.’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
But Aiden had known her far too long to be fobbed off. ‘You know exactly who I’m talking about, Tabitha, and take it from me—he’d crush you in the palm of his hand.’
Tabitha winced at the expression. ‘Meaning?’
‘Just that. Zavier might be a dream to look at, but he’s bad news.’