“Perhaps you’d like to dance with your phone instead?” Marisa observed sweetly.
Black brows twitched and he lifted his gaze from the phone. His eyes were gray. Cool and crystalline. He gave her a glance that took in every inch of her, from the top of her blond head to the green silk high-heeled sandals that matched her bridesmaid’s dress. Normally when men looked at her like that it meant something like “you’re hot.” Or “I want to take you home.” Or “I want to see you naked.”
Luke’s was more like, “What is this…thing?”
It made her feel ten inches tall.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Luke said flatly. “Why would I want to dance with my phone?”
“Sarcasm. I presume you’ve heard of it?”
“Oh, was that what it was?” With a quick movement, he put the phone away in his pocket, then twitched the cuffs of his jacket. “Do you want to dance or not?”
“A please would be nice.”
Irritation crossed his—it had to be said—rather ridiculously handsome face. Marisa tried not to scowl at the awareness that lingered in the back of her mind.
Handsome. Sure. If you liked perfect cheekbones. And straight noses. And beautifully carved mouths. Which she did. Just not on her anally retentive, rule-loving new über-boss.
“Marisa—”
“Way to go. You remembered my name.”
“Of course I remembered your name. I remember everything.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I dunno. To get me into bed?”
He frowned. “I don’t want to sleep with you. You’re with Total Tech. Which makes you an employee of mine. And I don’t sleep with my employees, especially junior ones.”
That he’d somehow remembered just how minor her role was in his organization didn’t make her any more inclined to be nice to him. “Well, that’s good. Because I don’t sleep with people I work with, either.”
His brows descended. “I have to dance with you.”
Marisa folded her arms. “Have to?”
“The groomsmen and the bridesmaids have to dance together at least once.”
Damn. She’d managed to avoid it so far—couldn’t she just keep on doing so?
Christie was getting up from the table, her arm around her new husband. She glanced over at Marisa and gave her a discreet thumbs-up. Marisa could also see Caleb and Judith, Joseph’s sister and Christie’s other “best woman,” already dancing together, too, Judith scowling at Caleb.
Bugger this. Why couldn’t they have swapped partners? Judith probably wouldn’t have minded, and Marisa would have much preferred to dance with Cal. He was fun to be with. Gorgeous, too. But oh no. She had to get stuck with Luke.
Lucky her.
“Come on. The music’s starting.” His fingers wrapped around her wrist. A gentle but irresistible force tugging her toward the ballroom’s dance floor.
“Hey,” she began.
But before she could really protest, she found herself swept in among the dancers, his arm around her waist, his hand at her hip, her fingers laced with his.
It all happened so fast. One minute she was standing there wishing she could dance with just about anyone else. The next she was in his arms.
She glared up at him. “What. The. Hell. McNamara?”
His attention wasn’t on her—as per usual—his gaze fixed on some point over her shoulder. Frowning in fierce concentration.
“Hello?” Marisa persisted. “This is your partner speaking. What the bloody hell are you doing?”
Luke gave his head a minute shake and said nothing. His movements were a touch wooden, the expression on his face becoming fiercer.
Jesus, what was wrong with him? He didn’t seem like the type of guy who danced, anyway. Come to think of it, given the jerky way they were moving, he wasn’t the type of guy who danced at all.
“Hey,” Marisa said. “What are you—ow!” A large foot knocked her ankle and she stumbled.
The arm around her waist tightened to stop her from falling and she was suddenly pressed hard up against six foot three inches of solid male. One of her hands was trapped between them, her palm against his chest.
“Be quiet,” Luke said. “If you talk, I can’t count.”
“You can’t count? What—”
“If I can’t count, I can’t dance. And if I can’t dance, I’ll stand on your foot again. So be quiet and let me count.”
Marisa opened her mouth to argue. Then thought better of it. What was the point? Better just to be quiet and yeah, suck it up. A dance was only a few minutes and then it would be over.