“It’s good to see you, too.”
And it was true. He’d run into plenty of old friends and acquaintances since coming back to Iowa, but this was one of the few times he’d felt honestly happy to see someone again.
“How have you been?” he asked after a moment.
“Fine,” she answered. “And you?”
“Fine.”
The band had started up again, this time playing an R&B song. It was something slow and sexy, the kind of music it was hard to dance to unless you were with someone you wanted to hold close.
Erin looked uncomfortable. She glanced at the couples near them and then back at him. “We don’t have to dance,” she said. She tucked a loose curl of golden hair behind her ear, and he followed the movement of her fingers.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “No, it’s okay.”
It occurred to him that I don’t mind probably wasn’t on the list of things women dreamed of hearing on the dance floor.
“It really was nice to see you,” she said, taking a step back.
He knew an exit line when he heard one. In another moment she’d be gone.
Once again he acted without thinking, reaching for her hand.
“One dance,” he said, even as he wondered what the hell he was doing. He didn’t like to dance, he wasn’t interested in starting something with a woman, and he’d been avoiding social interactions for the last four months.
But as his hand closed over Erin’s, he realized that the numbness that had become a part of him had given way, just for a moment, to something else.
A spark of curiosity. Erin Shaw had been an unusual teenager, and he wondered what kind of woman she’d become.
And he wondered what it would feel like to hold her in his arms.
Chapter Two
Her heart thumped against her ribs. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, making her feel warm all over.
“Okay.” When her voice squeaked a little she cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said again.
Standing this close to him, she could see details she’d missed from across the room. The beginning of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. A faint scar that ran from his right temple to his jaw.
And his eyes…his eyes were so different. They used to show what he was thinking and feeling, but now they showed nothing at all.
That was why she’d started to leave the dance floor. Jake’s expression was so remote it was hard to believe he really wanted to be here. She assumed he’d only said hello to be polite, and that with his obligation to a family friend out of the way he’d want to get back to his table, his drink, and his solitude.
Now she was acutely conscious of Jake’s strong, callused hand as he pulled her towards him. He slid his free arm around her waist, and goose bumps prickled her skin.
She couldn’t believe this was really happening. It was so completely unexpected—one minute she was talking with an old high school classmate, and the next she was dancing with her old high school crush.
She felt lightheaded, and she wasn’t sure if it was Jake or the three glasses of champagne she’d drunk—or both. The music was slow and sultry, the kind that lured you into a fog of sensuality with every beat.
Jake was so much taller than she was. Her eyes were level with the middle of his sternum, which meant she was staring at his chest. Specifically, she was staring at the third button down on his crisp white dress shirt.
A minute went by. Stop looking at the button. She needed to look up at Jake and say something casual, to show him how comfortable and relaxed she felt right now. But the longer she stared at the damn button the more self-conscious she felt, and the less she could imagine meeting Jake’s eyes. Ever again.
She took a slow, shaky breath. What was wrong with her? She was dancing with Jake Landry, something she’d never done before and would probably never do again, and it was time to stop worrying and enjoy the moment.
She didn’t look up. Instead, she turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest, smiling a little when she felt the button press into her skin.
His arm tightened around her.
His body was so warm, so solid, so strong. She breathed in his scent, clean and masculine, and let her eyes drift closed as memories surfaced.
She’d met Allison’s family when she was thirteen, and they welcomed her the way they welcomed everyone: with open arms. She loved their farm from the first moment she saw it and helped out with the chores as often as they’d let her.
Allison’s brother Jake was three years older, and the cutest boy she’d ever seen in her life. She was too shy to talk to him at first, even when he talked to her. But he was always relaxed and easy-going, teasing her like he did his sisters, and before long she could carry on a conversation with him without turning bright red and stumbling over her words.