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“I need to check if Darcy needs anything. Bridesmaid’s duty and all.”
Quickly slipping away, Debbie ducked between the guests gathered along the edges of the dance floor, but she didn’t stop to look for the bride amid the crowd. She escaped through the first doorway she found. The sound of music and laughter faded as she stepped out onto a secluded balcony overlooking the historic bed-and-breakfast’s manicured grounds. The cool, ocean-scented night air touched her warm cheeks, and as Debbie gazed up at the night sky, she couldn’t help thinking all the stars she’d wished upon for all those years were laughing down at her now.
As her mother had often warned her... “Be careful what you wish for,” she whispered.
* * *
Drew quickly lost sight of Debbie as she darted out the French doors at the back of the ballroom. Forcing himself to let her go, he headed over to the bar and ordered a beer. He clenched the cold bottle in his hand and took a long swallow of the malty brew. She had every reason to run away from him, and he had no right to go after her until he figured out what the hell was going on.
Was Debbie right? Was he suffering from some kind of wedding fever? The explanation made as much sense as anything he could come up with to justify why he was suddenly tempted to throw caution aside when he was with her. Which was crazy, since reason had always trumped emotion in every hand he’d ever played. His head always ruled his heart. How many times had his last girlfriend, Angie, told him to stop thinking and start feeling whenever the inevitable “where is this relationship going?” talk came up?
He’d tried telling her how he felt—he found her attractive, he enjoyed spending time with her, their common interests made a good foundation for a relationship—but none of those explanations satisfied her. She’d wanted something more...just like Debbie did.
He’d overheard the words from her himself. Debbie wanted adventure, excitement, mystery—not a guy she’d known her whole life.
You’re as grounded as a man can be and still manage to move both feet.
The memory of the accusation she’d made at his sister’s wedding grated on his nerves, and he didn’t even know why. The truth was, he prided himself on making solid decisions, on not rushing into situations without being able to predict the outcome. If he crossed the line from friendship to something more with Debbie, he had no idea where that might lead.
Yet knowing all that hadn’t stopped him from asking her to dance, or from wanting more than a dance....
She was right about one thing. If their names ended up linked by the local grapevine, assumptions would immediately be made.
Drew snorted. With the rate his siblings were getting hitched, his parents would be sending out wedding invitations within a week.
He hadn’t missed the little conversation between his mother and Debbie earlier. He could only hope his mother had been a little more subtle than she’d been after the rehearsal dinner a few nights before. A dinner he’d attended alone. He’d made excuses about work and the custom house he was building keeping him too busy for a relationship, but his mother had quickly called him out on it.
“Do you think I haven’t noticed how many family dinners you’ve missed recently?” she’d demanded. And then softer, she questioned, “And do you think I don’t know the real reason why?”
Okay, so maybe he had been feeling like the odd man out, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his mother. “I’ve been busy. That’s the only reason.”
His mother sighed, giving him the look that could still make him feel like he was six years old. “I have to say, I never thought you would be the child I would have to worry about.”
Drew winced in memory.
His mother would love nothing more than to see him settle down.
All the more reason not to follow Debbie out onto the secluded balcony. He almost had himself convinced when he spotted her shawl draped across the back of the chair she’d abandoned. Leaving the half-finished bottle of beer at the bar, he crossed the room to the table that had been reserved for the wedding party. And just as he’d been unable to stop himself from pulling her onto the dance floor, he reached for the softly woven shawl. The scent of her perfume, a mix of spicy and sweet that perfectly captured Debbie’s personality, drifted over him. Pulling him in when he knew he should be walking away.
As he moved toward the balcony doors, he was stopped several times along the way by friends and neighbors. He took their ribbing about being the only unattached Pirelli with good humor even if the phrase “last man standing” was already getting old. He knew it would get worse after Sam’s wedding. Still, he pushed the thought aside. He was a man on a mission, out to find a certain bridesmaid.
She turned as he opened the door, her arms crossed tightly to ward off the night air. For Drew, the chill was a relief after the ballroom’s crowded interior. But it wasn’t exactly a cold shower, and not nearly cold enough to keep his body from heating when he noticed the swell of flesh above her dress’s neckline.
All brides were supposed to be beautiful, and Darcy was undeniably gorgeous. But it was Debbie who had knocked the breath from Drew’s lungs when he’d caught sight of her walking down the aisle.
He should have been better prepared, seeing her now, but maybe he hadn’t recovered from that first blow. Her blond hair was caught to one side, her golden curls tumbling over her shoulder. The bridesmaids’ gowns reflected Darcy’s taste, and Debbie looked amazing in the halter-style burgundy dress. Tiny beads highlighted the bodice, and the rich fabric fell to the tops of her strappy sandals with a slit in the side guaranteed to blow his mind with revealing flashes of her shapely calf and thigh.
Her blue eyes gazed at him warily. “Drew...”
He heard the protest in her voice and held up the shawl. “I thought you might be cold out here.”
“Oh.”
Was it his imagination or did she sound disappointed that he’d followed her for such an innocent reason? “Well, thank you,” she said as she reached for the pink material, “but I can take care of myself.”
Drew didn’t doubt it. Debbie had been on her own since her mother died. Before that, really, with the care Bonnie Mattson had needed during her illness. He’d long admired Debbie’s independence and the way she’d scoffed at the idea of needing a man. But for the first time, that toughness seemed to soften something inside his chest. He held on to the shawl, keeping their hands tangled together in the wispy fabric. “I know you can. But once in a while, it’s nice to have someone take care of you.”
Sliding the shawl from her hands, he draped the material over her shoulders, keeping hold of both ends. “Maybe,” she conceded, though her slightly stiff posture wasn’t giving an inch. “But I don’t need—”
“This isn’t about need,” he interrupted. “It’s about want.”
Debbie swallowed. “Want?”
“It’s like...dessert. Not something you need, but certainly something you crave.”
“And let me guess. You’re craving something sweet.” The sardonic twist on the word told Drew what Debbie thought of that description—one he’d been guilty of using in the past. She’d nailed it when she complained to Darcy and her fellow bridesmaids about the local guys treating her like a little sister or a platonic buddy.
Standing so close to her now, feeling the heat from her body and breathing in the vanilla-and-spice scent of her skin, he wondered how the male population—himself included—could have been so deaf, blind and stupid. He had no doubt Debbie would taste sweet and yet— Suddenly he thought of the sheer temptation of her chocolate-raspberry cake. “I was thinking more along the lines of something rich, decadent, a little sinful even.”
Debbie’s eyes widened, huge and sparkling in the faint light streaming through the French doors. He’d gone too far, he thought. Pushed too hard for something he shouldn’t even let himself want. The smart thing, the logical thing to do was to walk away now while they still could. “Debbie—”
“Seriously, Drew, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
“Uh—” Before he had a chance to say anything else, she reached up, clasped her hands behind his neck and pulled his head toward hers. At the first touch of her lips, Drew was lost. Walk away? How could he when a single kiss had knocked him off his feet?
He’d been right about the sweetness, but had seriously underestimated just how rich, just how decadent she would taste, with just a hint of champagne and the piña colada wedding cake she’d made flavoring the kiss. The combination was addictive, but it was a taste uniquely her own. His tongue hungrily traced her full upper lip from corner to corner, spending an extra second at the enticing peak in the center. Diving deeper when she made a soft, indistinct sound that still managed to convey the intoxicating blend of demand and desire.
Drew might have smiled at the demand—Debbie had never been shy when it came to speaking her mind—but the desire overrode all else. He pulled her closer, her softness and curves melding against his body in a perfect fit. Blood pounded through his veins, and his hands tightened on her hips. The thin, slippery material of her dress hardly seemed like much of a barrier. With a few deft moves to push it out of the way—
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he froze at the sound of voices drifting over from the parking lot on the other side of the evergreen hedge. The night chill seeped in as Debbie broke the kiss and slipped from his arms.
“You sure about this? Your brother is going to kill you for messing with his ride.”
“I know. Great, isn’t it?”
“You know what they say about payback, and your wedding is less than two months away.”
Drew immediately recognized Sam’s voice along with his friend Billy Cummings’s. The three of them were supposed to decorate Nick’s truck. Even though the newlyweds were spending their first night together at the bed-and-breakfast, their vehicle would proudly announce their just-married status for the trip home. Sam had gathered the appropriate mix of tin cans and shaving cream along with some leashes and dog toys as an homage to Nick’s profession.
It wouldn’t be long before—
“So where is Drew anyway? Are we doing this without him?”
“No way! He has to be part of this so I can tell Nick it was all his idea.” The faint crunch of gravel followed Sam’s words. “You go get the stuff, and I’ll track him down.”
Nick might have been the veterinarian, but Sam could be like a dog with a bone. He wasn’t going to give up until he found Drew.
His looked over at Debbie, who’d already taken a few steps back. Her arms were once again crossed over her chest, but Drew didn’t think this time was because of the cold. “Debbie, I’m sorry. I— That was—”
The awkwardness of the moment grew in rhythm with the silence as he tried to put the kiss and the past few minutes into words. But she clearly had her own ideas about what had taken place. “Wedding fever,” she stated flatly. “But don’t worry. You’ll forget all about it by morning.”
Then she turned and went back into the reception, leaving him alone on the balcony.
Chapter Three
Debbie took one look at the bold black letters on the whiteboard in front of The High Tide restaurant and immediately wanted to turn around and make the forty-minute drive back home from Redfield.
Singles’ Night—Meet and Greet!
Nerves somersaulted through her stomach, whirling fast enough to make her feel sick. This was what she got for opening her big mouth in front of her friends. Ever since making that silly claim about wanting someone to sweep her off her feet, Sophia and Kara had been bombarding her—in person and via phone calls and emails—with ways to meet Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.
She’d escaped a three-way tag team only because Darcy was in Paris on her honeymoon with Nick. Though if her friend did come across any possibilities, Debbie wouldn’t be surprised to receive a message touting Monsieur Tall, Dark and Handsome.
Sophia had been the one to send her the info on the singles’ night. Debbie wondered what her friend would think of the sign—one she was sure normally listed the catch of the day. As if she could just order up the perfect guy to go.
Not that she was looking for the perfect guy. But she’d told Sophia she’d give it a try. She had nothing to lose, right?
Memories of the moonlit balcony swarmed her senses—the brush of Drew’s lips, the subtle hint of champagne, the murmur of her name spoken against her skin. Okay, maybe she’d caught him off guard, kissing him the way she had, but he’d done a heck of a job kissing her back. It had been enough to make Debbie think that maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d always thought. Then he’d deepened the kiss, and she’d stopped thinking at all....
Debbie slammed that mental door shut. As far as she was concerned, those were all reasons to go to the singles’ night. Drew had gotten caught up in the moment only to immediately regret it. She knew it by the what-the-hell-am-I-doing-kissing-her look in his dark gaze and the apology that had followed. And in his total absence over the past week. Not that they normally saw each other every day, but it was a small town. You couldn’t avoid running into someone unless you were avoiding running into someone.
Not that she expected him to seek her out, but that he hadn’t... Well, it only showed that she was right. Temporary insanity brought on by wedding fever and nothing more.
So, fine. She wasn’t interested in Drew anyway. She wanted adventure, excitement. She wanted to meet someone new, and she was going to check out the daily specials on offer tonight at The High Tide.
Breathing in a deep, hopeful breath, Debbie climbed from the car and headed toward the restaurant. Redfield also catered to the tourist crowd, and the restaurant had a quaint bait-and-tackle-shop vibe—weathered wood exterior, netting and fishing rods hanging below the sign.
The scent of fried seafood was enough to make her stomach grumble even as she mentally calculated the number of calories. And while she wasn’t positive her willpower would persevere, it was a sure bet that her fashion sense would win hands down.
The waistband on her floral skirt didn’t have nearly enough give for her to even think about fish and chips. She’d be lucky to squeeze in a salad, but the fitted skirt was the perfect match for her favorite pale pink cashmere sweater. The purchase had been a splurge even on sale, but the savvy saleswoman had told her she looked like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield in the figure-hugging, sinfully soft top, and Debbie had been sold.
You can do this. Sophia’s voice echoed in her mind. Just think, tonight you might meet your own Prince Charming!
Debbie hadn’t tried to explain, again, that she wasn’t interested in some love of a lifetime. A relationship would only be another commitment when most days she already felt stretched too thin. Another responsibility when she already longed for more freedom. Another potential for loss when fate had already stolen so much....
But she couldn’t expect Sophia, still basking in the glow of her own happily ever after, to understand that. So she’d agreed that yes, tonight might be the night.
As she stepped inside the restaurant, Debbie wondered if she hadn’t underestimated the possibilities. She’d feared everyone who would go to such lengths to meet someone—herself included—would reek of desperation. But the good-looking guy standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the reserved section of the bar met her gaze with a friendly and confident smile. He shifted the clipboard he was casually holding and held out his right hand.
“Welcome to The High Tide. Are you here for the meet and greet?” His green eyes sparkled beneath shaggy blond hair, and deep dimples bracketed his smile.
Definitely cute, and while the touch of his hand against hers didn’t set off any fireworks, his grip was strong and warm. Maybe tonight could be the beginning of something after all.
“I am,” she agreed, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
After taking her name and email to keep her up to date with future events, he said, “Here’s a badge. We’d like you to write your name and an interesting or fun fact about yourself on it.”
Debbie reached out but her gaze locked on his hand. His left hand and the shiny gold band on the fourth finger. “You’re married?” she blurted out, the words escaping before she had time to call them back.
He glanced down at his wedding ring and flushed slightly. “Oh, yeah. I’m, um, not part of the singles’ group,” he explained. “I manage the restaurant and like to be here to make sure everything runs smoothly when we have events like this. Sorry if I—”
She waved his words aside. “No need to apologize.” After all, it wasn’t like he’d kissed her or anything. Withholding a sigh, she asked, “I don’t suppose you and your wife met at one of these events, did you?”
His eyes lit in memory. “No, we met while backpacking along the California coastline. We were supposed to travel all the way up to Canada and at the end of the trip go our separate ways. But we realized we’d fallen in love and decided to stay together. Just goes to show that you can find love anywhere along the way. Good luck tonight.”
Backpacking across the country. Now, that was a fun and interesting fact, Debbie thought as she filled out her name badge. She got the first part done okay, but then came to a complete halt. The whole point of going to an event like this was to break out of a rut. She’d lived in the same town, in the same apartment, worked the same job and had known the same people her whole life. If her world was filled with fun and interesting facts, she doubted she’d be at a singles’ event. No, she’d be backpacking along the coast or jetting off to Paris....
Sighing, she glanced over to the other side of the bar. She’d be sitting across the table from a good-looking guy who looked a lot like— Who looked exactly like— Oh, good grief, it was Drew Pirelli!
Sitting in a secluded booth, Drew and a beautiful brunette were engaged in an intense conversation, their heads bent so close together the table between them almost disappeared. As she watched, he reached over and stroked the woman’s arm, and a layer of goose bumps rose along her own skin....
Abruptly turning away, Debbie nearly crumpled the name tag in her hand. She had to leave now before he saw her and— And what exactly? Who cared if he saw her out tonight?
She wasn’t going to sit at home, waiting for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. She was taking charge and going after what she wanted. She wanted to go out, to escape the pressure of duty and responsibility for once in her life. She wanted some fun and interesting facts to write down on her stupid name badge!
Picking up the pen, she printed a few words beneath her name, capping them off with an exclamation point before slapping the sticky tag to the front of her sweater. Now, time to actually meet a single guy at this singles’ event.
Within minutes, she’d done just that. Gary Tronston was in his early thirties by her guess. He had blond hair and wore wire-framed glasses. He was a dentist, and while Debbie wasn’t sure how interesting that fact was, he had added on his name tag that he was a dentist with a sweet tooth, which at least showed an attempt at a sense of humor.
But talking to him, Debbie couldn’t help feeling he’d somehow slipped her a shot of Novocain.
“I like helping people. Seeing them smile,” he added with a smile of his own. “It’s not saving the world, but I like to think I’ve made a difference.”
“That’s great, Gary. Really.”
Debbie might not have always been the best judge of men, but he seemed like a nice guy. If only she felt even the slightest spark...
She didn’t, though, and it was all Drew’s fault. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep from glancing over poor Gary’s shoulder at Drew on the other side of the bar.
His dark hair gleamed even in the bar’s muted lighting, and the red T-shirt he wore, the long sleeves pushed back to reveal his tanned, muscular arms, was the perfect contrast. His eyebrows were pulled together in a frown, and though she was too far away, she knew just how rich and warm his eyes were. After a moment, his features relaxed, the lines around his eyes crinkling slightly as he flashed his perfect white teeth in a smile at his date. Debbie tore her gaze away, but it was too late. He looked so vibrant, so virile, that Gary with his blond hair and somewhat pasty skin seemed ready to simply fade away.
Not that Gary was to blame. When she and Drew had kissed, the whole world had faded away. How was the poor guy supposed to compete with that?
“Would you like a drink?” he asked before waving their waitress over and requesting a wine list as if they were at a five-star establishment instead of a casual, family-friendly restaurant. She tried to ignore that it made him seem more than a little pretentious. But once she spotted that chink in his armor, she couldn’t help noticing a few more less than attractive details. Like when he mentioned for the third time that he drove a Mercedes. And that he’d graduated with honors. And that he was working with a group of investors to build an exclusive resort in the area.
Debbie supposed it would have been hard to fit all that on a name tag.
Suppressing a sigh, she smiled as the waitress returned with their drinks and took a sip of the white wine Gary had ordered for both of them. She fought to keep her attention on the man in front of her instead of on the one across the bar. But that focus only brought more details to light. Like...wasn’t Gary’s blond hair combed a little too neatly? His clothes too perfectly pressed? And she’d bet the bakery that the shine on his nails came from a manicure.
Good hygiene was one thing, but that was just...weird, she decided, reaching for her wineglass again. Drew would never—
Debbie tried to stop the hopeless comparison, but suddenly the floodgates were open. There was nothing overstated about Drew, nothing that said he was trying too hard or that he was too hung up on his own good looks. Just a quiet confidence and yes, he was gorgeous enough for Debbie to be hung up on his looks. Of course, he was more than a pretty face and a drool-worthy bod.
He was...Drew.
The boy who’d stood up for her when some of the other kids in school had teased her about her weight and the outrageous desserts her mother always packed in her lunch. Of course, he’d been thirteen at the time and helped her in typical boy fashion—by stealing huge bites out of her cupcake or éclair or torte when Debbie wasn’t watching and then flashing her a cocky grin. In typical girl fashion, Debbie had protested, calling him names and probably sticking her tongue out a time or two, even as warmth bloomed inside her.
At nine years old, she’d known he was saving her from pigging out in front of the rest of the class or from hurting Bonnie’s feelings by refusing to take those desserts to school or, heaven forbid, throwing out the food her talented mother made with such love.
And then there was the day of her mother’s funeral. Just about everyone in town had stopped by to tell her how much her mother would be missed and how they would be there for Debbie if she needed anything.
She’d smiled through it all, reminiscing about her mother, talking about how much she loved to bake and to share her gift of sweets with the town. Only later did Debbie break down in the back of the bakery, crying over a batch of éclairs that she had never, ever been able to make as well as Bonnie, as it hit her that she would never taste her mother’s baking again. It was then, after everyone else was gone and she was alone, that Drew knocked on the bakery’s back door. He hadn’t said much, simply holding her as she cried and then helped her to clean up the mess she’d made of the kitchen.