When she finally did come, Jason was about to complain. He was going to a lot of trouble for this blasted dance; the least she could do was be ready on time.
Whatever he’d intended to say, however, flew out of his mind when he saw Charlotte. For the longest moment of his life, he stood there immobile.
This was Charlotte! She was…stunning.
“I’m…sorry,” she said, sounding flustered. “I didn’t mean to keep you standing out here, but I’m having a problem with this dress.”
She was beautiful.
The word didn’t begin to describe how breathtaking she looked. Her hair was done in a way he’d never seen before, swirled to one side, exposing the smooth skin of her cheek and her long, slender neck. Dangling gold earrings swung from her ears. Her eyes were a brighter blue than ever before, the color of the sky washed clean by a summer squall. Her dress was a paler shade of blue…Her dress…Jason’s gaze slid over the sleeveless dress with its tight bodice and flared skirt, and an invisible hand seemed to appear out of thin air and knock him senseless.
“Jason.” Her eyes implored him as she held one hand behind her back. “Is something wrong? I look terrible, don’t I? Don’t worry about hurting my feelings…This dress is too fancy, isn’t it?”
It was all he could do to close his mouth. “You look…fabulous.” Which was the understatement of the century. Jason felt sorry that he wasn’t more sophisticated and urbane.
If he had been, he might have told her how exquisite she was. He might have found the words to say he’d gladly rework the knot in his tie for another hour if it meant he could spend the evening with her. For the first time since he’d donned the suit jacket, he felt no remorse for volunteering to escort Charlotte to her daughter’s dance.
“I can’t get the zipper all the way up,” Charlotte explained. “I was so busy helping Carrie get ready before Brad and his father arrived that I…I didn’t get dressed myself, and now I can’t reach the zipper. Would you mind?”
She presented him with her back and it was all Jason could do to pull the tab up instead of down. If he went on instinct he’d have had her out of that dress, in his arms and on the way to the bedroom. He couldn’t recall a time he’d wanted a woman more than he did Charlotte Weston right then and there.
“Jason?” She glanced over her shoulder when he delayed.
His hand felt clammy, and at first his fingers refused to cooperate, but with some effort he managed to do as she asked, sliding the zipper up her back.
“Thank you,” she said. “You can’t imagine what a madhouse it’s been around here,” she went on. “Carrie was so nervous. She looked so grown-up. I can’t believe my baby isn’t a baby anymore.”
Jason returned her smile. “My mother felt the same way when Christy—my sister—attended her first big dance.”
Even now, Jason was having trouble forming coherent sentences.
“The dress isn’t mine,” she told him as she searched for her evening bag, wandering from one room to the next until she located it. “I borrowed it from one of my friends at the office…It’s too close to the end of the month to go out and buy one.” She sighed, sounding breathless. “Even if I’d had the extra money, I doubt I would’ve been able to find one at the last minute. I’d feel dreadful if something happened to Cheryl’s dress.”
“I borrowed the suit from my brother.” Maintaining an intelligible conversation, he discovered, wasn’t as much of a problem as keeping his eyes off her.
Charlotte drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I know it’s silly, but I’m as nervous as Carrie.”
He smiled, trying to reassure her.
“The last dance I attended was in college,” she said. “I…I don’t know if I can dance anymore.”
“I’m not exactly light on my feet, Charlotte,” Jason felt obliged to remind her. He’d warned her earlier, but he doubted she’d taken him seriously.
“Do you think we should practice?” she asked.
She was gazing up at him with wide eyes. Jason would’ve given everything he owned to find out if she was feeling anything close to the emotional havoc he was.
“Practice?” he echoed. “That’s an idea.” He swallowed, wondering exactly what he was inviting. Trouble with a capital T, considering the way his body was reacting.
Charlotte set aside her evening bag and walked into his embrace. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good at this,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry. Hey, as far as I’m concerned, those ninth-graders are going to dance circles around us anyway.”
Charlotte’s laugh sounded sweet and soft, and Jason’s heart constricted. Could this be love? This pleasure he felt in doing small things for her—like the dinner and flowers? This need to hold her in his arms? This desire to be with her and her alone?
The feel of Charlotte’s body against his was the purest form of torture he’d ever experienced. She fit in his arms as though she belonged there. Had always belonged there. He tried to ignore how right it felt.
And couldn’t.
He tried to ignore the fragrance of wildflowers that whispered through her hair whenever she moved her head.
And didn’t.
He tried, but failed.
Everything went fairly well for the first few minutes. At least he wasn’t stepping on her feet. Then Jason realized their feet weren’t moving and they were staring at each other more than they were dancing. Gazing at each other with starry-eyed wonder.
He shifted his hand upward, wanting to lessen the feeling of intimacy, but his fingers inadvertently grazed the skin of her upper back.
Either he kissed her now or he’d regret it the rest of the night. Either he continued the pretense or confessed openly to how vulnerable she made him feel.