She smiled, clapped, laughed in all the right places, though no matter how hard she tried to enjoy herself, there was this weird leaden weight on her heart—something she’d never felt before, not over a man. Fletcher had stirred a lot of new feelings in her today. Had she been too hasty in taking such decisive umbrage against him? Was this the weight of disappointment because he wasn’t how she’d wanted him to be, or of regret for cutting herself off before exploring the experience further?
Fortunately, when the bridal party all trooped off to the powder room before the cutting of the cake, Celine cleared up some of the turmoil in Tammy’s mind.
‘Did I detect something going on between you and my brother, Tammy?’ she asked with a little frown of concern.
‘Just a bit of flirtation. You didn’t tell me he was so handsome.’
Celine grimaced. ‘Alpha male at its best and worst—that’s Fletcher. Didn’t he put you off with his supposedly superior intellect?’
Tammy shrugged. ‘I had to cut him down a few times.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not completely bowled over by him. Fletcher is only into very casual relationships, and I mean casual. No woman is good enough to keep his interest. Besides which he flies back to London on Monday. He’ll be out of your life before you even begin to know him properly.’
‘No problem,’ Tammy answered airily and concentrated on renewing her lipstick, telling herself to stop maundering over what might have been with Fletcher Stanton. He was definitely not the right man for her.
Her body, however, staged a highly unsettling rebellion against that edict when she had to dance with him.
The bridal waltz followed the cutting of the cake. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were scheduled to join in after Celine’s and Andrew’s showpiece solo performance. There was no avoiding it. As the fifth bridesmaid, Tammy had to line up with the fifth groomsman. They stood together, waiting for their turn to step onto the floor, Tammy looking studiously ahead, acutely aware that her pulse was racing and her female hormones were zinging into a merry dance of their own at the prospect of physical connection with the man beside her.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She glanced up and caught a devilish twinkle in his dark eyes. ‘I hope you can waltz,’ she answered, trying to dampen the rush of heat through her bloodstream.
‘Counting one, two, three, is not beyond me’ was his sardonic reply.
‘Mathematical skill does not guarantee a natural rhythm,’ she instantly countered, bristling at his arrogance again. ‘Some people have it. Some don’t.’
‘Do you have it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we should move well together,’ he said with such sexy satisfaction, Tammy told herself to keep her smart mouth shut because it was only giving him ammunition to light a fire she had to put out.
This attraction was going nowhere.
She was not going to be a casual, meaningless one-night stand for Fletcher Stanton. Pride forbade it. She deserved more from a man than to be left to herself after an intimate connection.
‘Our turn now,’ he said, and swept her onto the dance floor, one arm clamping her lower body to his, his powerful thighs pushing hers into the slow sensual rhythm of ‘Moon River,’ the jazz waltz Celine had chosen.
He held her so closely, her breasts pressed to his chest, she had to put her arm up around his neck, and he didn’t just hold her other hand. He intertwined their fingers, fueling the hot sense he was claiming possession of her and had no intention of letting go. Tammy couldn’t stop herself from virtually melting into him. He danced divinely. Never had she had such a masterful partner. The question started raging through her mind—what would he be like in bed?
Mercifully the music stopped and she pulled herself back from the brink of floating into dangerous places with Fletcher Stanton. ‘I have to go and serve cake now,’ she said, demanding release.
‘It can wait. The other guests have just been invited to join us on the dance floor,’ he argued, his eyes simmering with temptations that had to be denied or she might end up where she was determined not to be.
‘Many of them won’t. It’s the bridesmaids’ duty to take around trays of cake,’ she stated categorically.
‘How many more duties do you have to perform tonight?’
‘This is the last one,’ she had to admit.
‘Good! Then I’ll catch up with you after it’s done.’
He slowly untwined his hand from hers and removed his arm from around her waist, his dark gaze holding hers with an intensity of purpose that sent little shivers down her spine. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to make a fighting stand.
‘This was a duty dance, you know. I don’t have to do anything more with you.’
‘But we have such perfect rhythm together. Why deny the pleasure of pursuing it further?’
Because it was a straight-out case of dancing with the devil. But Tammy couldn’t say that since it would reveal how tempted she was.
‘What’s your favourite dance?’ he pressed.
‘The salsa,’ she answered, half hoping he couldn’t do it, half wanting him to be brilliant at it because she loved it so much.
He grinned with wicked confidence. ‘I’ll salsa you off your feet.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ she said archly, trying her utmost to stay cool. ‘Please excuse me. Duty calls.’
She could feel his eyes burning into her back as she walked away. He was a terribly sexy beast. Could she risk the excitement of doing the salsa with him? Better not. No doubt it would tease more lustful desires, and she might not feel strong enough to resist them.
As it turned out she found the best possible excuse to escape any pursuit from Fletcher for the rest of the evening. Celine’s ten-year-old cousin, Ryan, had disgraced himself, surreptitiously drinking alcohol, throwing up and feeling wretched. Tammy offered to sit with him on the downstairs verandah so his parents could continue enjoying their niece’s wedding reception. Knowing she was a qualified nurse, they were happily relieved to let her take care of him.
Ryan curled up on her lap and dropped off to sleep. Tammy was grateful for the cool night air. It helped dispel the feverish physical yearning that had almost pulled her down a very stupid course. Hadn’t she learnt from her mother’s life that rich arrogant men didn’t stick around after they’d got what they wanted? Fletcher Stanton wouldn’t be any different. His own sister had spelled that out. If she let her deeply set principles be swept aside by his powerful attraction, she’d be disgusted with herself when he flew away on Monday.