A Wedding in December

“No. I don’t believe you. No way are you a Karen.”

“Karen. Is there any more wine? If this is confession time, I’m going to need it.”

“Yes, Karen.” He topped up their glasses. “Sorry, but you are not a Karen. Guys in London must be stupid.”

“How about you?”

“I don’t have a fake name. Never seen the need.”

“I mean, do you date? You must have been involved since your wife.”

“I guess I’m pretty wary, too.”

They were side by side on the sofa, elbows touching, thighs touching. She was acutely conscious of him.

“Jordan?”

“What?”

“The other day, I lied.”

“About what?”

“When I told you the earth didn’t move.” She turned her head and found he was already looking at her. Her stomach curled.

“It moved?”

“It might have moved. A little.”

His gaze slid to her mouth. “You’re not sure?”

“The wine has made things a little hazy.” She inched a little closer. “If I kissed you now, would you be shocked?”

“Try it and I’ll let you know.”

The last of the daylight was fading and the only light came from the flickering fire. It was as if nothing existed beyond the wooden walls. The cabin had become a cocoon.

She sat up and put her glass down on the table. Then she did the same with his.

“I can see you’re focused,” he murmured. “A woman on a mission, seeking an answer to the question of whether the earth is going to move.”

“This is a controlled, clinical trial. Nothing more.” She lowered her mouth toward his and then stopped, her breath mingling with his. “To clarify, if the earth should happen to move, you’re not going to ask for my number, are you?”

He slid his hands into her hair, holding her head close to his. “Not much point, since I already know it will be fake. Karen.”

Their mouths hadn’t touched, but she was excruciatingly aware of him. Those blue eyes, veiled, watching her. His fingers, strong as steel, gently cupping her face.

The teasing atmosphere had vanished, leaving only delicious tension.

Was this a mistake? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was sick and tired of feeling bad and being with Jordan felt good. Rosie said she’d forgotten how to have fun. She needed to know that part of her was still alive and well.

She moved her mouth even closer to his. “You can still stop me.”

“Why would I stop you?”

They moved at the same time, mouths colliding, hands seeking. She’d intended it to be a kiss, that was all. One kiss. But the moment his hand stroked down her back she knew one kiss was never going to be enough.