Since he’d shown up at my door on Saturday, I had lost count of the number of “dates” we had actually had. Aside from the office, and our nights, we were together. Lunches were shared in the park daily. Stolen kisses in the kitchen at the office. Flowers, chocolates, and my favorite pastries appeared by my keyboard. Sweet texts arrived at different moments of the day, always making me smile. Every evening, he appeared at my desk.
“Ready to go, my darling?” he would murmur. I would take his hand, and our evening would begin.
A couple of nights, I went to his house, helping him pack and sort. Anna obviously had exquisite taste, and I helped Jordan pick some pieces to go to his new place. A few nights, he came to my place and we cooked dinner, working well together in the kitchen. He was a great cook, especially his seafood pasta—which I loved so much, I made him promise to make me every week.
But when the evening was over, we separated. I knew Jordan wasn’t comfortable in Max’s house, and I didn’t want to share a bed in the same room he’d shared with Anna. I had no problem cuddling on the sofa, sharing long, passionate kisses in my kitchen, but there was a line there neither of us wanted to cross.
Which was why, Jordan informed me yesterday, he had booked us a hotel room for the night.
“There is no way I can hold you close, dance with you, then drop you off at home,” he informed me when I asked why. “I’ve been patient, my darling. You can only ask a man to take so much.”
I had held in my amusement, because frankly, I was feeling the same way.
This afternoon when he picked me up, he had stood back, sweeping his gaze over me head to toe in a long, lazy glance. Then he shook his head.
“Thank god.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Thank god I booked that hotel room. You look like a million bucks.” He ran a hand over his face. “I hope there is dancing. I want to see you move in that sexy number.”
I tried not to blush but failed. Jordan had that effect on me. I had bought another new dress—this one in a deep emerald-green color, with layers of beads that reminded me of a flapper dress from the twenties. It was held up with slender straps on my shoulders and barely skimmed my knees. It shimmered and danced when I moved, the beads almost musical as they bounced and swayed. I had my hair up, showing off my neck and shoulders, which, thank god, were still firm, the skin taut. I carried the lovely shawl Jordan had bought me in Boston.
From the look on Jordan’s face and the force of his kiss, I had a feeling he was looking forward to seeing the dress on the floor of the hotel room.
After the dancing.
He’d been close all afternoon, tucking me to his side, running his fingers over my bare shoulder, dropping a kiss to my skin on occasion. We laughed and enjoyed the outpouring of love that surrounded the event.
I danced with all my boys, each of them trying to outdo the other. Maddox was his usual suave, graceful self on the dance floor. Aiden spun me around to a fast number, gyrating his hips and making me laugh as Cami shook her head at his antics. Van and Halton were both solicitous partners. Reid made my heart ache with his awkward, sweet, fumbling attempt at a waltz. He kept apologizing, and he seemed grateful when Bentley stepped in, tapping him on the shoulder firmly.
“My turn—before you injure her.”
I smiled as we moved, Bentley’s footwork perfect, his leading confident. He was an excellent dancer. He peered down at me. “You’re happy.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“Very.”
“Jordan can’t keep his eyes off of you.”
I glanced over his shoulder, looking at Jordan. He sat with the family I had created, at ease and smiling. He was talking to Reid, leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs. He was nodding and listening to whatever Reid was saying, but his gaze was focused on me. Intent and dark with longing. His lips curled into a smile when he saw me watching him, and he threw me a subtle wink.
I felt my blush creep up my neck, and I cursed under my breath. “Damn that man, he does this to me all the time.”
Bentley grinned, swinging me around. “It’s good to see.”
I met his blue gaze. He was relaxed and happy—a changed man from the one I had worried would never allow himself to feel for another person.
“I’ve fallen in love with him, Bentley,” I confessed.
He cocked his head. “I can see that.”
“How do you feel about that?” I asked.