One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

When the houselights came down at a signal from Rick and the dance floor and stage lit up, Haydn held his hand out to her. “Dance with me?”

“If you can handle my two left feet.” My erratic heartbeat. “I’d love to.”

The band played the opening bars to Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight,” and Haydn took her in his arms. “For the record, your worth can’t be calculated in cold cash.”

She winced. Of course, he’d taken note. Stealth-level listener. “I’m sorry I said that.” Her heart squeezed painfully at the admission. “Nothing you’ve done has made me feel cheap.” It was the extreme opposite.

He pulled her a little closer. “I had some ground to make up, if you remember.”

Why ever had she been upset about his card? She shook her head, looking down at the gloss of his satin lapel, so shiny it was a wonder she couldn’t see her own embarrassed expression in it.

He nudged her chin gently and she raised her eyes. In a month, would she remember how it was to be in his arms, to have his full attention, consideration and charisma all narrowcast in her direction. It was like standing in the path of natural disaster and knowing it would crash past, inexplicably sparing you but making you feel guilt about surviving.

“I thought you might think this was over the top,” he said.

“It is way over the top. But it’s also incredibly special. You did this for me and I’m overwhelmed.”

“I wanted you to have a great weekend. To make it worth your while to hang out with me a few more days.”

“We could’ve watched terrible movies you’re in and messed around in bed and eaten nothing but fast food and I’d have had a great time.”

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Now she tells me.”

One more day with this extraordinary man.

It would have to be enough.

“I like doing those things too, but—” He dipped her and she gasped, almost losing her footing, and feeling his arm tighten around her as her feet slid. “Not on a first date.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not second-date material,” she quipped, as he righted her and for a second, she was pleased with how casual that sounded until he slammed her in c

lose, no daylight between their bodies.

“You are cut from the very best material, Teela.” The jokey tone in his voice was gone, replaced by something sharp. “Don’t settle for a man who doesn’t know and appreciate that.”

Seemed she had one right in front of her, his breath stirring her hair, one hand spread across the small of her back, the other gripping the back of her neck, the look on his face, fierce, uncompromising.

“If things were different I’d be tempted to try to be that man.” He released her, slowly disengaging, and cleared his throat, giving his bowtie a tug to untie it, loosening his collar and flashing a rakish smile. “Good thing I don’t have any illusions about where my talent lies.”

The song changed, John Legend’s “All of Me.” Haydn took her hand again and crooned the opening line. All of him was more than Teela ever imagined an extended one-night stand could be. It didn’t need to be said that she’d never have more of him.

She placed her hand back on his shoulder. “Your talent doesn’t extend to holding a tune.” It did. But she loved the way insulting him made him react. Like she’d stung him with a tiny dart and he experienced a confused moment where he wasn’t sure exactly where he was hit or how badly it should hurt. There was a second of disbelief in his expression before he smiled. A smile that started at the corner of his eyes and invaded his whole face, making his single dimple wink on.

“I’m guessing not overwhelming anymore,” he said, with an eye-roll.

She gave a little shimmy. “My whelm does appear to be back.”

He twirled her under his arm. “Good to hear.”

It was a lie though. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, listened to him humming along and let him move her around the floor, trusting to the magic of the occasion that she wouldn’t trip on her dress or step on him more often than necessary to stay upright.

He made it easy. His attentiveness, his consideration, had gotten under her skin and affected her at a neurological level. Knowing Haydn like this would change her.

All of her ungainly tripping would be done after he was gone as she rushed back to earth.

Song blended into song, each one almost unbearably romantic. Absolutely the right set for a wedding, making her eyes mist over and her throat get tight. Haydn sailed through it as if an occasion like this was normal.

When he drew them to a stop, she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but honest affection. “Can I kiss you in front of the band?” he asked.