Читать книгу The Groom Said Maybe! - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

STEPHANIE sat down.

What else could she do? Everyone at the table was watching them, eyes bright with curiosity.

David Chambers sat down beside her. His leg brushed hers as he tucked his feet under the table. Surreptitiously, she moved her chair as far from his as she could.

He leaned toward her. “I carry no communicable diseases, Mrs. Willingham,” he said dryly. “And I don’t bite unless provoked.”

She felt her face turn hot. His voice had been lowpitched; no one else could have heard what he’d said, but they’d wanted to—she could see it in the way they leaned forward over the table.

Say something, Stephanie told herself. Anything.

She couldn’t. Her tongue felt as if it were stuck to the roof of her mouth. She cleared her throat, moistened her lips...and, mercifully, an electronic squeal from the bandstand microphone overrode all conversation in the ballroom.

The guests at table seven laughed a bit nervously.

“Those guys could use a good sound engineer,” the man with the glasses said. He grinned, rose and extended his hand toward David. “Too bad that’s not my speciality. Hi, nice to meet you guys. I’m Jeff Blum. And this is my wife, Roberta.”

“Call me Bobbi,” the plump brunette chirped, batting her lashes at David.

The other couple introduced themselves next. They looked as if they’d both been hewn out of New England granite, and had the sort of names David always irreverently thought of as Puritan holdovers.

“Hayden Crowder,” the man said, extending a dry, cool hand.

“And I’m Honoria,” his wife said, smiling. “And you folks are?”

“David Chambers,” David said when Stephanie remained silent. He looked at her, and the grim set of his mouth softened. Okay. Maybe he was overreacting to what had happened when he’d first seen her, and to her reaction to it.

Actually, when you came down to it, nothing had happened—nothing that was her fault, or his. A man looked at a woman, sometimes the moment or the chemistry was just right, and that was that—although now that he was seated next to the widow Willingham, he thought wryly, he couldn’t for the life of him imagine why his hormones had gone crazy back in that church. She was a looker, but so were half a dozen other women in the room. It was time to stop being an ass, remember his manners and get through the next few hours with something approaching civility.

“And the lady with me,” he said pleasantly, “is—”

“Stephanie Willingham. Mrs. Avery Willingham,” Stephanie blurted. “And I can assure all of you that I am not here with Mr. Chambers, nor would I ever choose to be.”

Bobbi Blum looked at her husband. Hayden Crowder looked at his wife. All four of them looked at Stephanie, who was trying not to look at any of them.

Ohmygod!

What on earth had possessed her? It was such an incredibly stupid thing to have said, especially after the man seated beside her had made an attempt, however late and unwanted, at showing he had, at least, some semblance of good manners.

“Do tell,” Bobbi Blum said with a bright smile. She sat back as the waiter set glasses of champagne before them. “Well, that’s certainly very, ah, interesting.”

Honoria Crowder shot a brilliant smile across the table. “Champagne,” she said briskly. “Isn’t that nice? I always say champagne’s the only thing to serve at weddings, isn’t that right, Hayden?”

Hayden Crowder swallowed hard. Stephanie could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his long, skinny neck.

“Indeed you do, my dear.”

“Oh, I agree.” Jeff Blum, eager to do his part, nodded vigorously. “Don’t I always say that, too, Bobbi?”

Bobbi Blum turned a perplexed smile on her husband. “Don’t you always say what, dear?”

“That champagne is—that it’s whatever Mrs. Crowder just said it was.”

“Do call me Honoria,” Honoria said.

Silence settled over the table again.

Stephanie’s hands were knotted together in her lap. Everyone had said something in an attempt to ease the tension—everyone but David Chambers.

He was looking at her. She could feel the weight of his gaze. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t she say something? A witty remark, to take the edge off. A clever one, to turn her awful words into a joke.

When was the band going to start playing?

As if on cue, the trumpet player rose to his feet and sent a shattering tattoo of sound out into the room.

“And now,” the bandleader said, “let’s give a warm welcome to Dawn and Nicholas!”

The Crowders, then the Blums, looked toward the dance floor as the introductions rolled on. Stephanie breathed a small sigh of relief. Perhaps David Chambers’s attention was on the newlyweds, too. Her hand closed around her small, apricot-silk purse. Carefully, she moved back her chair. Now might be the perfect time to make another strategic retreat to the ladies’ room...

“Leaving so soon, Mrs. Willingham?”

Stephanie froze. Then, with as much hauteur as she could manage, she turned her head toward David Chambers. His expression was polite and courteous; she was sure he looked the picture of civility—unless you were sitting as close to him as she was, and you could see the ridicule in his eyes.

Okay. It was time to take a bite, however small, of humble pie.

“Mr. Chambers.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Chambers, I suppose—what I said before—I didn’t mean...”

He smiled coolly and bent toward her, his eyes on hers.

“An apology?”

“An explanation.” Stephanie sat up straight. “I was rude, and I didn’t intend to be.”

“Ah. What did you intend to be, then?” His smile tilted and he moved closer, near enough to make her heartbeat quicken. For one foolish instant, she’d thought he was going to kiss her.

“I simply meant to make it clear that you and I were not together.”

“You certainly did that.”

“I’m sure Annie meant well, when she seated us this way, but—”

“Annie?”

“Annie Cooper. Surely, you know—”

“You were seated on the groom’s side.”

“I know both the bride and the groom, Mr. Chambers.”

“But you’re Annie’s guest.”

“I can’t see of what possible interest it could be to you, sir.”

Neither could David—except that it had occurred to him. as he’d gone down the receiving line, that word had it that the groom’s uncle, Damian Skouras, had a mistress in attendance at the wedding. Perhaps Stephanie Willingham was she. Or perhaps she was a former mistress. Or a future one. It was a crazy world out there; there was no telling what complications you got into when you drew up guest lists. He’d avoided the problem, his one time in the matrimonial sweepstakes. You didn’t draw up a guest list when you said “I do” at city hall.

“Humor me, Mrs. Willingham,” David said with a chilly smile. “Why did you choose to sit on the groom’s side?”

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Chambers?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with my question.”

“Suppose you humor me, and answer it.”

David’s frown deepened. “I’m an attorney.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose that explains it.”

“Explains what?” David said, his eyes narrowing.

“Your tendency to interrogate.”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Willingham. I did not—”

“I must admit, I find it preferable to your tendency to strip a woman naked with your eyes.”

The band segued from a bouncy rendition of “My Girl” to a soft, sighing “Stardust.” Stephanie’s words rose clearly over the plaintive opening notes.

A strangled gasp burst from Honoria Crowder’s lips. Her champagne glass tipped over and a puddle of pale golden wine spread across the white tablecloth.

“Oh, my,” Honoria twittered, “how clumsy of me!”

Bobbi Blum snatched at a napkin. “Here,” she said, “let me get that.”

Saved by the spill, Stephanie thought hysterically. She smiled blindly at the waiter as he served their first course. The Crowders and the Blums grabbed their oyster forks and attacked their shrimp cocktails with a fervor she suspected was born of the desire to leap to their feet and run from what was turning into the kind of encounter that ends with one of the parties bleeding.

If you had any brains, Stephanie told herself, you’d do the same...

Instead, she picked up her fork and began to stuff food into her mouth because if she was chewing and swallowing, maybe—just maybe—she’d stop saying things that only made this impossible mess messier.

“I don’t.”

Stephanie’s head snapped up. She looked at David, and the smug little smile on his face sent a chill straight into the marrow of her bones.

“Don’t what?” Bobbi Blum said, and everyone leaned forward in eager anticipation.

“Don’t have a tendency to strip women naked with my eyes.” His smile tilted, and his gaze swept over Stephanie again, sending a flood of color to her cheeks. “Not indiscriminately, that is. I only focus that sort of attention on beautiful women who look to be in desperate need of—”

Music blared from the bandstand.

Forks clattered to the table.

The Crowders and the Blums pushed back their chairs and rushed to the dance floor.

Stephanie sat very still, though she could damn near feel the blood churning in her veins. She thought about slugging the man beside her, but that wouldn’t be fair to Annie, or Dawn, or Nicholas. Besides, ladies didn’t do such things. The woman—the girl—she’d once been might have. Would have. Steffie Horton would have balled up her fist and shot a right cross straight to David Chambers’s square jaw.

A tremor went through her. Steffie Horton would have done exactly what Stephanie Willingham had been doing all afternoon. She’d have been rude, and impolite; she’d have spoken her mind without thinking. She might even have reacted to the heat in a stranger’s eyes. It was in her genes, after all. Avery had been wrong about a lot of things, but not about that.

What was wrong with her today? She was behaving badly. And even when David Chambers had held out an olive branch—a ragged one, it was true, but an olive branch nevertheless—she’d slapped it out of his hand.

Stephanie took a deep breath and turned toward him.

“Mr. Chambers...”

Her words caught in her throat. He was smiling... no, he wasn’t. Not really. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a way that reminded her of a mastiff Avery had owned when she’d first married him and gone to live in the house on Oak Hill—when she’d still been young enough, stupid enough, to have thought their arrangement could work.

“Oh,” she’d said, “just look at your dog, Avery. He’s smiling at me.”

And Avery had guffawed and slapped his knees and said that he’d truly picked himself a backwoods ninny if she thought that was a smile, and maybe she’d like to offer the mastiff her hand and see if it came back with all the fingers still attached.

“Yes?” David said politely. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

“No,” Stephanie said just as politely. “Not a thing.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. I think I’ve just about run out of conversation, myself—except to point out that, with any luck at all, we’ll never have the misfortune to meet again.” His wolfish smile flickered. “Have I left anything out?”

“Not a thing. In fact, I doubt I could have put it better.”

David unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap. Stephanie did the same.

“Bon appétit, Mrs. Willingham,” David said softly.

“Bon appétit, Mr. Chambers,” Stephanie replied, and she picked up her fork, speared a shrimp, and began to eat.

More toasts were drunk, the wedding cake sliced. The Blums and the Crowders continued to make themselves scarce, appearing only from time to time and then just long enough to gobble down a few mouthfuls of each course as it was served.

“We just adore dancing,” Bobbi Blum gushed between the Boeuf aux Champignons and the salad.

“Same with us,” Hayden Crowder said as his wife sat smiling uneasily beside him. “Why, we never sit very long at these shindigs, no matter who’s seated at our table, do we, honey?”

“Never,” Honoria said, and jumped to her feet. “We never stay seated, no matter what.”

David watched with a thin smile as both couples hurried off. Then he pushed his plate aside, tilted back his chair and folded his arms over his chest.

“Well,” he said after a minute, “this is one wedding they’re never going to forget.”

Stephanie glanced up. “No. I suppose not.”

Across the dance floor, the Blums and the Crowders were standing in a little huddle, looking back at table seven as if they expected either the police or the men with straitjackets to show up at any minute.

David couldn’t help it. He laughed.

Stephanie’s lips twitched. “It isn’t funny,” she said stiffly—and then she laughed, too.

He looked at her. Her cheeks had taken on a delicate flush and there was a glint in her dark eyes that hadn’t been there before. She looked young, and beautiful, and suddenly he knew that he’d been kidding himself when he’d told himself she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in this room, because she was. She was more than beautiful, she was indescribably gorgeous.

And he’d been sniping at her for the past hour. Damn, he had to be crazy! Everything he’d done had been crazy, since he’d laid eyes on her. He should have sat down beside her, introduced himself, asked her if he could see her again. He should have told her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met....

He could still do all of that. It wasn’t too late and, heaven knew, it was the best idea he’d had in the past couple of hours.

“Mrs. Willingham. Stephanie. About what happened earlier...” Her face lifted toward his. David smiled. “In the church, I mean.”

“Nothing happened,” she said quickly.

“Come on, let’s not play games. Something happened, all right. I looked at you, you looked at me...”

“Mr. Chambers—”

“David.”

“Mr. Chambers.” Stephanie folded her hands in her lap. “Look, I know this isn’t your fault. I mean, I know Annie probably set this up.”

“Probably?” He laughed. “Of course, she set this up. You’re unattached. You are unattached, aren’t you?”

Stephanie nodded. “I’m a widow.”

“Yeah, well, I’m divorced. So Annie took a look at her guest list, saw my name, saw yours, and that was it. It’s in her blood, though I can’t imagine why, considering her own record.”

Color flooded Stephanie’s face. “I assure you, Mr. Chambers, I have absolutely no wish to marry, ever again.”

“Whoa!” David held up his hands. “One step at a time, Mrs. Willingham—and before anybody takes that step, let me assure you that I’d sooner waltz Mrs. Blum around the dance floor for the next three weeks than ever do something as stupid as tying another knot. Not in this lifetime. Or any other, for that matter.”

Stephanie tried not to smile. “There’s nothing wrong with Mrs. Blum.”

“She dances on her husband’s feet,” David said, “and she outweighs the both of us.” Stephanie laughed. His smile tilted, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “You have a nice laugh, Stephanie.”

“Mr. Chambers...”

“David. Surely we’ve insulted each other enough to be on a first-name basis.”

“David, maybe we did get off on the wrong foot, but—”

“So did Mrs. Blum.”

She smiled again, and his heart lifted. She really did have a nice smile.

“Let’s just forget it, shall we?”

“I’d like that, very much—especially since it was all my fault.”

“That’s kind of you, David, but, well, I was to blame, too. I—I saw the way you were looking at me in the church, you know, when you went to shut the doors, and—and I thought...” She took a deep breath. “All I’m trying to say is that I didn’t mean to be so—so—”

“Impolite?” he asked innocently. “Judgmental? Is that the word you’re looking for?”

Laughter glinted in her eyes.

“You’re pushing your luck,” she said. “Putting words in my mouth that way.”

He thought of what he’d like to do with that mouth, how badly he wanted to taste it, and cleared his throat.

“Ah,” he said, shaking his head sadly, “and here I thought the widow Willingham was about to offer a full apology for her behavior. So much for the mystique of Southern good manners.”

“My manners are usually impeccable. And how can you be so certain I’m from the South?”

He chuckled. “‘An’ how can you be so suhtain Ah’m from th’South?’” he said.

Stephanie tried not to smile, but it was impossible. “I’m glad my accent amuses you, Mr. Chambers.”

“I promise you, Mrs. Willingham, I’m not laughing at you. Matter of fact, I like your drawl. It’s very feminine.”

“If you’re waiting for me to say I like the sound of your Montana twang, Mr. Chambers—”

“Montana?” David slapped his hand over his heart. “Good God, woman, you do know how to wound a man. I’m from Wyoming.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that all you can say, after you accuse me of being from a state where the cows outnumber the people three to one?” He grinned. “At least, in Wyoming, we only have one critter that walks upright for every two point something that moos.”

Stephanie laughed politely. “My apologies.”

“Apologies accepted. And, just for the record, I have no accent.”

Her smile was warm and open this time. He had an accent; she was sure he knew it as well as she did. His voice was low and husky; it reminded her of high mountains and wide open spaces, of a place where the night sky would be bright with stars and the grassy meadows would roll endlessly toward the horizon....

“Gotcha,” he said softly.

Stephanie blinked. “What?”

“You smiled,” David said with a little smile of his own. “Really smiled. And I agree.”

“Agree about what?” she said in total confusion.

“That we got off to the wrong start.”

She considered the possibility. Perhaps they had. He seemed a nice enough man, this friend of Annie’s. There was no denying his good looks, and he had a sense of humor, too. Not that she was interested in him. Not that she’d ever be interested in any man. Still, that was no reason not to be polite. Pleasant, even. This was just one day out of her life. One afternoon. And what had he done, when you came down to it? Looked at her, that was all. Just looked at her, and even though she hated it, she was accustomed to it.

Men had always looked at her, even before Avery had come along.

Besides, she wasn’t guiltless. For one heart-stopping instant, for one quick spin of the planet, she’d looked at David and felt—she’d felt...

“Stephanie?”

She raised her head. David was watching her, eyes dark and intense.

“How about we begin over?”

He held out his hand. Stephanie hesitated. Then, very slowly and carefully, she lifted her hand from her lap and placed it in his.

“That’s it,” he said softly. His fingers closed around hers. They were warm, and hard, and calloused. That surprised her. Despite what he’d said about being from the west, despite the cowboy boots and the ponytail and the incredible width of his shoulders, everything about him whispered of wealth and power. Men like that didn’t have hands that bore the imprint of hard work, not in her world.

He bent his head toward hers. She knew she ought to pull back but she couldn’t. His eyes were still locked on hers. They seemed to draw her in.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Stephanie.”

“Mr. Chambers...”

“I thought we’d progressed to David.”

“David.” Stephanie ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She saw him follow the motion with his eyes and the tiny flame that had come to life hours before sprang up again deep within her. A warning tingled along her skin. “David,” she said again, “I think—I think it’s nice that we made peace with each other, but—”

“We should be honest, too.”

“I am being honest. I don’t want—”

“Yes. You do want.” His voice had taken on a roughness. A huskiness. It made the trembling flame within her burn brighter. “We both do.”

“No!”

He could feel the sudden tension radiating from her fingers to his. Don’t be a fool, David told himself fiercely. There was plenty of time. The longer it took to go from that first beat of sexual awareness to the bed, the greater the pleasure. He’d lived long enough to know that.

But he couldn’t slow down. Not with this woman. He wanted her, now. Right now. He wanted her beneath him, her body naked to his hands and mouth, her eyes liquid with desire as he touched her, entered her.

“Come with me,” he said urgently. “I have a car outside. We’ll find a hotel.”

“You bastard!” She tore her hand from his. “Is that what the past few minutes were all about?”

“No,” he said, trying to deny it, as much to himself as to her. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, that the slightest gust of wind could come by and send him tumbling out into space. He’d met women before, wanted them, but not like this. Not with a need so fierce it obliterated everything else. “Stephanie—”

“Don’t ‘Stephanie’ me!” She shoved back her chair. Her face was flushed; she glared at him, her mouth trembling. “You’ve wasted your time, Mr. Chambers. I know your game.”

“Dammit, it isn’t a game! I saw you, and I wanted you. And you wanted me. That’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it? Because you felt the same thing, only you’re afraid to admit it.”

“I’m not afraid of anything, Mr. Chambers, especially not of a man like you.”

It was a lie. She was afraid; he saw it in her eyes, in the feverish color in her cheeks.

“I know your type, sir. You see a woman like me, your mind goes rolling straight into the gutter.”

“What?” he said with an incredulous little laugh.

“As for what I want... You flatter yourself. I’d no more want you in my bed than I’d want a cottonmouth moccasin there! Why would I? Why would any woman in her right mind want to subjugate herself to a—a—”

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”

Stephanie clamped her lips together. She and David both looked up. Annie Cooper stood over them, smiling happily.

“Annie,” David said after a minute. He cleared his throat. “Hello.”

“I hated to interrupt,” Annie said, smiling. “You two were so deep in conversation.”

Stephanie looked at David, then at Annie. “Uh, yes. Yes, we were.” She smiled brightly. “It’s a lovely wedding, Annie. Really lovely.”

Annie pulled out a chair and sat down. “So,” she said slyly, “I figured right, hmm?”

“Figured right?”

“About you guys.” Annie grinned. “Dawn and I were doing the seating chart and Dawn said to me, ‘Mom, except for Nicky, the best-looking man at the wedding is going to be Uncle David.’ And I said to her, ‘Well, except for you, my gorgeous, too-young-to-be-a-bride daughter, the most beautiful woman at the wedding is going to be your very own cupid, Stephanie.’”

“Annie,” David said, “listen—”

“So my brilliant offspring and I put our heads together and, voilà, we put the pair of you at the same table.” Annie smiled. “Clever, if I say so myself, no?”

“No,” Stephanie said. “I mean, I’m sure you thought it was, Annie, but—”

Annie laughed. “Relax, you two. We won’t expect you to announce your engagement or anything. Not today, any-way... My gosh, Stef, I’m making you blush. And David...if looks could kill, I’d be lying in a heap on the floor.” A furrow appeared between her eyes. “Don’t tell me we goofed! Aren’t you two having a good time? Haven’t you hit it off?”

“We’re having a terrific time,” Stephanie said quickly. “Aren’t we...David?”

David smiled tightly and shoved back his chair. “Better than terrific,” he said. “Excuse me for a minute, will you? I’m going to get myself a drink. Annie? Stephanie? Can I bring you ladies something?”

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Annie said. “I’m on overload as it is.”

A bludgeon, Stephanie thought. “White wine,” she said, because Annie was looking at her expectantly.

David nodded. “Be right back.”

Damn, he thought grimly as he made his way across the ballroom, damn! Why in hell was he making such a fool of himself with Stephanie Willingham? She was wild as a mustang and beautiful as a purebred, and okay, there wasn’t another woman in the place who could hold a candle to her, but either he’d read the signs wrong and she wasn’t interested, or she liked to play games. Whichever it was, why should he care? The world was filled with beautiful women and finding ones who were interested had never been a problem. They seemed to go for his type, whatever that was.

It was just that there was something about Stephanie. All that frost. Or maybe the heat. It was crazy. A woman couldn’t be hot and cold at the same time, she couldn’t look at a man as if she wanted to be in his arms one minute and wanted to slap him silly the next unless she was a tease, and instinct told him that whatever she was, she was not that.

What he ought to do was walk right on past the bar, out the door and to his car. Drive to the airport, catch the shuttle back to D.C....

David’s brows lifted. He began to smile.

“Chase?” he called.

There was no mistaking the set of shoulders in front of him. It was his old pal, Chase Cooper, the father of the bride.

Chase turned around, saw David, and held out his hand. “David,” he said, and then both men grinned and gave each other a quick bear hug. “How’re you doing, man?”

“Fine, fine. How about you?”

Chase lifted his glass to his lips and knocked back half of the whiskey in it in one swallow.

“Never been better. What’ll you have?”

“Scotch,” David said to the bartender. “A single malt, if you have it, on the rocks. And a glass of Chardonnay.”

Chase smiled. “Don’t tell me that you’re here with a lady. Has the love bug bitten you, too?”

“Me?” David laughed. “The wine’s for a lady at my table. The love bug already bit me, remember? Once bitten, twice shy. No, not me. Never again.”

“Yeah.” Chase nodded, and his smile flickered. “I agree. You marry a woman, she turns into somebody else after a couple of years.”

“You’ve got it,” David said. “Marriage is a female fantasy. Promise a guy anything to nab him, then look blank when he expects you to deliver.” The bartender set the Scotch in front of David, who lifted the glass to his lips and took a drink. “Far as I’m concerned, a man’s got a housekeeper, a cook, and a good secretary, what more does he need?”

“Nothing,” Chase said a little too quickly, “not one thing.”

David glanced back across the ballroom. He could see Stephanie, sitting alone at the table. Annie had left, but she hadn’t bolted. It surprised him.

“Unfortunately,” he said, trying for a light touch, “there is one other thing a man needs, and it’s the thing that most often gets guys like you and me in trouble.”

“Yeah.” Chase followed his gaze, then lifted his glass and clinked it against David’s. “Well, you and I both know how to deal with that little problem. Bed ‘em and forget ’em, I say.”

David grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”

“To what? What are you guys up to, hidden away over here?”

Both men turned around. Dawn, radiant in white lace, and with Nick at her side, beamed at them.

“Daddy,” she said, kissing her father’s cheek. “And Mr. Chambers. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Hey.” David smiled. “What happened to ‘Uncle David’? I kind of liked the honorary title.” He held out his hand to Nicholas, said all the right things, and stood by politely until the bridal couple moved off.

Chase sighed. “That’s the only good thing comes of a marriage,” he said. “A kid of your own, you know?”

David nodded. “I agree. I’d always hoped...” He shrugged. “Hey, Cooper,” he said with a quick grin, “you stand around a bar long enough, you get maudlin. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“Yes,” Chase said. “My attorney, five years ago when we got wasted after my divorce was finalized.”

The men smiled at each other, and then David slapped Chase lightly on the back.

“You ought to circulate, man. There’s a surprising assortment of good-looking single women here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“For a lawyer,” Chase said with a chuckle, “sometimes you manage to come up with some pretty decent suggestions. So, what’s with the brunette at your table? She spoken for?”

“She is,” David said gruffly. “For the present, at least.”

Chase grinned. “You dirty dog, you. Well, never mind. I’ll case the joint, see what’s available.”

“Yeah.” David grinned in return. “You do that.”

The men made their goodbyes. Chase set off in one direction, David in the other. The dance floor had grown crowded; the band had launched into a set of sixties’ standards that seemed to have brought out every couple in the room. David wove between them, his gaze fixed on Stephanie. He saw her turn and look in his direction. Their eyes met; he felt as if an electric current had run through his body.

“Whoops.” A woman jostled his elbow. “Sorry.”

David looked around, nodded impatiently as she apologized. The music ceased. The dancers applauded, and the crowd parted.

Table seven was just ahead. The Blums were there, and the Crowders.

But Stephanie Willingham was gone.