Susan Carlisle - Christmas With The Best Man

She looked at his father but her attention remained on Elijah. For some reason she had the idea she was a lifeline for him at the moment. That he needed this sexual tension between them to focus on instead of his father. When Hugo Davenport finished speaking the stiffness in his son’s body eased. Elijah no longer touched her.

Soon the bride’s cake was rolled out into the center of the dance floor. Grace and Charles went out to cut it. With the flash of the photographer’s camera they cut and shared a bite, smiling at each other. The wait staff brought champagne in silver buckets for each of the tables. At the same moment they released the caps. A pop, pop, pop filled the air.

The silverware and glasses rattling jolted Helena’s look away from the bride and groom to her tablemates. Zac’s head was down almost completely under the table. A few seconds later he straightened. His jaw was tight and his mouth drawn into a straight line. There was a dark, glazed expression in his eyes.

“Uh, sorry. I dropped my napkin. Hit my head underneath the table,” Zac muttered. He looked more anxious than he did embarrassed.

A light tap on her shoulder made Helena glance around to see the wedding director holding a microphone. Heavens, she had forgotten she would have to make a toast.

Swallowing hard, she stood and lifted her glass. “To Grace and Charles. I wish for you a happily ever after.” With that she lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip. The other wedding guests joined her.

She turned and offered the microphone to Elijah. Smiling, she said softly, “Now it’s your turn.”

“Why am I not surprised with your choice of toast?” he hissed, before he raised the microphone to his mouth. He paused as if giving what he was going to say deep thought. “Charles, I’m glad you found Grace. Grace, take care of him. He is the better half of me. Love him, he deserves it. I wish you both the best.” Lifting his glass, Elijah drained the liquid. Done, he gave the wedding director the microphone and took his seat.

The crowd erupted in applause.

Helena leaned toward Elijah. “Very nice.”

He grinned, the first genuine one he’d had in a while. “I bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

There was no chance for her to comment before a waiter placed a plate with cake on it in front of her. While taking a bite, she glanced at Zac. He still looked on edge. Before she finished her dessert, he excused himself from the table. Did all the Davenports have some issue?

With the toasts completed and the cake served, a small ensemble in one corner of the tent struck up the first tune of the evening. Charles led Grace onto the dance floor and into a waltz. Grace looked radiant, having only eyes for her new husband. Helena sighed. That was what she wanted. A real relationship. To be so in love that nothing they faced together would be impossible.

“You’re drinking all this in, aren’t you?” Elijah said as he leaned in close behind her.

“They look so in love.” Even she heard the dreamy note in her voice.

“So it appears,” Elijah said dryly.

She twisted toward him. “You don’t believe in love?”

Elijah said flatly, “I’m not sure I know what it is.”

Helena considered him for a moment. “How sad.” She noticed a flicker of insecurity in his eyes before she turned back to watch Grace and Charles.

The song ended and another began. The wedding director came up beside them and spoke softly to Elijah.

“It’s time for us to join the bride and groom.” Elijah stood and offered his hand to Helena.

She looked at it. What would it be like, being held by him? The thought sent a flash of sensual current through her she wasn’t comfortable with but couldn’t ignore. Her gaze met his. There was a spark of a dare in his eyes. Something about his expression had her fearing she might be accepting more than a dance.

Elijah grinned. “It looks like the work of a bridesmaid and best man is never done.”

Her hand touched his. It was large, smooth, and solid. His long, tapered fingers surrounded hers. With a gentle tug, he helped her to her feet. His hand rested lightly at her waist as she moved ahead of him toward the dance floor. She shivered.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be warm enough in a minute,” he whispered from close beside her.

That’s what she was afraid of. Her over-the-top reaction to him. Did it show? Did he see it? Did the others?

Her feet had hardly touched the dance floor before she was swept into Elijah’s sturdy arms and whisked away. One of her hands he held securely in his while the other she placed on his broad shoulder. His free hand fanned out on her waist to firmly hold her close. Her breasts skimmed his chest, tingling in reaction.

He smelled of citrus and smoke. It reminded her of the pleasure of a cool fall night, sitting around a fire watching the flames. In a weak moment she moved to rest her cheek against his. It was smooth. He’d shaved before dressing for the wedding. She inhaled. That scent she would forever associate with Elijah.

As his skillful feet moved she followed, her dress swirling around her legs and his as well. She’d never before been swept around a dance floor like this. He was a magnificent dancer. All she had to do was to hang on and enjoy.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Surprised?”

“Maybe a little. I just never pegged you as a ballroom dancer.”

“I’m not. I haven’t done this in years. My mother saw to it that we all learned to dance. ‘Davenport men must put their best foot forward.’ I heard that more than once.”

“I’ll have to thank her for this wonderful experience.”

“It’s not just all her. I’m the one doing the work here.” He sounded a little perturbed.

She looked at him. “I thank you as well.”

They made another heavenly turn around the floor. Helena looked away from Elijah long enough to see that others in the wedding party had joined them.

“You know you look amazing tonight,” he said softly against her temple.

His appreciation stoked the growing fire in her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had complimented her on her appearance. “Thank you.”

“Helena?” He rolled her name around on his tongue as if he was trying to remember something of importance. “Reminds me of Helen of Troy. If my memory of Greek mythology is correct, Helen was worshipped for her beauty. The Trojan War was fought over her.” He looked into her eyes. “Have any wars been fought over you?”

“No.”

“Maybe just not yet.” His face turned serious. “Let me think what else I can remember about her.”

They continued to dance. Helena forgot there was anyone else around them.

He finally said, “She was fickle in her youth. Were you?”

Helena could have been considered that. She certainly managed to make a mess of her teenage years. “Some.”

“She was carried off to Troy by the Spartans. And here you are in New York so far from home. And if I remember correctly, she wished for a husband and child. How about you, is that what you want?”

“Sure. Don’t most women?”

“Some don’t. I could tell from your toast you are into all this.” He nodded toward the wedding festivities.

“What’s not to love about love?”

He snorted. “That’s just a bunch of malarkey that’s perpetuated to make money.”

“You don’t think much of weddings, do you?” She pulled back so she could see him clearly.

“Nope. Waste of money and energy.” Elijah pulled her back to him. “I believe in having a good time where both people can leave without having any feelings hurt.” His look grew intense and questioning. “And mutual satisfaction for as long as it lasts.”