Kimberly Raye - Restless

“No,” she blurted. Flushed or not, she wasn’t about to discourage Shelby when he’d finally worked up his nerve to ask her to dance.

“Don’t be silly.” She put on her brightest smile. “I’m just tired of lugging around this video camera. I’d love to dance. It’ll give me a chance to ditch this thing for a little while.” She dropped the camera onto a nearby table and, with the bouquet clutched in one hand, took Shelby’s with her other, determined to ignore the pull of the man who stood several feet away.

A few seconds later, she was moving across the dance floor as if she’d been born to it. Ironic considering she’d been the worst dancer in two counties up until a month ago when she’d enrolled in Earl Sharp’s Dancing for Beginners.

Paige Cassidy had been the worst at everything.

It’s all in the past.

She’d turned over a new leaf, started a new chapter of her life, and she wasn’t looking back. She had been naive and clueless way back when, but she was changing things. She was rising above her background and bettering herself by taking several self-improvement classes.

The past was over and done with and Paige was looking toward the future.

Her gaze strayed of its own volition to the handsome man standing at the bar before she gave herself a great big mental kick in the butt.

Men like Mr. Made For Sex had only one thing on their minds when it came to women, and it wasn’t the future. While he might be good for a wild, hot romp in bed, he wasn’t a forever kind of guy, and that’s the only kind Paige was interested in at this point. She’d fallen for his type before and found nothing but a world of heartache.

The next time she slid between the sheets, it was going to be with someone who would be there the morning after and the morning after that. Someone who wouldn’t take the best years of her life, then roll out of town one day with MaryJean Wallaby, the customer service clerk from the Piggly Wiggly with the biggest pair of boobs in the county.

Not a notorious love ‘em and leave ‘em type like Jack Mission.

No matter how her heart pounded every time she glanced his way.

AFTER THIRTY YEARS of living, there were only two things in life Jack made it a point never to do.

He didn’t stand within stomping distance of a newly broken horse, even one that appeared as calm as the Gulf on a hot summer afternoon.

And he didn’t dance.

Of course, it wasn’t the dancing itself he had a problem with. That was the fun part. Bodies touching. Rubbing. Feeling.

His gaze went to the redhead two-stepping her way around the dance floor, a full arm’s length of space between her and her partner, and he couldn’t help but smile. The way he moved to a sultry George Strait tune involved two bodies getting to know each other, but not everyone seemed to have the same notion.

She danced the same way she did everything else—prim and proper. Like the way she’d held the video camera, her back stiff and straight, a serious look on her face as if she were filming a late breaking news story rather than a wedding reception. Or the way she’d held her back so stiff and straight when she’d caught the bridal bouquet. Or even the way she’d eaten her slice of wedding cake—her napkin on her lap, her mouth firmly closed after each mouthful, not a crumb falling on her cover-everything-up floral print dress.

His gaze roved from her shoulders down to her waist—where there would have been a waist if the dress had been a little more flattering. It wasn’t. It hung like a sack, making her look shapeless from her shoulders to her trim ankles. His gaze snagged on the ankle bracelet glistening below her calf and his fingers itched to trace the path the gold followed.

Crazy. She wasn’t his type. She was like all the other women here who’d practically fallen over each other to catch his new sister-in-law’s bouquet. Marriage-minded. Every single one of them.

And dancing with such a woman, especially in a small town like Inspiration, was like courting. One led to two. Two to three. Next came dating and before he knew it, he’d find himself trussed up in another monkey suit, only he wouldn’t be standing in as best man this time. He’d be taking the vows himself.

He’d made that mistake before. He’d never make it again.

“How about it?” An attractive blonde motioned to the dance floor. “You want to prove you know how to use those boots you’re wearing?”

“I really appreciate the invite.” He smiled and held up his bottle. “But I’m still nursing this beer, sugar.” He touched the rim to his lips and downed a minimal swallow of the gold liquid.

“Later then?”

The refusal was there on the tip of his lips, but she looked so hopeful. Before he could stop himself, he nodded. “Later.”

He watched as she walked back to the cluster of women who hovered near the cake table, at least half of whom had already asked him to dance.

His gaze went to his beer. He had all of three swallows before later arrived and he had to make good on his word to all of them. Then again, if he took small sips, he could stretch it out to a good six or seven.

“Come on, stud. Let’s dance.”

“Sorry, darlin’, but I’m still working on this—” The words died as Jack turned to find his new sister-in-law smiling up at him, looking every bit as beautiful in white as he’d imagined when he’d gotten word that Jimmy was finally tying the knot. She had long, dark hair, bright blue eyes and a figure that had undoubtedly lured his brother like a bee to honey. But Jack had no doubt it had been her intelligence and the sympathetic glimmer in her gaze that had caught ole Jimmy for good.

“It’s a law,” Deb told him. “You have to dance with the bride, particularly if the groom is busy talking new breeding techniques with his new stepdad at the bar.”

Jack’s gaze went to the trio standing a few feet away—Jimmy, his mother and an older man with a gray handlebar mustache. The man slid his arm around Jack’s mother and she smiled.

“She’s had a permanent smile on her face since the two of them walked down the aisle a few months back. She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Deb asked, her gaze following Jack’s.

“Very.” A welcome sight because the last time he’d seen his mother, she’d been dressed in black, a tear-dampened handkerchief clutched in her hand as she’d watched his father’s casket lowered into the ground. A heart attack had taken the elder Mission several years ago while he’d been out riding fence. His mother had taken it hard, but just as his dad would have wanted, she’d eventually started to live again. He smiled. He couldn’t think of anyone who deserved a little happiness after so much heartache. “Red seems like a good man.”

“He is, and speaking of men, I’ve danced with everyone here with an X chromosome, except Jupiter Daniels, and word is down at the VFW that his X is questionable. That leaves my new brother-in-law.”

“So I’m a last resort, am I?”

“Maybe I saved the best for last.” She took the bottle from his hand and downed the last few swallows with one gulp. “Now you’re all done. Let’s go.”

“Nice wedding,” he murmured once they were moving around the dance floor. He caught the faint scent of apples and cinnamon and half-turned, only to see the redhead a few feet away, a serious expression on her face, her full lips moving as if she were counting each step. She was so stiff, he had the insane urge to haul her into his arms just to see if he could loosen her up.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she had the fullest, softest looking lips he’d ever seen. And it certainly wasn’t because he actually wanted to feel those lips against his own.