Temptation’s Edge (35 page)

She was. Thrilled for Dylan, and for Kara. Wondering if she’d ever find real happiness again herself. She’d thought she was happy on her own. Running her life the way she chose to. Hell, she
had
been happy. But now, everything had changed…or maybe this wedding fever stuff really was contagious. She was being overly sentimental.

“Okay,” Betsy announced, “it’s time, ladies.”

Dylan found Mischa’s hand and held it as they rode the elevator back upstairs.

“It’s really happening.”

“Yep,” Mischa told her, smiling. “Everything’s going to be great.”

Lucie was waiting when the elevator doors opened, and there was a small flurry as Lucie, Kara and Mischa fluttered around Dylan, straightening her dress, patting her hair, making sure the orchids pinned there were secure.

The music started, the lovely first notes of the opera
Lakme
’s Flower Duet.

“You’re first, Mischa,” Betsy whispered, “then Kara, then Lucie. You’ll all line up to the right of the officiant, with Mischa standing closest to Dylan. Dylan, you’ll go as soon as they take their places up front.”

Mischa nodded, stood at the foot of the small flight of stairs leading to the Garden Court.

“And…go,” Betsy told her.

She started up the stairs, almost wishing she had a bouquet to hold just so she’d have something to do with her shaking hands. She saw first the small pieces of Southeast Asian art mounted on some of the higher shelves on the walls of the court, intricately carved pieces in wood and sandstone. As she mounted the stairs she saw the rows of seated guests, their backs to her. And when she reached the top she saw Alec and his best man, Dante, standing at the other end of the lovely slate-tiled room with its vaulted, greenhouse-like glass-paned ceiling.

Next to Dante was Connor.

It took her breath away to see him. He was so damn handsome in his dark suit, his ivory shirt and tie. So sophisticated. And he was watching her from the moment her foot found the top step,
even before anyone else had noticed her. Watching her in the way he always did. Carefully. Thoughtfully.

She thought her heart was going to pound its way right out of her chest. And she wanted more than anything to turn and run. Well, more than anything except make Dylan’s day what it was supposed to be: perfect. So instead she took that first step and began to move down the aisle, inexorably toward him.

Just keep breathing
.

She was vaguely aware of the guest’s eyes on her as she found her place at the front of the room, remembered to send Alec a small, encouraging smile. She watched as Kara, then Lucie, made their way down the aisle and took their places next to her. Then finally all heads turned as Dylan moved down the aisle, and Mischa was distracted from the grief inside her as she saw the expression of pure joy on her best friend’s face, her flawless skin glowing. She was absolutely overwhelmed by Dylan’s beauty at that moment, and her friend’s happiness, the excitement she saw on Alec’s face, settled over her like a lovely warmth.

The ceremony began with the officiant, an old friend of Alec’s, reading pieces from Rumi, talking about the enduring bonds of love. Mischa glanced at Connor, found his gaze held steadily on her. She tried to look away, but his eyes were blazing, electric. She swore she saw pain there. Confusion. Anger. The same things she was feeling herself.

She shifted her balance from one foot to the other as the ceremony continued, and when the officiant talked about the imperfection that was real love, she finally had to tear her gaze away. She looked instead at the guests, focusing on Dylan’s grandmother in the front row, who was happily leaking tears into an embroidered handkerchief.

Dylan and Alec exchanged rings and said their vows. And beyond them, Connor’s steady green gaze bore into her.

Why wouldn’t he look away? Leave her alone during the ceremony, at least, when they were supposed to be focused on their friends’ wedding? Instead he was making her damn uncomfortable. Making her tremble with yearning to be with him, damn it. And with that small rage she hadn’t been able to leave behind.

Don’t think about it. Don’t look at him. Be here for Dylan.

With some effort she drew her gaze back to the happy couple as they finished their vows, then kissed as they were pronounced husband and wife. A small cheer went up from the guests and the wedding party, and she joined in as Alec dipped Dylan, their kiss long and passionate.

Alec straightened, his grin full of mischief as he muttered, “What the hell,” and lifted Dylan into his arms, carrying her back down the aisle. Everyone laughed, and Mischa followed, only to be joined by Connor. He took her arm as they made their way between the rows of chairs. There was nothing she could do about it.

“Nice to see you,” he said quietly.

She turned to look at him, found a smile on his face as he nodded to the guests. She tried to do the same.

“Is it?” she asked.

“I’m the one who came to you, Mischa, remember?”

She didn’t know what to say.

“We need to talk,” he said out of the corner of his mouth as they reached the doorway at the back of the room.

He led her down the stairs, where she broke free of his arm. She turned to face him, doing her best to remain calm despite the racing of her pulse, the heat in her body from being so close to him, her throat so tight she felt she could hardly speak, all of which she wanted to deny, and couldn’t.

“This is their wedding!” she hissed under her breath, her gaze darting to where Dante was coming down the aisle, Kara on one arm and Lucie on the other, then back to Connor. She moved
toward the front doors and he followed. “This is hardly the time or the place.”

“No, the time and the place were when I came to see you in San Francisco,” he said calmly, but there was banked emotion beneath the quiet tone of his voice. “And I know damn well if I let you walk out of here tonight you won’t let there be another chance. I have no intention of allowing that to happen.”

The command that had always melted her was there, and it had the same effect on her now. She silently cursed herself.

“What if I promise you we can talk tomorrow?”

A small shake of his head. “Not good enough. I don’t want to make a scene here, but we can find a quiet corner before the night is over.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

He shook his head, his gaze hard on hers. God, she’d nearly forgotten how green his eyes were, how the gold flecks made them look as if they were lit up from within.

Stop it.

“Okay,” she finally relented. “We’ll find some way to talk before the end of the night.”

“Yes, we will.”

She huffed, indignant at his insistence, his relentless bossiness, but also at her body’s undeniably electric response to him.

Kara, Dante and Lucie joined them, followed by the guests. Waitstaff were roaming around with trays of champagne to keep everyone busy while tables were being moved into the Garden Court and set for dinner and dancing.

“They should have the room set up in about twenty minutes,” Lucie told them. “Alec and Dylan are having a few private moments in one of the side alcoves.”

“I’m sure they’ll need more than a few moments,” Dante said, grinning.

Kara rolled her eyes. “You have a dirty mind,” she told her fiancé.

“You like that about me,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Kara grinned. “Lucky for you, I do.”

“Definitely lucky,” he said, taking her hand and brushing a kiss across the back of it.

Mischa’s stomach twisted as she remembered the touch of Connor’s lips on her hand. And it made her damn uncomfortable to think about it while he was standing right next to her, making her miss the way he kissed her. Making her miss
him
.

Inexplicably, her eyes misted, and she excused herself to make her way to the ladies’ room.

She dabbed at her eyes, checking her reflection in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t mussed her makeup—and couldn’t resist taking a moment to shake her head at herself. She must be crazy to even allow herself to think for one moment that anything could come of this conversation with Connor tonight. He was not the kind of guy to really want anything from her. And she didn’t want anything from him. At least, she didn’t
want
to want anything. But the horrible truth was, she did. She’d known it for a long time. Had known it when she’d left Seattle—and him—behind. Had known it deep in her soul the moment she’d seen him tonight. But how could she possibly get past the fact that the very wanting scared her just as deeply? How could she get past the certainty that loving him meant the end of everything she’d worked so hard to build for herself? Her business, her independence. Her sense of safety.

She knew on some level that she felt safe only because she’d built a defensive wall around herself, one no one could break through. Except that Connor had found the chink in her armor. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to repair it.

The fact also remained that she wasn’t even certain he wanted
to do anything more than get an apology from her for being so rough on him. Maybe he’d had enough. Maybe he simply felt a need to tell her that.

Tears stung her eyes once more, but she was
not
going to cry.

She laid a hand over her pounding heart. She had to calm down, to be there for Dylan. She was strong enough to hold it together for one night, damn it, Connor or not.

She pulled in a deep breath, straightened her dress, and made her way back to where the guests were mingling while they drank their champagne. Dylan found her and introduced her to her grandmother, who Mischa could see now looked a lot like an older version of Dylan. Dylan passed her then to some friends, including Veronica, the gorgeous makeup artist she’d met earlier at Dylan’s place, then Kara introduced her to two women she remembered seeing from a distance at the Pleasure Dome. Which brought her thoughts back to Connor.

Glancing around, she saw him talking with a group of men. He looked up, caught her gaze, and for a moment that lasted a little too long, their eyes locked. Her body went hot all over in a flash. She was the first to look away, sipping the glass of champagne she’d grabbed from a passing waiter’s tray.

Finally it was time for everyone to file back into the Garden Court, where round tables were gorgeously set with ivory linens. In the center of each was a glass globe vase, smooth stones lining the bottom, miniature pale green and creamy white calla lilies mixed with trailing stems of tiny white and green orchids. The dishes were a simple rippled and frosted glass, leaving the beautiful, ancient artwork lining the walls as the main focus of the room.

The DJ, who was mostly hidden from view in one of the side alcoves, was playing some light jazz, soothing, elegant dinner music, as everyone found their seats. Mischa went to the table set
aside for the wedding party and was glad to find she was seated next to Dylan, and relieved to see Connor sitting between Lucie and Kara.

She focused on Dylan, chatting about what a beautiful bride she made, how perfect the ceremony had been, all the time watching Connor from the corner of her eye, acutely, disturbingly aware of him. She found his gaze on her several times, but he was too hard to read. There was a fire burning in his green eyes, but what did it mean? Anger? Passion? Which one frightened her more?

Dinner was served, but she could barely taste her miso-glazed salmon. She washed down the few bites she had with a few sips of champagne. If she was going to have to have a talk with Connor later she’d need to keep a clear head; she was being very careful about how much she drank.

Dante stood and rang his glass with a spoon, announcing it was time to make the toasts. His was partly funny, partly sentimental. Mischa tried to focus on the words, but the entire event, much to her dismay, was going by in a blur.

Dinner ended and Dylan and Alec moved to the small dance floor at one end of the court for their first dance. She couldn’t help a small sigh of envy at how utterly romantic it was as Alec swept his bride over the floor, at the way they looked at each other. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such love in two people’s eyes, and her own threatened to fill with tears once more.

Kara and Dante joined them on the dance floor, and Lucie’s roommate Tyler took the petite blonde by the hand and led her to dance. She didn’t have time to consider what might come next before Connor was at her elbow.

“Mischa.”

She hated that her entire body responded to the sound of her name on his lips with a long, lovely shudder.

She started to shake her head. “Connor…”

“It’s expected,” he said. “We’re part of the wedding party.”

She sighed, but stood and let him lead her to the floor, let him put an arm around her waist and pull her in close.

“Try to relax and look natural, will you?” he prompted.

He was right. She let her body go loose, melt a little against his.

“There, that’s better,” he said, his tone softer than it had been with her all evening. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Maybe not,” she said, not willing to give in. They moved over the floor, his grace surprising her. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, apparently,” he said, his accent as thick as it had ever been. “Like the fact I can be quite stubborn.”

“I think I’ve seen that.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it, sweetheart.”

She pulled back a bit, looked up into his too-handsome face. His expression was perfectly serious, a little hard and sharp around the edges.

She kept her tone low, her expression as neutral as possible, aware that they were surrounded by wedding guests. “Connor, I don’t know what all of this macho bravado stuff is supposed to mean. It’s different from your usual domly air of authority, which I get. But I’m not getting what’s going on right now at all. You’ve been awfully casual about what was happening between us until now. Or until you showed up at my place in San Francisco, anyway.”

“Maybe I was,” he said gruffly.

“I’m going to be living part of the time in Seattle,” she went on, unable to stop herself now. “In your town, socializing with your friends who happen to be
our
friends. Yet you’ve never mentioned anything past Dylan and Alec’s wedding. As if the future didn’t even exist.”