“Yeah, I can see that.”
“So, then, why are you letting her dance with some stuck-up witch?”
“Because it’s safer.”
“Nonsense.” Caine frowned. “Everyone is on their best behavior. You don’t have to worry about anyone here.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Hector took another sip of his drink.
Caine lifted one brow. “Ah. I see.”
“How do you—” he cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of exactly what he wanted to ask “—and Eve manage your differences?”
“Like any other couple, I suppose.”
“But you’re not like any other couple. You’re two completely different species.”
“Every man and every woman have differences. If a man and a woman want each other, if they want to be together badly enough, they’ll do what they must to make it work.” He smiled. “Sometimes it just takes creativity and patience. Lots and lots of patience.”
Eve came up behind Caine and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “What are the two of you talking about?”
“Hector was just asking how I’ve managed to keep you in line all this time.” Caine grabbed her arm and managed to swing her around so she was sitting in his lap. The move was smooth and practiced. Just like a vampire to be so cool.
“You both better hope to God that that wasn’t what you were talking about,” Eve said, squirming in Caine’s lap.
Caine planted a firm kiss on her mouth. She sighed, snuggling into him. Hector looked away, not wanting to intrude on their moment. His gaze swept the room and landed firmly on Fiona, who was standing near the head table talking to Lyra. Her head was down, but something made it come up and her gaze locked with his. In that second, his breath was nearly knocked from his chest.
“Oh, and if I can give you any advice, my friend.”
Hector glanced back at Caine.
“Don’t waste time.”
With that statement, Hector was up and out of his seat. He crossed the floor swiftly, his gaze never leaving Fiona’s. Her lips twitched as he drew near, and by the time he was only two feet away her smile was blossoming.
But he never got that chance to reach her.
Henri was back at the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bride will now toss her bouquet.”
Fiona’s smile faded as a swarm of single ladies grabbed her and propelled her into the middle of the dance floor. Hector couldn’t believe he’d been dashed again.
Lyra stood on the edge of the dance floor, her back to the murmuring throng of single ladies waiting impatiently for the flowers to be tossed back. On a count of three, she threw her bouquet over her head and into the crowd of women.
Amused, Hector watched as the women struggled to reach for the bouquet. And in the middle of it was Fiona, wide-eyed and frightened by the jostling mob around her. He had to smile. She looked so out of place and out of her element. He had an urge to dive into the crowd and save her.
But he didn’t have to. She managed to push through the throng and save herself. Laughing at the ridiculousness of it, she propelled herself out of the mob and ended up standing right in front of Hector. He smiled just before the bouquet came barreling down on top of her head.
It bounced off her red curls and landed at her feet. She glanced down at it, then up at him, then back toward the women who were screaming and racing toward her. Before the crowd could squash her, Hector grabbed her hand and pulled her from harm’s way. The movement caused him to go sailing back into a chair and Fiona ended up in his lap, laughing uncontrollably.
“I thought I was going to die there for a minute,” she managed to say after getting control of her laughter.
“So did I.” Hector laughed. “Death by bouquet.”
That caused her to burst into another round of hysterics. By the time she was done, tears streamed down her cheeks. Hector loved the sound of her laugh. It was full of heart and soul. Nothing was held back, and he wondered if that was how she lived her life. Full out. Never holding back.
Was that how she’d be in bed? She was an extremely passionate woman, and he couldn’t help but wonder what making love to her would be like. This wasn’t probably a good thing to think about, considering she was squirming and moving around on his lap.
She must’ve sensed his thoughts, because suddenly she stopped laughing and moving and really looked at him. Her cheeks were pink, and he wondered if she could hear what he was thinking. God, he hoped not. Or maybe he did. It would eliminate any pretenses.
He wanted her. In all kinds of desperate ways.
She pressed her lips together, and then swiped at the hair that was sticking to her cheek. Hector wanted to kiss her. The urge dug at him. It was almost painful how much he desired her.
Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, running his thumb down along her jawline. He tilted her head toward his, letting her know what he wanted. Her lips parted in anticipation, and it took all he had not to rush the moment in a desperate urge to taste her. He went slowly. So slow, the torture of it made him quiver.
Her breath came in short pants as he licked his lips and slowly brushed them against hers. The slightest touch sent a rush of heat down his neck. He couldn’t believe what just kissing this woman was doing to him.
Burying his other hand in the yards of her silky hair, he brought her closer and slowly, carefully, covered her mouth with his.
And that’s when the lights went out and the entire place was plunged into darkness.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He sighed in frustration.
Fiona fidgeted in his lap. “Sorry.”
Chapter 4
Of all the times for her knack with turning off electricity to show up. Just when the sexiest man she’d ever met was going to kiss her. And kiss her good, judging by the penetrating gaze he’d given her right before brushing his soft lips against hers.
She pushed out of his lap, anger and disappointment swirling in her belly. “Jeez, I can’t even come to my cousin’s wedding without messing everything up.”
His fingers wrapped around hers. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not so bad.”
She glanced around at the dark area. Points of green light started to appear haphazardly around the room. Witches of varying levels were making glowing green orbs of witchlight.
She met Lyra’s gaze over an emerald luminance Theron was forming in his hands. Her cousin smiled at her and shrugged. She was used to Fiona’s mishaps. Fiona appreciated her cousin’s nonchalance with the situation. It eased her guilt. But only a little.
“I’m going to go.”
With her hand still in his, Hector stood. “What? Why?”
“So Lyra can have the rest of her wedding reception. As long as I’m here there’ll be no light, no music, no anything.”
“Someone will work the breakers. It won’t last.”
Even in the low green glow of floating witchlights, Fiona could see the eagerness on Hector’s face. The pleading in his eyes. She looked away. She didn’t want to see it. Maybe this was fate’s way of telling them that they had no business being together, even for one passionate night.
She was a big believer in fate, signs and portents. And this one was telling her that their union was not supposed to happen. Everything was pointing to that now. Being interrupted while dancing, intercepted for the bouquet toss, now the lights going out right before their lips met.
But looking deep into his soulful brown eyes, she wanted to believe that their meeting was not by chance. That there could be something here between them.
“Don’t go,” he said again. “Have a drink with me. We can cozy up in the dark and make out.”
She laughed at that. But his suggestion sounded very tempting.
“Okay, but I’m going to talk to Lyra and Theron, and make sure they’re cool.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. But don’t be long.”
She smiled, feeling her cheeks burn. He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her in a strong, comforting hug. She hugged him back, sighing with the way he made her feel. Safe. Secure. Loved?
She shook her head at the last part. She was jumping to conclusions without any evidence. When he released her, taking a step back, she smiled again and went to find Lyra and Theron.
As she walked, she could feel Hector’s gaze on her back. She had to fight the urge to look over her shoulder at him, or even to turn around. She didn’t want to appear too smitten.
When she neared Lyra, her cousin was already looking at her as if she’d done another silly thing. “You’re not seriously thinking of leaving, are you?”
“I thought about it, but Hector talked me out of it.”
“Good.”
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me for messing with the electricity.”
“You’re an idiot, you know.” Lyra shook her head. “But I love you despite that.”
“I love you, too, even when you call me names.”
“Well, I’m glad Hector talked you into staying. Why would you leave, anyway?”
“I was thinking that this was just a sign that Hector and I aren’t supposed to be together.”
“Fi, you and your ‘signs’ are pretty much always wrong.”
“No, they aren’t. Remember Rob Sharp?”
“Yes. The question is do you remember Rob Sharp? Despite his name, the dullest knife in the drawer.”
“All the signs pointed to us not being together and I ignored them and our relationship was a disaster.”
“Yeah, because Rob was an idiot and a jerk.” Lyra frowned. “Hector Morales is neither. What are you afraid of?”
“That it’s the magic and nothing more. I don’t want to wake up the next morning and realize it was all just a spell.”
Lyra hugged her. “We all feel that way, Fi. But you have to take the chance it might not be.”
Fiona hugged her back hard. “When did you become the Dalai Lama to the lovelorn?