Part 31 (1/2)

But Samantha was now stuck with a vision of some faceless man (who looked like a tackling dummy in a suit-Blake Preston, aack!) slipping a fat diamond on her finger. Some things are better than chocolate.

No! Get out of my head.

But leave the chocolate.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

The most wonderful thing about love is the mystery and surprise of it.

-Muriel Sterling, Knowing Who You Are: One Woman's Journey Cecily had seen the work in progress as her mother and Kevin and Heinrich created their gala event setting and been impressed by her mother's creativity, but seeing the finished product when she and her sisters entered Festival Hall made her jaw drop. The place had been transformed from an empty hall to a ballroom fit for a queen. White and gold ceiling drapes set the tone for elegance and, from all the tables along the side of the hall, magenta votive candles cast light on globe vases filled to overflowing with white roses. The chairs at the tables had been draped with silk grapevines. Votives and vines adorned the punch table, too. In strategic corners of the room, tall floor vases held branches and white flowers. The stage was a swirl of fabric and more floor vases and flowers, hiding the disk jockey, and a few people were already on the floor slow-dancing to music that seemed to float at her from all directions-Nat King Cole and his daughter, Natalie, crooning ”Unforgettable.”

Like this night would be for her sister, she hoped. Samantha had just donned her mask, a black-and-gold carnival mask Cecily had found for her in L.A. that let her hazel eyes peer out mysteriously. And she was grinning from ear to ear.

Samantha had worked so hard to make this weekend happen she deserved to savor the moment of success. Cecily couldn't shake the nasty feeling that the festival wasn't going to save them but she wasn't about to mention that to her sister. There was no sense in depressing her. She was out of fingernails to chew.

Bailey put on her mask and immediately skittered off to see an old friend and Samantha got waylaid by Ed York (hard to mistake that tall, skinny bod), so Cecily was left on her own to wander the edges of the hall, taking in the sights and sounds. For the next half hour she watched as eager dancers flooded in the door. How many tickets had they sold? Were they going to have more people in here than the room could hold? If they did, she hoped Fire Chief Berg didn't notice. He'd purchased a ticket so he was probably here somewhere.

Now the music had picked up to something a little faster, ”Somebody Like You” by Keith Urban. Bill Will came up to her, all duded up in a cowboy s.h.i.+rt with pearl b.u.t.tons and his best black jeans. He'd exchanged his cowboy hat for some goofy evil court-jester mask with a skull for a face.

”How about a dance?” he asked.

She barely had time to say, ”Sure,” before he swept her off into a fast country two-step.

What he lacked in grace, Bill Will made up for in enthusiasm, nearly taking out any dancers who happened to be in his path as they made their way around the floor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Then he stepped on her gown and she felt a rip. This really hadn't been a good idea.

”s.h.i.+t,” he muttered. ”Gosh, I'm sorry, Cec-I mean, mystery lady. d.a.m.n.”

She patted his arm. ”It's okay, Mr. Jester. It could happen to anyone.”

”Not to me. But hey, I'm used to dancing with girls wearing shorter dresses.”

She just bet he was. ”I think I've got a safety pin in my purse.” Thankfully, she'd come prepared.

He nodded, making the pointed ends of his jester mask bob like big puppy ears, and she left him, probably with a beet-red face. There was another advantage of a masked ball. No one could see your embarra.s.sment.

She managed to repair the gown with a couple of safety pins and went back to the perimeter of the party. It was safer to watch. Just as Bryan Adams began singing ”When You Love Someone,” she became aware of a large man in a Phantom of the Operastyle mask approaching. Luke.

”How's the dress?” he asked.

”Have you been watching me?” she teased.

”Busted. It's a slow dance. I promise not to make the rip bigger.”

He held out a hand. It would have been rude not to take it so she did and let him lead her onto the floor. He put an arm around her, drew her gently to him and started them swaying. She felt the needle move on the zing-o-meter. Well, dancing this close to a hard male body, she'd have to be dead not to feel anything.

”You know, you're enough to take away a man's breath,” he said.

”Luke, I'm not here looking for anything. After the festival...” What? She'd be gone. There wasn't anything here for her.

He smiled. He had a nice smile. ”I wasn't looking for anything when I met my wife.”

Oh, boy. She didn't like the way this conversation was going. ”You're a nice man, Luke.”

”So, I've been told. You looking for a bad boy, Cecily, is that it?”

”I told you, I'm not looking for anything.”

He rubbed a hand up her back, sending a slow warmth pouring through her. ”Does that mean you're not open to stumbling onto something good?”

”I...” Why was her mouth suddenly dry? ”We wouldn't be a match.”

He nodded slowly. ”You know about those things, of course.”

”I do,” she said defensively.

”Tell you what. Let's make a deal. I won't push you but if you decide to stick around, you give me a chance to change your mind. Fair enough?”

”Not fair to you.”

”I can deal with it,” he said easily.

He pulled her just the slightest bit closer, making her very conscious of the fact that he was a male and she was a female. Then he put them into a slow spin and she was aware of her gown flaring out, of a strong arm around her, keeping her from falling backward, of the glimmer of candlelight and the soft wash of a love song. And a little voice whispered, You could come home to stay.

Samantha saw him moving toward her from clear across the room. He wore a black tux and a Venetian mask that covered his whole face. Of course, there was no disguising that big, football-player body. He didn't look like a banker as he walked toward her-more like James Bond on steroids-and the sequins in the mask glinted in the candlelight. She didn't want to dance with him. Yes, she did. No, she didn't.

You have to be polite, she told herself, settling the issue, so she stood there and tried to calm the ridiculous fluttering in her chest. ”h.e.l.lo, Blake,” she greeted him.

He shook his head. ”This is a masked ball, remember? n.o.body knows anybody. I'm just a man who wants to dance with the most beautiful woman here.”

Garth Brooks started crooning ”To Make You Feel My Love” and before she could say anything more, Blake had hooked an arm around her and pulled her against him, turning her insides to lava. Some things are better than chocolate. Oh, jeez.

Keep your mind on business. ”The ball is a great success.”

”I don't want to talk about the ball,” he said, his voice low. ”I don't want to talk about anything. I just want to feel you.”

She could certainly feel him and he felt good, all muscle and male energy. She was going to go limp and slide down into a puddle here on the floor. Get a grip, Samantha.

That wasn't hard to do when she remembered the position she was in with the bank. ”Nicely said, considering the fact that you're about to put me out of business.”

”I'm not your enemy, Samantha, no matter what you think.”

She looked up at him. ”Really? You could have fooled me.”