Iris cleared her throat. “Jamie.”
“Iris.” Her name on his lips held a wealth of meaning he couldn’t hold back, though he tried for her sake. “You look amazing.”
She was wearing a silky navy-blue top, his favorite color, especially now that he saw the way it complemented her fair complexion. White slacks hugged her gorgeous legs. She was average height for a woman, but the slight heels she wore made him think she would fit perfectly against him despite the extra inches he held on her. Bring her lips closer to his when she was in his arms. And he definitely wanted her in his arms.
Faint pink color flushed Iris’s cheeks, but maybe that was the influence of the drink in her hand. He didn’t think so with the way the words, “T-thank you,” stuttered off her lips.
It would take a few minutes for the food to arrive, and wouldn’t you know it, a slow song was just starting on the jukebox. He extended his hand to her. “May I have this dance?”
Nine
Iris had felt the air change the minute she caught sight of him. For the briefest second, tears burned at the backs of her eyes—she didn’t want to be this aware of him. Didn’t want whatever this was happening between them to keep happening. And yet she couldn’t deny that it was.
And she had a feeling Jamie wouldn’t let her deny it, even if she could. The man was persistent, she’d give him that.
Blinking back the emotion, she kept a side-eye on him as she attempted to carry on with her conversation. If Scarlett’s smirk was anything to go by, she wasn’t doing a very good job. But really, Jamie would make anyone stutter. The sight of that hard, wide chest in his white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up his sexy forearms, was enough to distract every woman in the room.
Scarlett leaned in. “Arm porn, amiright?”
Lord, was she. Jamie worked hard, that much was obvious, and his arms showed the evidence of just how hard. She could imagine him holding Baby’s lead, keeping her in check, his forearms tight as he mastered the mare.
What she really wanted was for him to master her.
The thought sent a jolt of panic through her.
“Hey, you okay?” Scarlett asked, ever attuned to Iris’s state of being. She was grateful for such an attentive friend at any other time, but right now? She really didn’t want to talk about the thoughts roiling around in her head.
“Sure.”
Scarlett frowned. Guess she hadn’t hidden her true thoughts as well as she’d hoped. She laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’ll be fine, Scarlett. Promise.”
“You better be,” her friend muttered before turning as Jamie joined their group.
Greetings went all the way around until finally, Jamie came to her. Trying hard to ignore the avid gazes of what felt like every pair of eyes in the pub, she met that forest-green, all-too-knowing gaze. “Jamie.”
“Iris.” He swept a look down her body, and her nipples tightened. “You look amazing.”
Damn her tendency to blush, even at her age. She’d done it more around Jamie than she had with anyone in years, a fact that made her even more self-conscious. “T-thank you.”
That slight stutter drew forth his wicked grin. Iris felt that look all the way to her core.
Jamie extended his hand. “May I have this dance?”
She should say no. Being this close to him was tempting enough; being in his arms? Resistance at that point would be futile.
“That sounds great,” Scarlett was saying next to her, the big traitor. She had ahold of Gavin’s hand, and grabbed Scarlett with the other. “Come on!”
She had a feeling Jamie knew exactly what her friend was doing—the amusement lighting his eyes told her that much. Without making a big scene, she couldn’t say no. With Scarlett’s help, he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Exactly where she wanted to be.
Surrendering to the inevitable, she followed Scarlett and Gavin out to the dance floor, intensely aware of Jamie close behind her. Anticipation began a slow fizz in her belly. When Scarlett released her to move into Gavin’s arms, Iris turned slowly toward her partner.
Jamie didn’t hesitate. He scooped her against him, chest to breasts, those strong arms encircling her in a cage that, if she was truly honest with herself, she didn’t want to escape.
Some of her conflict must have shown on her face, because Jamie bent to whisper in her ear, “Am I really that horrible a dancer?”
They’d just begun, so he had to know better. But Iris forced herself to relax against him. It was just a dance, after all, not the gallows.
