Whirlwind (13 page)

“Her color is returning,” he said to Linda. “Just take it easy for a few minutes, Melissa.” He was still serious, but his tone struck me. It carried more than just friendly concern; it was filled with obvious affection. I glanced at Linda, wondering if she’d heard it too.

She didn’t react but continued to peer at me. I gave her a reassuring nod, my episode hopefully over.

“It’s awfully convenient having your own personal physician around, isn’t it?” she teased.

“You’re not helping,” I said under my breath.

Chase appeared behind her, saving me for the second time this evening. “If you’re done eating, want to dance?” As he spoke, the music started and Linda’s eyes lit up. They skipped away with a chorus of “See you later!”

Ignoring the screaming guitars, Jason continued to observe me out of the corner of his eye. I, in turn, watched him eat the cake, listening to so-called “Naughty Melissa” rattle off the play-by-play in my head.

With delicate precision, his elegant fingers angled the fork sideways and cut a perfectly square bite. He balanced the piece on the tines and raised it to his mouth, his rosy lips parting to receive the sugar-coated cake. His hand froze in midair and his mouth closed, then opened again.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” he asked. He held the fork out, offering me the bite. “You look hungry.”

“What? Uh, no…” I stammered, realizing too late that my mouth had mimicked his, like a mother feeding her baby. “I…uh…prefer chocolate.”

Forget the cake. It’s you I want to taste.

Literally biting my tongue, I tried to settle the lumps of embarrassment twisting in my stomach.

Jason may have hidden his smile by pursing his lips, but his eyes betrayed him. I forced my gaze down to the centerpiece.
Tulips. How appropriate
.

“Yup, your color is definitely coming back,” he said, touching my blazing cheek.

I rolled my eyes, and the fork finally made it into his mouth. Trying not to gawk this time, I watched him slide it out between moistened lips.
Lucky fork
.

Jason ate the rest of the cake with the same deliberate care. Each time his eyes flitted to mine I busied myself with my napkin, folding and re-folding it, pretending to ignore him. On the last bite, he moved even more slowly, drawing out the torture even further when he raised the empty fork and licked it like a lollipop. I looked away, fearing I’d turned pale again. What I really wanted was to sample the frosting lingering on his tongue.

Jason’s display of dining technique had turned me into a complete basket case. I knew almost nothing about him, yet his slightest movement made me hyperventilate.
It’s just a physical response
.
I’m lusting after him, that’s all.

The DJ put on a slower song and the lights dimmed. I’d just finished my origami swan when Jason touched my shoulder. “Feeling better now?”

“Uh, yeah.”
You have no idea.

“Come on.” He offered me his hand.

Hoping we were heading back out to the garden, I took his hand, realizing much too late he’d led me to the edge of the dance floor. Terror froze me to the spot.

“Are you trying to give me a coronary—I really don’t dance. I
can’t
dance,” I wailed in his ear.

“That’s Nervous Melissa talking. I bet Naughty Melissa loves to dance,” he coaxed, leading me into the writhing mass of bodies.

My breathing became shallow as I desperately tried to find Naughty Melissa and her boundless confidence. Jason turned to face me, guiding my hand to his shoulder before encircling my waist. I stumbled as he moved against me, slowly pacing out a simple pattern. “Just relax. It’s easy,” he said and began the steps again.

By the third time through I was getting the hang of the dance, mostly by following the sway of Jason’s hips. When I’d completed the set without stepping on his toes, he pulled me even closer, and I felt…happy?

He’s right. I
am
enjoying myself.
How did he know? And in such a short time?

“You do realize you’re smiling,” Jason said in an I-told-you-so tone.

I pinched his earlobe. “I guess you were right. Naughty Melissa decided this is pretty nice.”

His eyes lit up, and he grinned triumphantly. We passed Linda and Chase, who had become statues, watching me. I could feel their dumfounded stares as we glided by, but I was too focused on staying in step with Jason to laugh.

The music changed, and for a moment I panicked, but the next song was another slow one, and I relaxed again.

Jason sensed my momentary lapse into nervousness. “Can you please give me some clues into your seemingly incompatible personalities?” His tone was sincere, not judgmental.

I tried to come up with something coherent while pushing aside the thrill of his lips so close to my face. He placed his cheek against mine as we danced, waiting for my explanation, distracting me again.

My heart rose to my throat as I spoke, but the warmth of his skin against mine encouraged the truth to come out. “Actually, I am the shy, nervous girl—or at least I
was—
until I met you. You seem to bring out very intense feelings in me and”—I took a breath—“the fact that I can’t seem to control them scares me. I’m sorry, I’ve never reacted to anyone this way before.” I buried my head in his chest, completely embarrassed. “I’m a lunatic,” I murmured into his shirt.

“So you’re saying
I
bring out the Naughty Melissa in you?”

I bit my lip, glad my hair had fallen across my face. “I apparently lose my ability to think rationally around you. I’m sorry. I should let you go find someone sane.” Nervous Melissa was making a big comeback.

Before I could move, Jason squeezed me tighter. “No way, and no more apologies. I like this two-for-one Melissa. The packaging is exquisite,” he said, pushing my hair to the side so he could kiss my forehead.

The music changed again, and the crowd around us shifted into a rhythmic bounce, matching the loud bass beat. I stopped dancing and shook my head at the couple next to us grinding their hips together.
Are they dancing or dry-humping each other?

“Even Naughty Melissa doesn’t do that kind of dancing,” I said.

“Maybe later,” Jason said, grinning. “How about another kamikaze?” he asked and stepped out of the crowd near the bar.

“No thanks, but a Diet Coke would be great.” He flagged down the bartender, giving me a view of his watch.
It’s after ten already?

There wasn’t going to be a later, I realized, and let out a long, slow breath. My Cinderella-inspired evening was almost over, and soon I’d have to leave Jason behind. The memory of his lips caressing my skin would make the drive back to Santa Lucia tough. I still couldn’t believe he’d actually done that to
me
.

Fantasy. This is just one big fantasy…and it’s ending very soon.

Jason caught me checking the time, and his eyes immediately narrowed. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that the party is almost over…and then I’ll have to leave,” I said, confused.

“Why?” he demanded.

I gaped at him.
What does he expect to happen after the reception?

“I have to get back and finish emptying out my apartment. If I don’t turn in the key by noon tomorrow, it’ll cost me an extra two hundred bucks. There’s no way I can make it unless I leave tonight.”

Jason pressed his lips together so hard they turned white.

“It’s an easy drive. You don’t have to worry about me,” I added quickly. Mom nagged me about driving at night—wearing a similar expression, actually—but I enjoyed it. No traffic, loud music, and lots of caffeine made for a fast trip.

Still silent, his face contorted again into a grimace.

“What’s wrong, Jason?”

Leaving our drinks behind, he rushed me into a dark corner. “First of all, I
will
worry about you. I won’t have you driving halfway across the state in the middle of the night, alone.”

His uncompromising glare and commanding tone triggered a new response in me: anger. I thrust my chin up at him defiantly. “Don’t tell me what—”

“I’m not finished,” he said, putting his hand over my lips.

My teeth snapped shut, and I backed away, bumping into the wall. He’d trapped me.

Fuming, I shook my face out of his hand and turned away, refusing to look at him. If he was going to treat me like a four-year-old, I might as well act like one. However, as much as I wanted to continue my temper tantrum, a small part of me was rejoicing. The fact he cared so much about my safety fed the Prince Charming fantasy I’d created.

Jason closed the small gap between us, placing his lips tantalizingly close to my ear. “Second, I won’t have you walking out of my life like Cinderella.” He backed away just enough to peer down at my shocked face.

“Cinderella?”
How does he keep reading my thoughts? Does he know all of them?

He flushed, but didn’t shrink away. “I don’t want you to leave, Melissa. I want you to stay. Please stay,” he implored. “Please stay, with me.”

My anger melted under his scorching gaze, leaving me speechless.

Jason continued, becoming more earnest with each word. “You know the effect you have on me, but it’s much more than that. The things that keep flashing through my mind when I look at you—I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt like this before, either.”

My mind reeled as he recited my own thoughts back to me. This couldn’t be happening, not to
me
. I’m not a fairy-tale kind of girl. But I could easily see myself staying with him—
I had seen it
—and for much more than one night. Staring at his shoulder, I tried to make some sense of what I’d just heard.

Jason was nearly panting now, and his words came out in a rush. “Please don’t go, Melissa. Not tonight. Stay here with me. I’ll take care of any inconvenience, I promise. And no expectations, okay? We can talk and laugh, and you can sleep safely alone.
Please
.”

I looked up and lost myself in his eyes, trying to read
his
thoughts. Did he really see himself as my prince, chasing after me into the night? The idea was ridiculous. Yes, we’d found a physical connection, but we’d only shared one kiss. How could he want me so much after such a short time? The depth of the need darkening his features scared me.

My insecurities tried to overwhelm me again, but when I opened my mouth to answer, it wasn’t Nervous Melissa who spoke.

“If I stay, I certainly hope I won’t be sleeping alone.” My hand came up to my mouth with a slap, but I couldn’t take the words back, even if I’d wanted to.