I should've known better. I should've stuck to my original plan to only stay for the wedding. But no, I'd made the mistake of thinking with the wrong head, and now neither of us was happy.

The reception was in full swing. Dinner had been served, toasts had been made, and the first dance as husband and wife was over after many “oohs” and “ahhs.” I sat at a table playing with the stem of my empty wine glass, wishing for something stronger, or better yet, an opportunity to get out of here.

I was surrounded by family including my mom and her sister's children: Aunt Julie, Uncle Dave, and my cousins' wives or dates whose other halves were at the head table as groomsmen. Their sudden squeals competed with rapid hand gestures as they shared the latest gossip or whatever the hell women talked about with such animation. Phrases like “no, she didn't” were only outnumbered by “and then she” in a match that would make a tennis coach proud at how well they were volleyed back and forth. Whoever she was, she provided plenty of amusing fodder for my cousins-in-law, and I imagined if I wasn't there, I might become the “he” of a similar conversation.

However, it was obvious my mom was enjoying herself. I didn't want to be the cause of disappointment by leaving. So, I sat in silence, plastering on a smile to camouflage my sour mood. Perhaps I wasn't doing as good a job at masking my feelings as I thought, though, because a few unattached women who started toward my table with large “come hither” eyes veered at the last minute. They still glanced over their shoulders as if they hoped I would come after them.

Guess again, girls. I don't play chase.

When a more daring woman approached and asked me to dance, I was desperate enough to escape from the table that I accepted. She was a good dancer, but I suspected it was different moves she had in mind for later. She rubbed her not-so-hidden breasts against my chest and played with my hair.

For a few seconds, I thought about finding a hidden closet and taking her up on what she was so obviously offering, but I wasn't willing to give her any ideas that this venue promoted. Then, as we circled the room, I saw the nameless maid-of-honor dancing with my cousin, Paul. The woman in my arms suddenly felt cheap and distasteful by comparison.

"I'm sorry," I said, disentangling myself from her. I tapped my knee. "Old injury. I need to go sit." I guided her to the edge of the dance floor.

"Oh, you poor thing. I can rub—"

"Maybe another time." I turned and escaped through a group of dancers back to my table.

I scanned for Maggie's friend, but she was in the arms of some other man. I'd wanted to ask my aunt her name, but I knew that would only launch a well-meaning but unwanted inquisition about my interest and her oh-by-the-way-you're-still-single-aren't-you matchmaking efforts.

I'd caught my mystery woman sneaking glances at me throughout dinner. I hated that each of my cousins got to twirl her around the dance floor. I'd wanted to ask her, to see if she felt as good in my arms as I suspected she would, but I couldn't escape my uncle's questions about the local economy and building boom without being rude. Now she was constantly surrounded by men all but tripping over themselves vying for her recognition.

I observed as she danced and laughed in the arms of other men, none of whom looked smart or smooth or in any way good enough to be in her shadow much less holding both her body and her attention. Despite the distance, I could tell her smile was captivating. Her movements were graceful, even when it was obvious her feet were being sorely abused by the clods who had all the grace of a buffalo stuck in a mud patch.

I grew increasingly frustrated. Watching her charm everyone forced me to realize she was the kind of girl who wouldn't settle for a fling. Her smile wasn't calculating, nor was she a shameless flirt like the woman I danced with earlier. No. She was someone who'd want the white picket fence, two-point-five kids, and to be part of the PTA. I could offer her jewelry, nights out, and countless orgasms, but not that.

It all grew to be too much. After whispering in my mother's ear that I would be back, I escaped through the double doors at the back of the room and into the lobby of the large hotel that was catering the reception. Wandering a few twists and turns, I found myself in an atrium full of potted trees, plants, and flowers spread between rock enclosed gardens. A small waterfall in the middle of the room flowed into what was supposed to look like a babbling brook, ending in a small pond several yards away.

I chose a bench hidden behind a large stone planter that doubled as a divider between me and another bench. It was overflowing with huge greenery, providing the privacy I sought. Leaning against the arm, I stretched out my legs and closed my eyes. I breathed deeply, my shoulders slowly relaxing as I allowed the peace to soothe my mood.

It didn't last long. It only felt like a few minutes before I noticed the sharp clacking of heels on the stone floor.

Please don't stop. All but growling, I slunk down further on the seat.

"Grace?" A male voice called from a distance. The leaves above me stirred, and I heard the sound of wood scraping against stone on the other side of my hiding spot.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," a feminine voice muttered. "Take the hint, will you?”

My eyes flew open. Even whispered, my intruder sounded desperate.

I nearly rolled off my bench when I saw her through the foliage, slowly creeping backward around the planter toward me.

I sat up. "Hiding from someone?"

Although I'd kept my voice low, my question had the most extraordinary reaction. She whipped around, but her heel caught in one of the flagstones, causing her to flail and trip toward me. I managed to catch her around the waist as we both fell back on the bench. My head cracked against the arm.

Fuck, that hurt!

But my discomfort was short-lived as I realized she was perfectly aligned on top of me. Her neckline gaped as she lifted her head, giving me a glimpse at her creamy breasts that pressed against my chest. My hands instinctively grasped her hips, and I had to fight the desire to pull them tighter into mine. My dick was more than willing to rise to the occasion, however, so I held her just out of reach of him.

"Grace?"

I started to ask about her stalker, but she slapped her hand across my mouth and shook her head, her eyes desperate.

So, I'm not the only one escaping.

I nodded my head slightly, and she removed her hand a few centimeters. The footsteps drew closer. Her body grew tense.

Ah, hell. I decided to intervene.

Before she could blink, I had my hand around the back of her head, pulling it to me. I lifted my head the short distance needed to make our lips meet.

"Oh, wow. I, uh...sorry."

The blubbering jumble of words and quickly retreating footsteps barely registered as I tasted my mystery woman, now known as Grace, for the first time. I'd only meant for it to be a meeting of the lips, a little soft flesh on flesh to chase off her wannabe pursuer. But one small touch and I longed to linger. Her body felt warm and pliant as she hovered above me as our mouths continued to caress each other's.

It was far from the most smoldering kiss I'd ever shared, but it was filled with the warmth of something new and tentative that begged to be explored. Savored. A little moan rumbled in her throat, and I was going to accept it as a signal to take our kiss to the next level, but the sharp click of a door shutting in the distance cut short my plan.

Her eyes flickered open to meet mine. They registered the same shock and confusion I felt. I'd never been moved by only a kiss before.

I only had about three seconds to appreciate how she felt every bit as scrumptious in my arms as I thought she might. Because just as I was about to speak, she started scrambling to lift herself from me. Her palms heaved against my chest while her knee drew forward for leverage. She missed her mark. Instead, it landed right in my crotch. Hard. I saw stars.

There was no way I could stop the tears that filled my eyes as my balls desperately sought refuge inside my body. I curled into a fetal position and somehow managed not to fall on the floor. I wasn't as sure I wouldn't throw up.

Talk about a mood killer.

"Oh, my gosh! I'm sorry!" It sounded like she was tap dancing near my head. "What can I do? Ice? Massage? Wait, I mean, not that. Of course, not. I don't know why I said that. That would be seriously inappropriate." She continued to pace while I sucked in gasps of air.

The nausea receded enough that I croaked, "Give me a minute. I'll be all right." I was impressed the words came out without being an octave higher than normal.

Her weight settled on the bench near my feet. "I am sorry. First, you scared the crap out of me, and then, you, uh, startled me again."

"Yeah, for a few minutes just now, I thought crap was going to come out of me, too. Literally." Testing my ability to move, I slowly sat up. "It's okay. It was an accident."

She covered her mouth, but it didn't stifle her giggle. "I'm sorry." Her words were muffled. "That's a completely inappropriate response. I have no idea why I did that." She dropped her hand into her lap. "This is a little awkward, isn't it? But at least there were no witnesses to your inabilities."

"My what?" I stared at her.

"You know, your inability to catch me, how you let me fall on you instead. If you had better reflexes, we wouldn't be here in this little situation, would we?"

I was about to give her an earful about being accountable for her knee when I noticed the sparkle in her blue eyes and the twitch of her lip.

"You're laughing at me? Are you a sadist?"

I could almost breathe normally again. Despite the painful introduction, I was charmed by her. Most of the women I'd encountered would have either run off screaming in embarrassment or offering to perform CPR on my dick.

She bit her lip. "I was hoping it would make you smile. My mom always says laughter is the best medicine."

"She may be right. But didn't your mom ever kiss your boo-boos?"

"Well, sure, but..." She twisted her lips, and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

I managed a laugh. "Sorry. I thought I deserved to get in one good shot."

Damn, she was gorgeous with her face lit up with a combination of amusement and embarrassment. I glanced back at the path she'd taken. "So, you were trying to escape from someone?"

"More than you might think," she mumbled. She shifted in her seat to face me. "I guess I should thank you for scaring him off, although your methods were a bit unorthodox."

I offered her a noncommittal grunt.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

"I think I might like to know a lot of things about you," I admitted to her.

Her smile was beautiful. She propped her elbow on the back of the bench and rested her head on her palm. "I love weddings and seeing people commit their lives to each other. But the receptions. Ugh. I mean, sure, there should be a party afterward to celebrate. But," she sighed dramatically, "sometimes it feels like a meat fest."

She was telling me? "How so?"

She shrugged. "Oh, it never ends. I think every single man here has tried to hit on me, and if it's not them, it's their mother pointing out every attribute their son has in the hopes of a match. I was trying to escape a particularly enthusiastic subject, and let’s just say there’s a reason he’s single." She rolled her eyes, then moved them back to send a piercing look at me. "Oh, and there's always at least one guy who thinks he can score a quickie in the back room with a woman caught up in the romance of a wedding—or maybe in a quiet arboretum." One of her eyebrows arched as she looked at me.

I pretended not to catch on to her accusation. Of course, she'd been pretty accurate in her assessment, which I both hated and admired.

She slid closer to me. "They're not wrong, though. Weddings can be wonderful places to meet someone and start a relationship. Who knows where this will lead?" Her head tilted, and her eyes got that dewy look that happens when women get caught up in some romantic idea.

My nerves tightened, especially with her next words.

"We've already kissed. I mean, you felt that connection, right? Maybe we'll be here again next year as the bride and groom." She patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. Daddy has a lot of connections and will make sure it happens."

She wrapped her hand around my arm and nestled her head against my shoulder while my tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth.

"How many kids do you think you'd like to have? I've always wanted four, I think. Even numbers work best. What do you think of the name Abigail for a girl?"

Whoa! I don't think my body could be any stiffer if I were a corpse frozen in a block of ice. I was trying to figure out how to remove myself when she sprung up and burst out laughing.

"Oh, you should see your face! You look like someone just told you that you only have twelve hours left to live. I'm kidding! Consider that payback for the lectures I'm going to have to listen to from my dad when word gets out that someone was kissing me clandestinely, and trust me, word will get out. It always does. And I've been warned you don't do relationships, so that means that fun tidbit will also reach his ears."

I was still breathing hard from the little joke she'd pulled on me. I also couldn't remember the last time someone teased me, and this made twice in a brief period. Most people sensed better than to fuck with me.

Apparently, she wasn't most people. I couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

I managed a weak chuckle. "Yeah, well, it worked. I'm sorry if my questionable methods caused you trouble."

She shrugged. "Won't be the first time."

I was curious by her statement, but I knew it was better not to show too much interest. "You never lacked for a dance partner back there.” I tipped my head toward the exit. Too late I realized I tipped her off that I was watching her. I hurriedly added, “Did no one catch your attention?"

She blew out a long breath. "Oh, it was caught, all right. By several men in fact."

I wasn't ready to let her go. Her voice was pleasant and innocently seductive, however the hell she managed that combination.

"Sounds like a story there," I prompted.

She looked sideways at me. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Consider me all ears."

She kicked off her shoes, and for just a few seconds I saw the soft flesh of her thighs as she curled her feet beneath her dress. Despite his abuse earlier, my cock was interested in coming out to play again.

"Well, where should I start? Bill, age thirty-one, seemed like a good guy—decent job, reasonably nice looking and dressed professionally. Then I learned that his mother still lays out his clothes for him every day after she cooks and washes and irons everything for him."

I chuckled. "A mama's boy, looking for a younger version to take care of him."

"Exactly! I thought things were going to pick up when Mrs. Claussen wanted to introduce me to her grandson, Mark. He's a baseball player. I love baseball, so I allowed myself to get my hopes up. It turns out Mark is about two inches shorter than I am." She grimaced. "I mean, I know he can't help his size, and I hate to hold that against him, but at the end of the day, I'd rather lay my head on a guy's chest then the other way around." She glanced down at her dress and pulled at the material covering her chest. "When he drooled on me, that was it. I was done."

I stared where her fingers were. Sure enough, there was a darker spot on the inner curve of her left breast where it strained against the material. I squirmed again, thinking of how I'd like to be the one who got to put his mouth near her tits.

"And do you know what position he plays?"

Position? I can imagine myself in all kinds of positions with you, doll. I caught her staring at me, waiting. Oh, yeah. Baseball.

"Shortstop?" I offered, grasping for the first word that popped into my head, desperately trying to recall baseball stats in my head to calm my reaction to her.

"Yes! How cliché can it get?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

"But the best of all was Martin, who is very musically talented. It seems he's a master accordion player."

She glared at me when I snorted. "Oh, it gets better. He said, and I quote, 'how lucky I was to be with him because he knew how to press all my buttons while he pumped my bellows.'" She shuddered.

A sharp burst of laughter escaped me. If he thought that would get him laid, he must be a total dumbass.

It was unusual for me to spend this much time listening to a woman talk, especially about herself. I enjoyed Grace’s banter, though. It was a refreshing change from women who talked about trivial things that were only of interest to them. Not only was I caught up in her amusing antidotes, but I also couldn't stop staring at her. Despite the woefulness of her dating adventures, her eyes sparkled telling me that underneath it all, she still saw the humor in it. I came to a few immediate conclusions: she was more beautiful than I'd first thought, she made me laugh, not something that often happened in my world, and I hadn't thought about work in the past several minutes. It took me a few seconds to realize she was still talking to me.

"I'm truly sorry about earlier. I was trying to escape Bellows Boy."

"I'm completely recovered. But I think you owe me."

"Oh. I guess that depends on what you have in mind."

I couldn't not touch her anymore. I pulled on a curl that fell in front of her ear, allowing my fingers to brush her cheek. It was as soft and smooth as it looked. "A dance?"

There was an awkward moment of silence while she seemed to assess something about me. She slipped her feet back out from her dress.

"I'd like that."

I swept down and scooped up her shoes. I squatted in front of her, slipping the painful looking satin material atop three-inch spikes onto her feet.

"Like Cinderella," she whispered.

"I assure you, I'm no prince," I answered darkly, wrapping my hand around her delicate ankle. I stood and offered my hand. When she hesitated, I leaned closer and winked at her. "But I promise I won't drool on you."

I moved my eyes to her curves and back again. Her cheeks flushed, but she placed her hand in mine and allowed me to help her stand. I didn't release her hand, and she didn't pull away. I breathed in her soft, sweet scent and fought the impulse to bring her tight against me. Standing in her heels, she was still a couple of inches shorter than me. I continued my thoughts as I leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "If my mouth was anywhere near your breasts, I guarantee they'd be too full of them to drool."

"Oh," she gasped, her jaw working up and down before closing altogether. "That's..."

Her breathing grew short and uneven, and her long fingers trembled in my hand. Her other hand landed on the lapel of my suit jacket as she swayed toward me. Long lashes blinked over dark blue eyes as she stared into mine. It seemed she finally had run out of things to say.

When she leaned into me, I put my arm around her waist to hold her there. Fuck, she felt so...so right in my arms. I curled my fingers and brushed the back of them along her cheek. Her eyes flickered over mine, and her lips parted.

"Why didn't you ask me to dance?" she whispered. Her eyes dropped to stare at my chest as she shook her head as if trying to shake off a trance. "Earlier I mean."

I tipped her head back up with my finger. "I wanted to." I was unable to look away. "I should have." But even I can tell you deserve better than me.

Her eyes hazed over with a look I recognized. She was feeling the pull, too.

Just one more taste, I told myself.

My head lowered. She made no effort to move away, so I continued. Our eyes remained on each other's until I could feel her warm breath against my lips. I paused, one last chance for her to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed, and her head tilted to meet mine.

Our lips met, brushing each other's with the gentleness of a butterfly's caress. Once, twice, before I captured them, wanting more of her sweetness. She was tentative, maybe a bit unpracticed. But she was an eager learner. When I dragged my tongue along her lower lip, she reciprocated with my upper lip. When I bit the succulent flesh, she opened and invited me into the minty sweetness of her mouth. Her response was generous, sweet, and erotic in its own right because her responses were honest and unselfish.

Our tongues danced and teased while our bodies drew closer. It was only meant to be a taste, a sample to be tried and then moved on from. Instead, I found I didn't want to stop, like trying to assuage an unquenchable thirst.

I'd kissed many women. I'd always enjoyed the experience, but I’d never it craved it beyond a buildup toward sex. Usually, I was ready to move on to tasting other parts of a woman's body.

Now, I'd only touched Grace's lips, and already I knew this was different. Better. More; like a place where I could get lost and ignore the world. And if that happened with only a kiss, I couldn't fathom having every last bit of her. Knowing that would never happen, I decided to enjoy the moment, to prolong the peace I found in her arms, forgetting the time and place where we were. Until...

"Grace! Are you in here?"

A male voice broke through my lustful haze. I wanted to ignore it, but the woman in my arms froze. She wrenched her mouth from mine, her eyes going from half closed with lust to wide open with alarm.

"Grace?"

"Oh, crap." She retreated several steps, smoothing down her dress and patting her hair with trembling hands. She drew a deep breath and turned away just as a man dressed in solid black except a white tab tucked into his collar across his throat came around the corner. I recognized the pastor from the wedding ceremony. Funny, I'd originally pictured him as a Friar Tuck type only with more hair. But now that he stood before me minus his shapeless robes, I could see he was broad-shouldered and appeared surprisingly fit for an older man. And he didn't look happy to see me standing so close to his parishioner.

Yeah, I've having sinful thoughts of one of your flock.

"Grace, we didn't know what happened to you. Everything okay?" He wrapped his arm around my companion's shoulders and pulled her further out of my reach, never removing his eyes from me.

"I'm fine." She stretched up to place a kiss on his cheek. He looked down at her and smiled.

Huh. Must be a close congregation.

"Are you coming back?" Suspicious dark eyes shifted toward me before settling back on her.

"I'll be there in a minute."

He remained motionless.

"It's fine, Daddy. I'll be there in a few minutes."

I did a double take. What the hell did she say? He was her father? And not in the church role understanding, but in the flesh and blood incarnate meaning?

Fuck me.

If I'd ever doubted God had a sense of humor, I had my answer.