“Thank you,” she told him, feeling like a fool as she uttered the words.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?” he asked.

The dreaded question should have panicked her, but she was almost in a trance now and couldn’t help but answer honestly. “Neither. I snuck in with my friend. I can’t find her now.”

His eyes crinkled, though still, there was something restless about him that she couldn’t quite interpret. Something was wrong, but before she could analyze that, the feel of him pressing against her wiped anything other than desire away from her thoughts. Stormy didn’t have a clue who in the world she was right now. She certainly wasn’t this woman dancing with this man.

She’d had sex once before, two years prior with her high school sweetheart. That had been a disaster and she’d never tried it again.

Dancing with this man was making her think maybe another try wouldn’t be so bad. Did that make her an awful person? She didn’t know.

When he stopped moving, she felt her throat close. She wasn’t ready for him to release her. But he pulled back anyway, and where she’d felt his warmth down her entire front, she now felt cold. Then she noticed the music had stopped.

Maybe it was midnight and time for Cinderella to go home.

“Let’s take a walk.”

He began leading her away from the dance floor before she responded. His confidence was overwhelming her, but it didn’t matter. There was no hesitation on her part as joy filled her. Later, she might ask herself why that was, but for now, she was in her dream world.

The sounds of the party began fading as they moved away from the tents and lights and then down a trail.

As he slowly walked next to her, with trees on either side of them and the moonlight barely filtering through, Stormy wondered if she should be afraid. As his hand caressed her lower back, though, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of desire and . . . rightness. Not knowing why it felt right didn’t matter.

She soon found herself on a sandy beach, her shoes dangling from her fingers as she looked out at Puget Sound, the waves splashing gently against the shore. There was very little breeze and the full moon gave everything a soft light.

“This is incredible. I can’t imagine being so lucky as to live here,” she told the man. That’s when she realized she didn’t even know his name. Should she ask him? Or would that break their moment together? She sort of liked the mystery of it all.

“I think Joseph’s place is a little too close to the hustle and bustle of Seattle. But I do love the Sound. It’s a great waterway.”

“Are you here very often?” Was she being nosy now?

“Yes. I don’t live too far away.” He stopped walking and she stood next to him, enjoying the clasp of his fingers in hers. “Sit with me.”

He again didn’t wait for a response, simply led her to a log and then sat down, pulling her to his side as they gazed out at the water. He put an arm around her and the feel of his hard muscles enveloping her gave her both a sense of peace and panic at the same time.

She tried to remember a time she’d ever felt so much agitation at just the mere touch of a man, but she couldn’t think of a single moment. Only this man—only right now.

“I don’t live far away either,” she finally said, the silence too intimate. Should they exchange information? Was that what she wanted? Or what he wanted?

When he was silent for several moments, her brain spun. She began wondering if she was being a fool. This could be simply a case of a man trying to hook up at a wedding. It happened all the time, didn’t it? Did she really want to be that girl the guys laughed about in the morning?

She realized she didn’t actually care what gossip might spur from this.

Maybe she should be more worried. But how often in her life had she done something reckless? Not very often at all. What this man was stirring up inside of her she couldn’t understand and didn’t want to stop feeling.

“Where exactly are you from?” he asked.

The question helped slow her racing heart. “I’ve lived all over the world—in my youth, mostly third world kind of accommodations.”

That had the man silent for a moment. Then he raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You can’t just leave me like that. Go on,” he told her.

“My mom and dad were missionaries until I was about ten, then they worked modest jobs after that,” she began. “I was born in Portland, Oregon, but I lived abroad with my parents for half of my life, then in the Portland area after that. After I turned eighteen, I decided to move to Seattle.”

“Now you have me curious of all the places you’ve been.”

“Gosh, let me think,” she said. “Africa, South America, Asia for a short time, and a few more places.” Noticing she had his undivided attention bolstered her confidence and made her want to keep sharing. It was sort of nice.

“Of all the places you’ve lived, which one was your favorite?” His fingers were playing with her hair, making little flutters in her stomach.

“I can honestly say I’ve loved every place I’ve lived, save maybe a few apartments I’ve had in the city. But of all the places . . .” Stormy looked up at the starry sky to recall the fondness of a distant place in her memory. “I’d have to say it was Kosovo.”

“Kosovo? Where exactly is that? In the Mediterranean somewhere, right?”

“No, it’s not exactly in the Mediterranean, as it’s landlocked on all sides, but it’s right next door to Serbia, Montenegro, and Albania. It’s a fantastic place. Incredibly dangerous at the time, but it was cool,” she began. “I mean, one minute you’d be drinking Turkish coffee at a café and hear a car driving by playing Euro dance pop on the stereo, while the next car to pass would be blasting dance music in Arabic. The country was a collision of Western and Eastern European culture, with distinct flavors from Turkey and the Middle East. Being a Westerner, of course, gave me instant celebrity status, which as a preteen, I didn’t mind so much.”