AN ODD BLEND of nerves and excitement swirled inside Shari to the same rhythm that her purple silky hem swirled around her legs as she shifted in front of the dressing mirror in her bedroom. Sun spilled into her window. It looked as though B.J. was going to have a beautiful day for her wedding. After a month of hard work Shari was ready to face the day. In fact, she ought to thank B.J. If it hadn’t been for her, Shari wouldn’t have ended up becoming intimate with Luke, and she couldn’t imagine now what it would be like not to have him in her life.

She twirled once more in front of the mirror. The bold purple dress was perfect. One of those bland pastels would have made her feel like a woman trying to fit in with the rest of the crowd. The woman in the mirror set her own style, with the bright dress, strappy sandals and colorful shawl. She’d styled her hair in long, loose curls and put extra effort into her makeup. All that working out had given her tighter muscles but also a glow of health. She looked her best and knew it.

When her doorbell rang, she was ready even though Luke was a couple of minutes early.

She opened the door and nearly fell over. She wasn’t the only one who’d gone to extra effort with their appearance. Luke wore a summer-weight gray suit that had “designer” written all over it, but discreetly—in small letters. Under it he wore a crisp white shirt saved from being dull by a tie patterned in crayon-colored zigzags.

He’d had his hair cut and styled; he was clean-shaven. She thought he looked gorgeous when he was slopping around in jeans and two-day stubble. Dressed up he made her tongue hang out. “I thought you were wearing a tux.”

“Too hot. Besides, they might make a mistake and accidentally marry me to B.J.”

“I like the tie.” Secretly she thought he couldn’t look better in a tuxedo.

“Thanks.” He stepped closer and every neuron in her body snapped to attention. How did he do that to her so effortlessly? “You look so good in that dress, all I want to do is take it off.”

She giggled and stepped back. “Play your cards right and maybe later you’ll get a chance.”

The look he sent her said there’d be no chance about it. “I got you something,” he said and, digging into his pocket pulled out a small square box wrapped in silver paper.

Her brows rose as she took it. She tore off the wrapping and opened the white box with the name of a Belltown jeweler stamped on the front in gold. Inside was a silver necklace with square tiles in a flowing mosaic of purple, red and yellow, and earrings to match.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous!” she cried, her hand flying to her bare throat. She hadn’t been able to find jewelry to match her dress and wrap, but this set was perfect. She held them against the shawl and the color match was almost uncanny.

“Wherever did you find them?”

“A jeweler I know.”

She removed the silver drop earrings she was wearing, and put on the new ones. Then she held out the necklace to Luke.

He stepped behind her. “Lift your hair.” His voice was soft and sensuous, whispering against her hair. Her skin prickled as she complied, her own curls feeling sensuous as they tumbled over her hands and wrists. He fastened the clasp and his fingertips brushed the back of her neck, making her shiver. Before she dropped her hair he placed a quick kiss on her nape.

She almost danced to her bedroom to check out the new jewelry in the mirror. She struck a pose with the shawl, and suddenly remembered how she’d left the bag with her dress and shawl in his car overnight when they’d been in such a hurry to get to chapter seven.

She hadn’t retrieved them until the following afternoon. He must have taken the shawl with him to search for… Her fingers rose to her throat to touch the cheerful links, again noting they weren’t merely a close match to the colors in the shawl, but an exact match. Had he had the pieces specially made?

It was such a sweet, thoughtful gesture, and the fact that he wasn’t boasting about his thoughtfulness made it all the sweeter.

He was, she was beginning to think, a keeper. Now she simply had to get him believing it.

“These are so perfect,” she said as she waltzed back out of her bedroom. “Thanks.” And she kissed him until her own toes curled.

“Well? Are you ready to face B.J. and friends?” she asked.

“One devoted love slave coming up,” he said, and held out his hand for hers.

As they drove to the wedding she said, “I liked your feature in the weekend paper, by the way.” She’d read it this morning with her breakfast and chuckled all the way through, imagining Luke on assignment.

He groaned. “I never, ever thought I’d write an article that included the benefits of breast milk. Hell, I never wanted to know what Montgomery’s Tubules were. Now I’ll never look at a breast in the same way.”

She laughed.

“No, really. I’m serious. Let’s pull over and I’ll show you. Your naked breasts will inspire nothing but a learned opinion on their perfection as ‘receptacles of nourishment,’” he said, quoting his article.

“How did you end up doing it?” It wasn’t at all his usual type of article, though she had to hand it to him, he’d done a pretty good job of getting the breast-feeding club’s points across, without sounding like a guy. He’d written about everything from the natural antibodies in breast milk to inverted nipples, and managed to do it with a certain dignity. But she couldn’t imagine why the paper hadn’t assigned a woman for the job.

“The truth is kind of embarrassing.”

“Luke, you fainted at the sight of my naked body. I think we’re beyond embarrassing.”

He sighed. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, the two are sort of related.”

She bit her lip and turned to him. “You didn’t faint at the breast-feeding meeting?”

“Pass out. And, no. I didn’t. I agreed to do that article in exchange for taking your class on a tour of the paper.”

She opened her mouth and then couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her lips formed a silent O.

“I was sure you were going to dump me on my sorry ass after I had that little blood sugar episode. It was lame and pathetic, but that school tour was my best shot at keeping you still speaking to me.”

She didn’t say a word and he shot her a mocking expression. “Well? Am I right?”

She nodded. “Luke?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m glad you did the breast-feeding article. And the kids are so excited about touring your paper they’re working really hard on their articles, hoping they get a chance to be in print. You did a great job with them.”

“It was fun.”

She couldn’t believe how close she’d come to pulling the plug on their own deal. She’d have missed getting to know Luke better and, worst of all, she’d have missed becoming intimate with him. Maybe their lovemaking wasn’t as technically smooth as it would ultimately be, but they were avid students of that silly book of Luke’s. It was getting to the point where the sight of that garish red-and-black cover made her wet. And, advanced technique was great, but there was a lot to be said for raw enthusiasm, which was overflowing in Luke.

“I’m glad, too,” he said at last.

Since Luke was a good driver and she was a good navigator, they got to the church in plenty of time.

She’d wondered how she’d feel when she saw B.J. again. It had been three or four years since Shari had seen her, and more like five since she’d seen Randy.

When she saw her college boyfriend waiting at the top of the aisle, she wondered why her heart had been broken over him. He was all right, but nothing special. Then the music started and they all rose. After the parade of bridesmaids, B.J. walked slowly toward him in a wedding gown right out of Martha Stewart Weddings.

Shari didn’t feel the anguish and hurt she’d expected the day would resurrect; she suddenly saw B.J. as the scrawny twelve-year-old she’d been when they first met. Then she had flashes of them as friends in high school and as dorm mates in college. She wasn’t going to pretend that it hadn’t hurt to have a close friend and her boyfriend abandon her for each other, but the fact they were still together and getting married mitigated the severity of their crime. Somewhat.

Walt Whitman must have really done a number on them, for they were clearly in love with each other. How wonderful it must be to get married to the man you knew was your forever guy.

She reached for Luke’s hand simply because she wanted to feel the warmth and weight of his hand in hers.

The necklace he’d bought her lay smooth against her throat. He wasn’t the kind of man who was so busy climbing a corporate ladder he didn’t have time for the people he cared about in his life.

Quite the opposite, in fact. He obviously worked hard and had enough drive and self-discipline to write a novel, but he also took time out to smell the roses. And send roses, she mused, remembering her surprise when she’d first received them. Since they’d become lovers he was always showing up with flowers.

And he’d put a lot of thought and care into choosing or, more likely, having designed, the jewelry she was wearing today.

Maybe it was attending a wedding ceremony that was making her mushy, but she suddenly saw Luke as the kind of man she could marry. He’d be great with kids, too, she realized, recalling how good he’d been with the teens in her class.

The blond-oak pews creaked in unison as the wedding guests resumed their seats once the bride reached the groom.

Shari sat there, surprisingly moved to watch two old friends getting married. A lot of her residual humiliation evaporated as it finally occurred to her that they really did love each other. At least she hadn’t been dumped for a two-week fling.

Luke kept her hand in his, and she remained aware of the constant warm connection between them as the ancient words of the marriage ceremony echoed in the church.

One day it would be her turn and, as her gaze dropped instinctively to their linked hands, she realized that it was Luke she wanted to marry.

Her eyes widened in shock as the truth hit her. If she wanted to marry him then she must be…she must be… Oh, Lord. She was in love with him.

The knowledge made her feel warm all over.

Tears trembled on her lashes and spilled over during the marriage ceremony. They were tears of happiness, but not for B.J. and Randy. They were for herself. She was in love. And she’d found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Once they got to the reception at a snooty country club, Luke kept his part of their original bargain. “You do a great job pretending to be my devoted love slave,” she told him laughingly as he brought her a glass of champagne and kissed her hand.

His eyes laughed right back at her, but his words were seriously sexual. “I am your devoted love slave.”

Her breath caught as he cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly, murmuring, “I’ll prove it when we get home.”

Whether it was his teasing words that put her on simmer or her newfound knowledge that she’d fallen in love with him, she didn’t know, but desire bubbled constantly as she chatted with old friends and introduced Luke to them.

With smug pride, she noted that he was quite a hit. And as a love slave he wasn’t bad, either. Throughout dinner, he took every possible opportunity to touch her, whether with a nudge of his knee under the table or a caressing finger down her cheek or his arm thrown seemingly carelessly along the back of her chair so his fingers just touched her bare shoulder.

She knew it was deliberate. She knew it was extended foreplay. She suspected it came straight out of that damn book of his. It didn’t matter; he was driving her absolutely wild with lust.

She hoped he’d had a recent physical, for she was planning to retaliate when they returned home, and he’d need all his strength to keep up with her.

After the speeches, which she barely heard over the sound of her own blood roaring in her ears, they watched B.J. and Randy enjoy their first dance as a married couple.

“I can’t believe you broke your heart over that guy,” Luke said.

“What can I say? I was young and foolish.” She turned to Luke and patted his cheek. “I have much better taste now.”

“Let’s dance,” he said when the floor was opened to everyone.

She melted against him and found he danced with the easy athletic grace he did most things. She moved with him instinctively, and she imagined anyone watching them would immediately know they were lovers.

It was heaven to be with him, to smell his scent when she laid her cheek on his shoulder, to know that soon she’d be in his arms making love.

As though he’d read her thoughts, he said, “We’re getting out of here.”

“But we can’t. It would be rude to leave before the bride and groom.”

“Consider it payback time for Leaves of Grass.”

“I don’t think—”

“I need to be inside you. Badly.”

A tiny, helpless moan was surprised out of her. What were social manners when set against this kind of burning, physical need? “I’ll pretend I’m going to the washroom. You head for the bar, and we’ll meet at the car.”

“Got it.”

They snuck out of the country club parking lot like a pair of criminals.

“Do you think they’ll notice we snuck out?”

“Do you care?”

If her choice was between socializing with people she hadn’t seen in years or making love with Luke, there was really no contest.

She replied by leaning across the seat and tracing the curve of his ear with her tongue. “No. I really don’t care.”

“Pass me my phone,” he said urgently.

“Why?”

“Need my GPS. There must be a shortcut to get home.”