To her utter amazement, Mr. Serle began to twist vigorously. His dancing was reminiscent of 1960s teen movies she’d seen on TV. With each jerking motion he sank closer to the floor, until he was practically kneeling. After a moment he stopped moving. He hunkered there, one arm stretched forward, one elbow back.
“Mr. Serle, are you all right?”
“Would you mind helping me up? My back seems to have gone out on me.”
Savannah looked frantically around for Nash, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was silently calling him several colorful names for getting her into this predicament. With no other alternative, she bent forward, grabbed the older man’s elbow and pulled him into an upright position.
“Thanks,” he said, with a bright smile. “I got carried away there and forgot I’m practically an old man. Sure felt good. My heart hasn’t beaten this fast in years.”
“Maybe we should sit down,” she suggested, praying he’d agree.
“Not on your life, young lady. I’m only getting started.”
* * *
Nash made his way back to the table, smiling to himself. He hadn’t meant to embarrass Savannah. His original intent had been to rescue her. Taking her onto the dance floor was pure impulse. All night he’d been looking for an excuse to hold her, and he wasn’t about to throw away what might be his only chance.
Beautiful didn’t begin to describe Savannah. When he’d first met her, he’d thought of her as cute. He’d dated women far more attractive than she was. On looks alone, she wasn’t the type that stood out in a crowd. Nor did she have a voluptuous body. She was small, short and proportioned accordingly. If he was looking for long shapely legs and an ample bust, he wouldn’t find either in Savannah. She wasn’t a beauty, and yet she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
That didn’t make a lot of sense. He decided it was because he’d never met anyone quite like Savannah Charles. He didn’t fully understand why she appealed to him so strongly. True, she had a compassionate heart, determination and courage—all qualities he admired.
“Is Arnold out there making a world-class fool of himself?” John Stackhouse asked, when Nash joined the elder of the two senior partners at their table.
“He’s dancing with Savannah.”
John Stackhouse was by far the most dignified and reserved of the two. Both were members of the executive committee, which had the final say on the appointment of the next senior partner. Stackhouse was often the most disapproving of the pair. Over the years, Nash had been at odds with him on more than one occasion. Their views on certain issues invariably clashed. Although he wasn’t particularly fond of the older man, Nash respected him, and considered him fair-minded.
John Stackhouse sipped from his wineglass. “Actually, I’m pleased we have this opportunity to talk,” he said to Nash, arching an eyebrow. “A wedding’s not the place to bring up business, as Arnold correctly pointed out, but I believe now might be a good time for us to talk about the senior partnership.”
Nash’s breath froze in his lungs, and he nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
“You’ve been with the firm a number of years now, and worked hard. We’ve won some valuable cases because of you, and that’s in your favor.”
“Glad to hear that.” So Paul Jefferson didn’t have it sewn up the way he’d assumed.
“I don’t generally offer advice…”
This was true enough. Stackhouse kept his opinions to himself until asked, and it boded well that he was willing to make a few suggestions to Nash. Although he badly wanted the position, Nash still didn’t think he had a chance against Paul. “I’d appreciate any advice you care to give me.”
“Arnold and a couple of the other members of the executive committee were discussing names. Yours was raised almost immediately.”
Nash moved forward, perching on the end of his chair. “What’s the consensus?”
“Off the record.”
“Off the record,” Nash assured him.
“You’re liked and respected, but there’s a problem, a big one as far as the firm’s concerned. The fact is, I’m the one who brought it up, but the others claimed to have noticed it, as well.”
“Yes?” Nash’s mind zoomed over the list of potential areas of trouble.
“You’ve been divorced for years now.”
“Yes.”
“This evening’s the first time I’ve seen you put that failure behind you. I’ve watched you chew on your bitterness like an old bone, digging it up and showing it off like a prized possession when it suited you. You’ve developed a cutting, sarcastic edge. That’s fine in the courtroom, but a detriment in your professional life as well as your private life. Especially if you’re interested in this senior partnership.”
“I’m interested,” Nash was quick to tell him, too quick perhaps because Stackhouse smiled. That happened so rarely it was worth noting.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Is there anything I could do to help my chances?” This conversation was unprecedented, something Nash had never believed possible.
The attorney hesitated and glanced toward the dance floor, frowning. “How serious are you about this young woman?”
Of all the things Nash had thought he might hear, this was the one he least expected. “Ah…” Nash was rarely at a loss for words, but right now he had no idea how to answer. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“I realize it’s presumptuous of me, and I do hope you’ll forgive me, but it might sway matters if you were to marry again.”
“Marry?” he repeated, as if the word was unfamiliar to him.
“It would show the committee that you’ve put the past behind you,” John continued, “and that you’re trying to build a more positive future.”
“I…see.”
“Naturally, there are no guarantees and I certainly wouldn’t suggest you consider marriage if you weren’t already thinking along those lines. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I noticed the way you were dancing with the young lady and it seemed to me you care deeply for her.”
“She’s special.”
The other man nodded. “Indeed she is. Would you mind terribly if I danced with her myself? I see no reason for Arnold to have all the fun.” Not waiting for Nash to respond, he stood and made his way across the dance floor to Savannah and his friend.
Nash watched as John Stackhouse tapped his fellow attorney on the shoulder and cut in. Savannah smiled as the second man claimed her.
Marry!
Nash rubbed his face. A few months earlier, the suggestion would have infuriated him. But a few months earlier, he hadn’t met Savannah.
Nor had he stood in a church, held hands with an incredible woman and repeated vows. Vows meant for his sister and the man she loved. Not him. Not Savannah. Yet these vows had come straight from his heart to hers. He hadn’t intended it to be that way. Not in the beginning. All he’d wanted to do was show Savannah how far he’d come. Repeating a few words seemed a small thing at the time.
But it wasn’t as simple as all that. Because everything had changed from that moment forward. He’d spoken in a haze, not fully comprehending the effect it was having on him. All he understood was that he was tired. Tired of being alone. Tired of pretending he didn’t need anyone else. Tired of playing a game in which he would always be the loser. Those vows he’d recited with Savannah had described the kind of marriage she believed in so strongly. It was an ideal, an uncommon thing, but for the first time in years he was willing to admit it was possible. A man and a woman could share this loving, mutually respectful partnership. Savannah had made it real to him the moment she’d repeated the vows herself.
Marry Savannah.
He waited for the revulsion to hit him the way it usually did when someone mentioned the word marriage. Nothing happened. Of course, that was perfectly logical. He’d spent time in a wedding shop, making a multitude of decisions that revolved around Susan’s wedding. He’d become immune
to the negative jolt the word always struck in him.
But he expected some adverse reaction. A twinge, a shiver of doubt. Something.
It didn’t come.
Marriage. He repeated it slowly in his mind. No, he’d never consider anything so drastic. Not for the sole reason of making senior partner. He’d worked hard. It was a natural progression; if he didn’t get the appointment now, he would later.
Marriage to Savannah. If there was ever a time the wine was talking, it was now.
* * *
Savannah had never experienced a night she’d enjoyed more. She’d danced and drunk champagne, then danced again. Every time she’d turned around, there was someone waiting to dance with her or fill her glass.
“Oh, Nash, I had the most incredible night of my life,” she said, leaning against the headrest in his car and closing her eyes. It was a mistake, because the world went on a crazy spin.
“That good, was it?”
“Yes, oh, yes. I hate to see it end.”
“Then why should it? Where would you like to go?”
“You’ll take me anywhere?”
“Name it.”
“The beach. I want to go to the beach.” She was making a fool of herself, but she didn’t care. She wanted to throw out her arms and sing. Where was a mountain-top when she needed one?
“Your wish is my command,” Nash said to her.
She slipped her hand around his upper arm and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s how I feel about tonight. It’s magical. I could ask for anything and somehow it would be given to me.”
“I believe it would.”
Excited now that her fantasy had become so real, she lowered the car window and let out a wild whoop of joy.
Nash laughed. “What was that for?”
“I’m so happy! I never dreamed I could dance like that. Did you see me? Did you see all the men who asked me?” She brought her hand to her chest. “Me. I always thought I couldn’t dance, and I did, and I owe it all to you.”
“I knew you could do it.”
“But how…”
“You can walk, can’t you?”
“Yes, but I assumed it was impossible to dance.” The champagne had affected her, but she welcomed the light-headedness it produced. “Oh, did you see Mr. Stackhouse? I thought I’d burst out laughing. I’m convinced he’s never done the twist in his life.” The memory made her giggle.
“I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Nash said and she heard the amusement in his voice. “Neither could Arnold Serle. Arnold said they’ve been friends for thirty-five years and he’s never seen John do anything like it, claimed he was just trying to outdo him. That’s when he leapt onto the dance floor, too, and the three of you started a conga line.”
“There’s magic to this night, isn’t there?”
“There must be,” he agreed.
Her leg should be aching, and would be soon, but she hadn’t felt even a twinge. Perhaps later, when adrenaline wasn’t pumping through her body and she was back on planet Earth, she’d experience the familiar discomfort. But it hadn’t happened yet.
“Your beach,” Nash announced, edging into the parking space at Alki Beach in West Seattle. A wide expanse of sandy shore stretched before them. Seattle’s lights glittered in the distance like decorations on a gaily lit Christmas tree. Gentle waves lapped the driftwood-strewn sand, and the scents of salt and seaweed hung in the air. “Make all your wishes this easy to fulfill, will you?”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. Her list was short, especially for a woman who, on this one night, was a princess in disguise.
“Any other easy requests?” Nash asked. He moved closer and draped his arm across her shoulders.
“A full moon would be nice.”
“Will a crescent-shaped one do, instead?”
“It’ll have to.”
“Perhaps I could find a way to take your mind off the moon,” Nash suggested, his voice low and oddly breathless.
“Oh?” Oh, please let him kiss me, Savannah pleaded. The night would be perfect if only Nash were to take her in his arms and kiss her….
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Kiss me, Nash. Please kiss me.”
His mouth came down on hers and she thought she was ready for his sensual invasion, since she’d yearned for it so badly. But nothing could have prepared her for the greed they felt for each other. She linked her arms around his neck and gave herself to his touch.
“Why is it,” Nash groaned, long minutes later as he breathed kisses across her cheeks, “that we seem to be forever kissing in a car?”
“I…don’t know.”
His lips toyed with hers. “You’re making this difficult.”
“I am.” Her effect on him made Savannah giddy. It made her feel strong, and for a woman who’d felt weak most of her life, this was a potent aphrodisiac.
“You’re so beautiful,” Nash whispered, just before he kissed her again.
“Tonight I’m invincible,” she murmured. Privately she wondered if Cinderella had spent time like this with her prince before rushing off and leaving him with a single glass slipper. She wondered if her counterpart had the opportunity to experience such unexpected pleasure.
Nash kissed her again and again, until a host of dizzying sensations accosted her from all sides. She broke away and buried her face in his chest in a desperate effort to clear her head.
“Savannah.” Taking her by the shoulders, he eased back. “Look at me.”
Blindly she obeyed him, running her tongue over lips that were swollen from the urgency of their kisses. “Touch me,” she pleaded, gazing at the desire in his eyes, the desire that was a reflection of her own.
Nash went still, his breathing labored. “I can’t…. We’re on a public beach.” He closed his eyes. “That does it,” he said forcefully, pulling away from her. “We’re going to do this right. We’re not teenagers anymore. I want to make love to you, Savannah, and I’m not willing to risk being interrupted by a policeman who’ll arrest me for taking indecent liberties.” He reached for the ignition and started the car. She saw how badly his hand shook.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
“Nash…”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“Kiss me first,” she said, not understanding his angry impatience. They had all night. She wouldn’t stop being a princess for hours yet.
“I have every intention of kissing you. A lot.”
“That sounds nice,” she whispered, and with a soft sigh pressed her head against his shoulder.
After several minutes of silence, she said, “I’m not always beautiful.” She felt she should remind him of that.
“I hate to argue with you, especially now,” he said, planting one last kiss on the corner of her mouth, “but I disagree.”
“I’m really not,” she insisted, although she thought it was very kind of him to disagree.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman in my life.”
“You do?” It was so nice of him to say such things, but it wasn’t necessary. Unexpected tears filled her eyes. “No one’s ever said things like that to me before.”
“Stupid fools.” They stopped at a red light and Nash reached for her and kissed her as if he longed to make up for a lifetime of rejection. Savannah brought her arms around his neck and sighed when he finally broke off the kiss.
“You’re not drunk, are you?” Nash demanded, turning a corner sharply. He shot a wary glance at her, as if this was a recent suspicion.
“No.” She was, just a little, but not enough to affect her judgment. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Right, but do you know what I intend on doing?”
“Yes, you’re taking me home so we can make love in your bed. You’d prefer that to being arrested for doing it publicly.”
“Smart girl.”
“
I’m not a girl!”
“Sorry, slip of the tongue. Trust me, I know exactly how much of a woman you are.”
“No, you don’t. You haven’t got a clue, Nash Davenport, but that’s all right because no one else does, either.” Herself included, but she didn’t say that.
Nash pulled into his driveway and was apparently going faster than he realized, because when he hit his brakes the car jerked to an abrupt stop. “The way I’ve been driving, it’s a miracle I didn’t get a ticket,” he mumbled as he leapt out of the car. He opened her door, and Savannah smiled lazily and lifted her arms to him.
“I don’t know if I can walk,” she said with a tired sigh. “I can dance, though, if anyone cares to ask.”
He scooped her effortlessly into his arms and carried her to his front porch. Savannah was curious to see his home, curious to learn everything she could about him. She wanted to remember every second of this incredible night.
It was a bit awkward getting the key in the lock and holding her at the same time, but Nash managed. He threw open the door and walked into the dark room. He hesitated, kicked the door closed and traipsed across the living room, not bothering to turn on the lights.
“Stop,” she insisted.
“For what? Savannah, you’re driving me crazy.”
Languishing in his arms, she arched back her head and kissed his cheek. “What a romantic thing to say.”
“Did you want something?” he asked impatiently.
“Oh, yes, I want to see your home. A person can find out a great deal about someone just by seeing the kind of furniture he buys. Little things, too, like his dishes. And books and music and art.” She gave a tiny shrug. “I’ve been curious about you from the start.”
“You want to know the pattern of my china?”
“Well, yes…”
“Can it wait until tomorrow? There are other things I’d rather be doing….”
Nash moved expertly down the darkened hallway to his room. Gently he placed her on the mattress and knelt over her. She smiled up at him. “Oh, Nash, you have a four-poster bed. But…tomorrow’s too late.”
“For what?”
“Us. This—being together—will only work for one night. Then the princess disappears and I go back to being a pumpkin.” She frowned. “Or do I mean scullery maid?” She giggled, deciding her fracturing of the fairy tale didn’t matter.
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