“You kidding? Of course they do. Basketball, too.”
“Can’t help you there. I was too short for the basketball coach, but soccer, that’s what I was good at. Even played on my college team. Thought about going professional, but decided to serve a mission instead.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Canada.”
The talk drifted from one subject to another, with Colton constantly asking questions about her life, and then sharing a story from his own. They had a lot in common. He loved soccer, cookies, and Chinese food like she did, and he was really interested in the boys and in her extended family.
“So your husband didn’t have any family?” he asked as they were well into the second slow song.
“Not really. His parents died early, and he was never close to his siblings. They don’t live in Utah.”
“But you are close to yours, I take it?”
“Yes. My family’s great.”
He frowned briefly, but it was gone so quickly Mickelle thought she had imagined it.
It was then Mickelle noticed that they were much closer than they had been, so close their bodies brushed occasionally. She took a discrete step back, not wanting him to mistake her intentions.
What were her intentions?
She didn’t know, but she’d enjoyed herself thoroughly from the minute they’d met. He was funny, nice, and so good-looking. She admitted to herself that his appearance was the real reason she was attracted to him. Never in her life had such a beautiful man paid her this much attention.
Except Damon, of course. But Damon was handsome in a much more rugged sense, and his face had sharper planes. By contrast, Colton’s good looks were of fairy-tale proportions. Not to mention that there was none of the tension she had felt with Damon since the accident.
Colton pulled her closer again. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Mickelle,” he said in her ear. “I know that sounds like a line, but I don’t know how else to put it.” His breath was warm in her hair and smelled slightly of mint.
She didn’t know what to say except that she was flattered. Colton didn’t seem the type to pursue a commitment, especially with a woman like her—who was too flabby in certain places. Maybe this flowing black skirt and matching blue-and-black jacket became her more than she knew. Or maybe it was the lighting.
You’re crazy, she thought.
She had to admit there was something magical about the night. Her problems with Damon and his proposal were forgotten, and she had become the princess in a fairy tale. Tonight she would play make-believe; tomorrow, she would return to her life.
“Would you like a drink?” The music had increased in tempo, but Colton didn’t release her.
“Sure,” she replied breathlessly, though there was no reason to be winded.
With a hand under her elbow, he led her to the table covered with refreshments and poured her a drink. “Good punch,” he stated, his blue eyes never leaving hers.
Brenda broke in on them. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Mickelle?” Then to Colton, “I promise I’ll bring her right back.” She practically dragged Mickelle out the door and down the hallway near the bathrooms. “So, how’s it going?”
“Fine,” Mickelle said, faking nonchalance. “He’s a nice guy.”
Brenda appeared eager. “Any electricity?”
“Not that I noticed. I mean, he’s really good-looking. It’s hard to see beyond that.”
“Just watching him makes me breathless!” Brenda agreed, green eyes sparkling. “What does he say about kids?”
“Likes them, I think. He had some, but they died.”
“I heard that. There seems to be a mystery about the situation. He hasn’t told anyone the details.”
Mickelle was surprised. She thought that Brenda, with her finger on the pulse of church single life, would know. “It must be painful for him.”
“I think he really likes you.”
Mickelle shrugged, though she felt pleased.
“Why aren’t you more excited?” Brenda asked, arching one eyebrow. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that millionaire, does it?”
“No.” But even as she said it Mickelle knew that Damon was the reason she wasn’t enjoying herself fully. She kept expecting him to appear. She even felt guilty, as though she was going behind his back.
We’ve only dated five or six weeks, she rationalized. He doesn’t own me.
She didn’t owe him anything, either, except the truth, and she’d tried to give that to him yesterday.
“Oh, look! Here comes Colton!”
Colton emerged from the cultural hall, his head moving as though searching for someone. His eyes brightened when he spied Mickelle.
“He’s looking for you!” Brenda squealed in her ear. “You go, girl!”
Mickelle had already resigned herself to finding Colton dancing with some other lucky woman by the time she returned, and was surprised to have him come after her. She grinned at Brenda. “This Cinderella is going back to the ball.”
She danced with Colton for the next half hour, marveling at how well they seemed to get along. He was funny, gracious, and listened attentively when she spoke.
“This is really fun,” he said when they stopped for another drink. “Listen, would you excuse me a minute? I just saw someone I need to talk with. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.”
Mickelle knew he wouldn’t be back. Her Cinderella act was over, but she’d enjoyed every minute of her time with the good-looking prince. Even so, she turned down a man who asked her to dance. “I’m sorry, I’d love to, but I’m waiting for someone.”
To her surprise, Colton returned shortly, carrying a large vase of roses whose petals were a yellow so dark and lustrous they were almost the color of gold. “For you,” he said, offering them to her.
“They’re beautiful!” She breathed in the luscious fragrance. How could he possibly know how much she loved roses? In her curio cabinet at home she had roses made of everything from metal to wood. She even had a real rose dipped in twenty-four karat gold that Damon had given her shortly after their first kiss. She’d been so touched that he knew her well enough to find such a perfect gift—offered without strings.
Tears gathered in Mickelle’s eyes, both from the memory of Damon’s gift and this new offering from Colton. “How did you know how much I love roses?”
“It just felt right. They’re my favorite too.”
“But when . . . you didn’t have time . . .”
“I ordered them when you went with Brenda earlier. There’s this all-night place I know.”
Impulsively, Mickelle leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”
He grinned. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.”
“Hey, you two!” called Brenda, hurrying over to them. She buried her face in the roses and took a deep breath. “Wonderful! There must be three dozen here.” She glared teasingly at Colton. “Where’re mine?”
He laughed. “Oops, they haven’t delivered them yet.”
Brenda rolled her eyes. “Right. Good save, Colton.” She sighed. “Anyway, I just called home and my youngest daughter isn’t feeling well. I have to go home to be with her.”
“Is it bad?” Mickelle asked.
“No, but she needs her mommy. You know how it goes.”
“I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to this dance.”
“Oh, don’t be,” Brenda said flippantly. “See that guy over there?” Mickelle followed her gaze to a group of people talking near the refreshment table, including a dark-haired man Brenda had been dancing with earlier. “He asked me out for next week, and I really like him. He’s a banker. Responsible. Nice-looking, too—he’s got that distinguishing silver at the temple which I find irresistible. Who knows?”
“Well, I guess I have to be going,” Mickelle told Colton. “I came with Brenda.”
“I could take you home,” Colton offer
ed.
“I hate to impose.”
“I wouldn’t mind, really. That way we could dance some more.”
“Go ahead, stay,” Brenda urged. “There’s no reason for both of us to leave early.”
“All right, I will.”
For the next hour and a half, Mickelle alternately danced with Colton and talked with the other single adults. Many were divorced, others widowed like herself, and a few had never been married. Yet it seemed everyone present had baggage of some sort that set them apart from other families at church. For the first time in a long time she felt welcomed and appreciated—and understood—by an entire group of people.
Mickelle wondered where all her fears had gone. Each time she’d thought about Damon since the accident, she’d seen his death, but with Colton there was only life. How was she supposed to interpret that?
As the dance ended, her nervousness returned. What did she really know about Colton? He seemed well-known and popular in the single arena, but for all she knew, he could be an escaped convict. Her heart constricted, and for a moment she thought she was going to have a panic attack.
“Is something bothering you?” Colton asked. They were walking toward his low-slung sports car that glowed a brilliant white under the lights in the parking lot.
Mickelle breathed in the smell of the yellow roses in her arms. “Well . . .”
“Tell me. I’m easy.”
Mickelle wondered what that meant. “It’s just . . . I realized how little I really know you. I mean, no offense, but if a daughter of mine went to a dance—even a church dance—and came home alone with someone she’d never met before . . .”
Colton gave a low chuckle. Because of the dark, she could barely see the dimple in his cheek, but he was still gorgeous. “I see what you mean. Good thing you don’t have a daughter.”
Mickelle started. She had been thinking of Belle when she had spoken, but Colton was right; Belle wasn’t her daughter. “I’d like to, though,” she told him, without meaning to. “It was the one thing I really regretted with my . . .” She trailed off awkwardly, wishing she had kept quiet.
“I want a little girl, too,” Colton said softly. “I always have. There’s something special about little girls. I’ll bet any daughter of yours would be extra beautiful.”
Mickelle smiled but remained silent. She took a deep breath of the roses in her arms.
“Anyway,” Colton continued, taking her elbow. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”
“What?”
“Wait, you’ll see.” Colton released her arm, unlocked his car door with a beep from his pocket, and opened the passenger side door. After rummaging for a few minutes in the glove compartment, he came up with a small bottle which he offered to Mickelle.
“What is it?” she asked, shifting the vase of roses so that she could take the offering.
“Pepper spray.” The light overhead illuminated his face at just the right angle and she could see the endearing dimple again. Whew, he was so gorgeous!
“That way if I get out of hand—whoosh!” He made a spraying motion.
Mickelle laughed, feeling her immediate worries evaporate. He wouldn’t be giving her this if he was going to attack her. But she shook it just in case, to make sure it was full, and even tested the spray a little while he was occupied arranging the flowers in the backseat.
They arrived home shortly after ten, Mickelle having declined his offer to go out for hot chocolate and pie. She used the boys as an excuse, although the real reason was that she was nervous about being alone with him. If she wasn’t ready for a relationship with Damon, she certainly wasn’t ready for one with Colton, even if he looked like a prince. Besides, she might never see him after tonight.
He bought me roses! She couldn’t imagine him doing that if he didn’t plan on calling her. Or would he? Maybe he had money to burn like Damon.
Colton walked her to the door, and her heart thudded dully in her chest. Please don’t try to kiss me, she thought. If the idea of marrying Damon or being close to him sent her into a panic, how would she react to kissing a near stranger?
Balancing the heavy vase of flowers in one hand, she inserted her key quickly into the door and opened it. Keeping her voice bright, she said, “Goodbye, Colton. It was nice meeting you. Thank you for taking me home.”
“I enjoyed tonight.” His hand darted out and grabbed hers, holding her in place. Mickelle felt brief panic, and prepared to use the roses as a weapon, but he only planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “E-mail me a copy of the policy, and I’ll check up on that insurance business for you.” He pressed a business card into her hand before going back down the porch stairs.
“I will. Thank you,” Mickelle called after him. He waved in farewell as he opened his car door.
The boys were still up, watching television in the basement family room. Mickelle greeted them with hugs and sat down to watch with them for a moment. The room seemed oddly vacant, as though someone was missing.
“Anyone call?” she asked, thinking of Damon.
Bryan didn’t take his eyes from the TV. “Nope. No one called.”
What had she expected? Why should she feel depressed that Damon hadn’t called when she’d spent all evening with a very nice Prince Charming look-alike?
Later, after saying prayer with the boys and sending them to bed, Mickelle went to her room to remove her outfit. In her top drawer where she kept her pajamas, her fingers closed upon Damon’s diamond ring.
“His heart,” she said softly.
A vision of him lying lifeless on the cement near his pool shot through her mind. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded wildly. She sank to the bed, squeezing her eyes shut against the sight. He’d almost died! What if she had arrived too late?
She pulled her pillow over her head and cried.
When she awoke the next morning, Damon’s ring was still clutched in her hand.
Chapter Six
Early Monday morning Mickelle was up and dressed long before Damon arrived with Belle. She took extra care with her hair, telling herself it was not for Damon, but for her own esteem. Besides, even though she wasn’t going to marry him, they were still friends, and for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, she still wanted him to find her attractive.
Damon didn’t come into the house but paused on the porch, his eyes roaming appreciatively over Mickelle. “You look beautiful this morning. Is that a new color of eyeliner?”
She nodded, feeling both pleased and uncomfortable with the compliment. Riley had never complimented her unless he wanted something. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good. Brionney made me stay in bed almost the whole weekend. Great woman, your sister, but she can sure be bossy.”
“Well, with five kids it’s a matter of protection.”
“Yes, well, I appreciate her help.” For an instant, his amber eyes told her more than he was saying, how he wished she had been at the house instead of Brionney, and how much he wanted right then to take her in his arms. Then the fleeting look was gone and his face became rigid.
Mickelle averted her gaze.
“So how was your weekend?” he asked, his voice achingly polite. He stared at a place behind her, and she saw that he could see into the kitchen, where the golden roses Colton had given her sat in plain sight next to the sink.
Mickelle felt her face flush. She didn’t owe him an explanation for the roses. For all he knew, she had bought them herself—not that she would ever spend so much money on something so temporary. Now, if it were a rose she could keep in her curio cabinet, that would be a different story.
Her blush deepened as she recalled the golden rose Damon had given her. Of all her roses, she loved that the most, except perhaps for the wooden one Bryan had made her in school.
“That good, huh?” he asked dryly.
She blinked at him in confusion. “What?”
“I asked you how your weekend went and you turned, well, red. Are you all right?” His voice wa
s casual, but underneath she sensed something more.
“I’m fine,” she assured him with a touch of arrogance to keep him in his place. “I haven’t had a panic attack all weekend.”
“It must just be me, then.”
Mickelle regarded his familiar face thoughtfully. He had a point.
He glanced again into the kitchen, mouth parted as though to speak, then shook his head and turned to go down the stairs. “Better get to work. See you tonight.”
“See you.” Mickelle shut the door instead of watching his lean body saunter toward the dark blue Mercedes he customarily drove. She’d always loved watching him—but that was before he had almost died.
Behind the closed door, she pondered the cool politeness between them. It was the one result of her refusal that she hadn’t counted on. Perhaps she had grown too dependent upon his warm friendship. Would they be able to keep it alive? Or had their friendship died when she rejected the rest of what he offered? The thought cut her to the core.
Mickelle’s chest tightened with a familiar onslaught of panic. She walked quickly, almost blindly, to her room, where she sank to her bed and sprawled out with relief. Tears escaped from under her tightly closed lids until her face was wet. But she didn’t sob, and she didn’t feel like she was dying.
In only a few minutes, Mickelle was able to gain control of her emotions. She splashed her face with water in the bathroom and plodded to the kitchen where the boys and Belle were gathered at the small table, eating a generic bagged version of Froot Loops. Or rather, the boys were eating. Belle was stringing the round cereal on a piece of green yarn Mickelle recognized as coming from the odds-and-ends drawer.
“I’m making a necklace for my new friend,” Belle announced, dimpling with excitement.
“New friend?” Mickelle slid into the last vacant chair.
“Yes.” Belle bent back to her task. “We got a new girl in our class. Her name is Jennie Anne, and I’m going to be her assigned buddy.”
“When did all this happen?” Mickelle asked.
“Last week.”
“I didn’t see you with anybody new at recess,” Jeremy said. He was in the fourth grade at the school and Mickelle knew he liked to check up on Belle and his cousin Camille, who had the same first grade class. “Wasn’t Jennie Anne there yet?”
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