Her Improper Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  “Unless I miss my guess, the next to head the company will be a pair. A married pair.”

  Birdie stared at her grandmother. The cranky old witch, who could never seem to find anything right about Birdie from her speech to her posture, had a positively wicked gleam in her blue eyes. It unnerved Birdie that the look was as familiar as the one in her own mirror. “You mean Drew and Meilin? Possibly.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re an evil woman,” she told her grandmother.

  The woman’s laugh rang out in the church, enough to rise above the general murmur, enough that both Mom and Dad looked back over their shoulders.

  “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” This time she patted Birdie’s arm. It was less comforting than the pinch.

  “Well, we’ve got a long time to figure it all out.”

  “So the young always believe,” her grandmother said cryptically.

  “Not going to let you ruin this day, crazy woman. My brother just married a beautiful, wise, and loving woman. My parents are so happy they’re nearly stupid with it, and I am done with school. The sun is shining, the sages say this is a lucky day, and I’m going to enjoy it to the max.”

  “Never said you shouldn’t. And mind your manners. Respect your elders. We’ve been in your shoes. You should listen to us more than you do. And mind your language. We don’t want her family to think we’re baseborn.”

  “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

  This time the old woman slapped her shoulder. “Be good or I’ll sic Oswald and Larry on you.”

  Now there was a threat to make her shake in her Jimmy Choo’s. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Anything I can get you, ma’am?”

  “Just hush up, get me through that receiving line, and deliver me to the party.”

  Sounded like a good life motto to Birdie.

  Get me to the party.

  “Easy peasy lemon squeezy, Gran.”

  Something good to focus on for the coming year or two.

  Because it would be a party when she got to London. She’d make sure of it.

  Chapter 2

  Speaking of parties, Birdie had to give Meilin and her family props for the reception. Not far from the cathedral, limos dropped the family at the Saint Francis Hotel as the sun was beginning to lean toward the west with a few hours left to sunset. They’d been ushered into a ballroom filled with forty-three round tables set for ten each. The bridal party had a long table set on the other side of a parquet dance floor, behind them an incredible view of the city beyond filmy curtains. The room sparkled with crystal, candlelight, the guests, and particularly, the newlyweds. Not that they paid much attention to anyone other than the photographer and videographer.

  Which meant Martin and the wedding planner hired by the Wu family had the job of making sure things kept moving. Receiving line, first toast, various speeches, the buffet, and the cake cutting. Jack, Drew’s best man, kept the crowd in stitches with his speech. Dad nearly brought them to tears with his emotional acceptance of Meilin and her family as part of the Robinson family. Meilin’s father unbent enough to allow that he considered Drew a very good son-in-law, even if he wasn’t of Chinese descent. The crowd laughed, but Birdie didn’t think he’d been joking.

  Somewhere around her third or fourth glass of champagne, the after dinner dancing started. She’d had to swipe one of Dad’s spare handkerchiefs, for there was not a dry eye in the room. Anyone watching Drew and Meilin dance felt a touch of magic as the power of their love seemed to sweep across the room like a warm breeze. Or maybe it was the influence of the wine making her overly sentimental.

  A small prickle of awareness made the small hairs on the back of her neck rise. She’d piled her long blonde hair on top of her head with a small red clip Meilin had given her. Meilin had also chosen a dress for her, embroidered red Chinese silk, but styled as a simple sheath with a slit up the back, much like the dress Birdie had worn for her parents’ second wedding a year before. Western in style, but Chinese in material. It was a beautiful compromise that tied her into the wedding party. Mom’s dress was similar, but floor length and gold rather than red, to set off her red hair and make her stand out from the bridesmaids, while complementing the mother of the bride.

  The prickle grew stronger, and Birdie raised her champagne glass as a cover to search for the source of her intuition, or whatever. Something woo-woo in nature.

  Over the rim of her crystal flute, her gaze caught on the intense regard of Oswald. While the rest of the room watched the newlyweds, Ozzie’s eyes were on her.

  A wash of heat covered Birdie, and she tossed back the remains of her drink to hide what felt like ten shades of scarlet painting her skin. Her blush intensified when she recalled the twenty she’d slipped the DJ. The agreement was that if he saw Ozzie leading her to the dance floor, he was to put on Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train.” Sophomoric on her part, but it annoyed Ozzie, which was the entire point. Anything to get that stick unstuck from his uptight backside.

  She was saved by Drew coming to take her mother onto the dance floor while Meilin grabbed her father. Next up they’d swap parents, Drew dancing with her mother, while Meilin danced with his father. The plan was then for the newlyweds to dance with their grandparents and siblings. Then the dance floor would be opened to the masses. Birdie had time for another glass of bubbly. Another hand beat her to the bottle.

  “I think you’ve had enough for now,” Ozzie said in her ear, then took the seat beside her as he set the bottle out of her reach. No one else at the table seemed to notice Ozzie’s invasion. Indeed, he was so close to the family they all accepted him as one of them. Gran merely nodded at Ozzie, then turned her attention back to the dance floor. Drew would dance with her next. Something sedate enough she could follow with her new hip.

  “Not your call to make,” Birdie shot back, but let the bottle sit where he’d put it. For the time being. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be up at the table, or standing next to your bridesmaid waiting for your turn to dance.” Yep, the ushers and maids were lined up on the side of the dance floor in front of the head table.

  “My bridesmaid, as you say, has a boyfriend. Said boyfriend made it clear I’m not to dance with her. So, he’s relieved me of groomsman duties.” Ozzie lifted her so-far-untouched water glass and took a sip.

  “And the principal parties have no objection?”

  They both looked toward the dance floor. Nope, they weren’t seeing anyone else but each other.

  “Pictures have been taken.” Ozzie shrugged again and drained the rest of glass. “Warm day to be trussed up like a penguin.”

  “My water should have helped.” Too bad it would have been rude to pour it over his head. Maybe later, if he annoyed her.

  “It did, thanks.” The big grin he gave her was the one rarely seen. The panty-melter.

  “So, again, what are you doing here? Have you appointed yourself as my undesired babysitter?” She leaned forward and grasped the champagne bottle once more.

  Ozzie stared, but this time didn’t stop her from refilling her glass.

  “What do you want, Ozzie?” she asked at his continued silence.

  In a move that irritated her, he shrugged. “Seemed like a good place to sit and watch the proceedings.”

  “It is at that.” She smiled at Drew when he came to escort Gran onto the dance floor. Because Meilin didn’t have grandparents here, she tugged on Grandpa’s hand. He was only too happy to follow her and then showed off his superior dancing by whirling Meilin around the room as if they danced on an enchanted cloud. It was even more entertaining when Gran caught sight of them and put her nose up in the air.

  “So, what do you think, Ozzie? Planning on spending the evening dancing the night away?” She glanced toward the DJ until he caught her eye, then returned his nod.

  “I can dance well enough, I suppose, but it’s not my preferred entertainment.”

  �
��Oh? What would that be?”

  He never had the chance to answer. Drew interrupted after he passed Gran to Grandpa Dailey, then came to the table for Birdie.

  “Saved by the wedding traditions,” Birdie joked as her brother spun her onto the dance floor.

  “Saved from Oswald?” Drew grinned down at her.

  “No, you saved him from my inquisition.”

  “Think I’ll hand you off to him next. You may think I’m completely mesmerized by my bride, and you’d be right, but there’s no missing the sparks between you and the young Mr. Attenborough.”

  Birdie scoffed. “Oh, please. Drop that line of conversation right now. You and Meilin are off to a good start.” She nodded at the smiling faces whirling by. Mom and Dad, also in their own little world, not quite dirty dancing, but close enough.

  “We are.” Completely sure of himself, his grin was smug and proud at the same time. “It will be fun watching you and Oswald work things out.”

  Refusing to answer that redirect, she pinched his arm. “So, honeymoon in England? Why not somewhere more exotic?”

  “Meilin thinks the country house is exotic enough. She hasn’t had enough time to absorb all the history. We’ll also do the tour up through Scotland and across to Ireland. She has a client wanting a design based on Scots and Irish manor homes.”

  “Fun times. Work and a honeymoon at the same time.” Birdie shook her head.

  “Meilin loves antiquing, so now I love it too.”

  With a sad pout, she said, “Whipped already.”

  Drew threw back his head and laughed. “You’ll see.” He glanced over his shoulder. “About time to pass you off to Oswald.”

  “Not unless you want the next dance to be ‘Crazy Train.’”

  That got Drew’s attention. “What?”

  “I bribed the DJ to play that if I ended up dancing with Oswald.”

  Drew rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you to Dad.”

  “Or you can just drop me back at the table when the song ends.”

  “Not like you to sit out during dancing.” Still, he guided her in the direction she wanted to go.

  “I’m sure I’ll dance, once the obligatory nice dances are over. Later, when everyone is a little more lubed up on champagne, is when I’ll really let loose.”

  Without a reply other than the shaking of his golden head, Drew stopped by the family table, then bowed as the music faded out. “Enjoy yourself. I’m only dancing with my wife from here on out.”

  That’s what he thought. Birdie smiled and gave him a little wave as the maid of honor pulled him into a dance before he made it halfway to his bride. Much like she found herself being pulled onto the dance floor by Phillip, one of Drew’s friends from London, a moment later. By the time the set was nearly at the end, she was ready to slow down, or better yet, get off her feet long enough to have another glass of champagne.

  She’d just smiled at her last partner, one of Meilin’s many cousins, and turned to find her seat when a strong male hand took one of hers and spun her into his arms.

  Surprised, she looked up to see Oswald and his usual blank expression staring at her. “Really, Ozzie, I’m ready for a break—” He already had his right hand on her waist and her right hand captured in his left. Classic dance position of her grandfather’s generation, which oddly felt right, although when it came to slow dancing she was more used to linking her hands around her partner’s neck with both his arms around her waist. This time his touch, palm to palm, palm to waist, captured her breath while her body went into a wild form of shock. Almost like being Tasered, but instead of pain, the shock felt…erotic. Something she’d never once felt before, but oddly enough she recognized it.

  “And now,” the DJ interrupted her stunning revelation, “we’re going to slow things down with a special request. This one goes out to the couples from the bride and groom.”

  Expecting to hear Ozzy Osborne’s crazy laugh, Birdie glanced over her shoulder at the DJ as the opening strains of “Unchained Melody” began. The DJ shrugged and nodded toward Drew and Meilin who danced nearby. Both of them gave her wide grins. The dirty rats. They’d stolen her poke at Ozzie.

  The same man who now expertly led her into the slow dance, his body guiding hers as if they’d danced this way their entire lives. It thrilled her and unsettled her all at once as their gazes locked. For the first time she noticed his eyes were more a pale blue than gray, something his glasses had hidden until now. She’d never been this close to him before. The spin he navigated her through only brought their bodies closer until they were plastered together from knee to chest. A warm flush washed her from head to toe, and she tore her gaze from his, looking over his shoulder.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “Or do cats even bother with bird tongues?”

  Birdie concentrated on not looking at Ozzie. “No. I’m just a little winded from dancing.” She certainly was short of breath. And her mouth was dry. Both conditions she absolutely attributed to the previous vigorous fast dancing. Not the way he held her, like something delicate.

  * * * *

  Well, if Courtney didn’t want to talk, that was fine with Oswald. Although the distraction from the song would have been nice. Damn Drew and his idea of a joke. Since Oswald was pretty sure Courtney had asked the DJ to play something from Ozzy Osborne, the switch wasn’t exactly appreciated. Even something slow from the Brit rocker wouldn’t have been nearly as erotic as the Righteous Brothers.

  While Courtney stared over his shoulder, he studied the rosy flush that heated her entire body, most of which was pressed against him. In fact, as he spun her again, one of his legs nudged between hers, and he was fairly certain part of the blush came because she could feel his erection. His hand, on its very own, had traveled from her waist down to the very top curve of her beautiful backside. She was slender enough he could nearly wrap his arm completely around her, fitting her body to his like they were two puzzle pieces made for each other. The very thought of his piece fitting into hers, of course, only made him harder yet.

  He wanted nothing more than to take her mouth and waltz her away to his room for the night. Something that could never, ever happen. As she was the daughter of his boss, and he was essentially the hired help with only a tenuous claim to a somewhat noble bloodline, he’d never be good enough to kiss her toes. So instead, he breathed in her fresh scent of lemons and sunshine, and admired the rosy hue of her cheek, the mischief dancing in her incredibly blue eyes, and the graceful lines of her smooth neck decorated only by a long gold chain with a charm of some sort hanging from it. A tiny book with castle towers? A closer look would also allow him to better study the swell of her breasts, which looked to be perfect handfuls. Pulling his thoughts upward, like the spark in her eyes, the lights danced off the highlights of her naturally blonde hair, enhancing the aura of gold that surrounded Courtland Robinson’s precious princess. The slightly disheveled strands now hanging down in soft curls from the previously polished up-do lent an attractive smudge to her perfect image of an angel. An angel who would inspire the devil to lay her out on one of the tables covered in white linen and damn the audience.

  An angel he had no business thinking about in the carnal way currently trying to push more ideas into the forefront of his brain.

  Fortunately, or sadly, the song came to an end, and Courtney quickly separated from him.

  “Thank you for the dance,” she said stiffly, her many bracelets making a silvery sound as she dropped her arms.

  Unable to speak, he merely gave her a half-bow, then waved her ahead of him back toward the table assigned to Drew’s family. Who were somewhere on the other side of the dance floor as the music switched to something from the eighties. Neptune Satellites if he wasn’t mistaken. One of their least offensive rocker tunes. Probably a nod to the those who’d come of age in the eighties.

  As he stopped by the table, she kept walking in the direction of the door to the ballroom. The
gentle sway of her hips was enhanced by the slit up the back of her dress. He wanted nothing more than to follow her and lower the zip until the dress slid from her slender shoulders. Did she wear red lace beneath?

  “Come dance with me, Oswald.” A soft hand touched his arm, and he turned his attention to one of the bridesmaids. Ping? Yuahua? Junlei? No, Junlei was the one cuddling an infant at a table toward the back. He kept getting them mixed up, in part due to their matching dresses and hairstyles, and unfamiliar names, despite their very different personalities. Especially when he only wanted to think about Courtney. No other woman could break his focus on the one woman he wanted with a need so strong he could barely breathe. Meilin’s friends were bright and beautiful, but they weren’t Courtney and that wasn’t their fault.

  “Of course, my lady.” He gave her a smile and watched as her eyes widened. A gentle hand in the middle of her back was enough to guide her back to the dance floor.

  “Wow. You should do that more often.” The woman fanned her face, then took his hand and led him to the middle of the floor where Drew and Meilin danced in the center of their friends.

  “Do what?” He took control and guided her into a jitterbug that went well with the beat.

  “Smile.” She gave him a coy one. “Then again, if you smile, I’ll get bumped out of the way far too soon.”

  Oswald laughed. It was better this way. Let Meilin’s pretty friends pass him around and he wouldn’t have time to think of blonde hair and blue eyes.

  Chapter 3

  In the ladies’ room Birdie blew out a frustrated breath. As she’d left the ballroom Ozzie was already headed back onto the dance floor with Yuahua, one of Meilin’s closest friends. Just as well. Birdie was probably mistaken about what she thought she’d felt against her stomach as he’d pulled her close during the dance. Who knew those old music groups could be so sexy?

  A damp paper towel gently patted against her throat helped cool her down. The warm day and the closeness of the guests shoehorned into the ballroom made it hard to keep from sweating. Dancing only made it worse. Someone needed to turn up the AC in there.