Free WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING by Debra Webb Page A

voice. “He’s always had a thing for you.” She put her hand over her lips. “Oops.”
    Cecelia cringed at the dark expression clouding Emmett’s eyes. “Heather, let me introduce you to my date, Mr. Holt.”
    He did a fine job pretending to enjoy the introduction, but Cecelia knew better. His gaze was cataloging faces and he was looking for ways to make a hasty exit.
    “Anyway, I’m so glad you came,” Heather effused.
    The music changed to a Latin beat and Emmett captured her hand. “Let’s dance,” he said, pushing their beer bottles toward Heather. She barely had time to wave a farewell to the younger woman as Emmett tugged her into the crowd of dancers.
    His hands molded to her hips; his touch burned with a hot purpose through the fabric of her slacks as he started to lead. She grinned and rested her hands lightly on his shoulders for balance. Already she realized this wasn’t a ballroom rendition of the salsa he had in mind, but something much more intense. Sexy.
    Something much more fun.
    Thank heaven the party guests were drinking heavily enough that they wouldn’t remember Mrs. Manning crashing the party and grinding it out with a stranger in public.
    She couldn’t help it. Blaming the adrenaline or just her eagerness to reclaim her life, she tossed her head back and laughed at the absurdity of it all. She had to play the part, didn’t she? Wasn’t this exactly what spies did in the field?
    When she met his gaze again, his half smile was full of a different kind of heat. A heat that made her want to take chances and explore their options, no matter who he was or how many interruptions they had to endure.
    For the past three weeks, he’d been charming her with clever, interesting emails and photographs of architecture and sailing—his two passions outside work, according to his profile. That had been enough to captivate her even before she’d realized his profile picture had been current—and incredibly accurate.
    The man was a walking—dancing—invitation to sin. Right now she should be insisting on finding a quiet corner and getting some real answers, but she couldn’t pull her head out of the sexy spell he was weaving around her.
    The logical part of her brain knew he was doing it on purpose. An applied technique for either protection or distraction, she wasn’t sure. Wasn’t even sure she wanted the answer just yet. Instead of being terrified by the near miss in the alley, she felt exhilarated. There was an energy Emmett drew out of her that she hadn’t felt in far too long.
    More than surviving, more than managing life, she realized she was really living again—for the moment.
    The revelation would have made her stumble, but Emmett was there. His hands guided her, brushed her body as they swiveled and rocked in time with the fast pulse of the music.
    He used his eyes to tell her they’d been followed, and turning her, she spotted a pair of burly men hovering at the sliding door that opened onto the wide deck. They must have come around from the dockside rather than the front door as she and Emmett had done. With their well-worn coats and rough clothing, they didn’t blend in with anyone other than the two men who’d attacked them in the alley.
    She did a slow turn to face him again, then leaned in close on the next forward step. “Plan?”
    “I’m thinking.”
    Step, sway, forward, back. Cecelia laid her palms on his. “We can’t let them start a fight here. People will get hurt.”
    “I know,” he growled.
    “They said they wanted me.”
    “Yes.”
    “Want to hand me over?”
    “No. Unless you know something I don’t.”
    She shook her head. “Kiss me.”
    “What?”
    Her idea was flimsy at best, but it was all they had. The bad guys wanted her. She could be bait, especially with Emmett ready to assist her.
    Her heart stumbled at the thoughts. Was she really ready to do this? Play bait...and kiss this man?
    “Kiss me when the dance ends. Make a scene out of it.”