Page 5

Matthew Dayton doesn't intimidate me—he rattles me in ways no man has in years. Not just because he's dangerously perceptive and might expose my deception, but because he looks at me like he can see beneath my carefully constructed persona to the woman underneath. The one who reads Daddy Dom romances in secret and wonders what it would be like to surrender control, just once, to someone strong enough to handle it.

As if my thoughts have summoned him, Matt appears at my side.

"Mind if I cut in?" he asks Catherine.

She gives me a questioning look. I nod slightly, and she steps back with a smile that's equal parts encouraging and concerned.

"Be nice," she orders Matt before disappearing into the crowd.

Then his hand is on the small of my back, the heat of it burning through the fabric of my dress. His other hand takes mine, and suddenly we're dancing, my curves pressed against the solid wall of his chest as he guides me with confident precision.

"You are a good dancer," he observes, surprising me with what sounds like a genuine compliment.

"So are you," I reply. "Not what I expected from a storm chaser."

"My parents made us take cotillion," he says simply. "We all hated it, but the lessons have stuck with me."

He pulls me closer to him and I'm suddenly acutely aware of his hand on my back, how it spans almost half my waist, his thumb resting just at the curve where my hip flares out.

"So, Jackie," he says, his breath warm against my ear. "Who are you, really?"

"Exactly who I said.”

He laughs softly. "You're good. I'll give you that. But your eyes give you away."

"What do my eyes say exactly?"

His gaze softens slightly. "That you're more than Catherine's friend. More than an event planner. More than this role you're playing. You are hiding something, Jackie.”

For a terrifying moment, I think he's going to expose me, call me out in front of everyone. Instead, he spins me elegantly, then pulls me back against him, closer than before.

"You're not who you say you are, are you?" he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.

The question sends ice through my veins, even as his proximity floods me with heat. This is exactly the disaster I feared. Matt is a perceptive man who sees too much, asks too many questions, and won't be satisfied with charm and vague answers. But there's something else in his tone beneath the suspicion. Interest. Intrigue. Maybe even admiration for the game I'm playing.

"Everyone at weddings plays a part," I deflect, forcing a light tone. "The blushing bride, the proud parents, the charming best man. It's all theater, isn't it?"

"Nice pivot," he acknowledges with a subtle nod. "But I'm not talking about others. I'm talking about you. And why my brother's fiancée suddenly has a 'best friend' no one's ever heard of before."

The music shifts to something slower, giving him the perfect excuse to tighten his hold. With our bodies pressed this close, I'm acutely aware of the contrast between us; my soft curves against his hard planes, my rounded hips cradled against his narrow ones.

Most men I've danced with seem uncomfortable with my size, holding me at awkward distances or overcompensating with too-tight grips. Matt holds me like my curves are exactly what he expected, what he wants, his hands confident in their placement on my fuller figure.

"What exactly are you accusing me of?" I ask.

His dark eyes hold mine, searching. "I haven't decided yet. But I will figure it out."

The certainty in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. Part fear, part something far more dangerous. Because the truth is, part of me wants him to figure it out. To see me, truly see me, beyond the professional mask I wear so well.

"You're wasting your energy," I tell him. "I'm just here to support Catherine."

"Hmm." The sound is skeptical. "We'll see."

The music ends, but he doesn't release me immediately, holding me in place with that steady gaze and the warm pressure of his hand on my back.

"This weekend just got a lot more interesting," he says finally, stepping back with a slight incline of his head. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, sunshine. I'll be watching."

It's both a promise and a warning.