The Secret Mistress Arrangement. Kimberly Lang

it, and Brian knew that a failure on his part to deliver would be a death sentence. Not that she’d needed to make that threat. Melanie was the center of Brian’s universe. Anyone could see that.

      Lucky Melanie. Guys like Brian weren’t exactly thick on the ground, though. She had a string of failures to prove it. Not that she was blameless, as Melanie reminded her all too often, but some people just weren’t designed to do the whole my-one-and-only-soul-mate thing.

      She was one of them. Bad genes, probably.

      Maybe it was exhaustion, or possibly that fifth glass of champagne, but either way, she was getting just a tiny bit maudlin. That had to explain this need to navel gaze in the middle of Melanie’s reception.

      Emotion plus champagne equaled weepiness, so she forced herself to concentrate simply on the success of the moment. She could obsess over everything else tomorrow. Once Mel and Brian said their goodbyes, she was going home and going to bed.

      Sleep. Sleep was all she needed to get everything back in perspective.

      As other couples joined the bride and groom on the dance floor, Ella felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Matt Jacobs standing behind her chair. He held out a hand to her.

      “Would you like to dance?”

      It took a second for his question to register. One eyebrow arched up in response to her silence and she swallowed her shock. “I’d love to.”

      Placing his hand at the small of her back, Matt steered her toward the dance floor, and every nerve ending jumped to full alert. Although she’d been too busy last night to pay much attention to him, her proximity to him today had made it impossible for her not to notice him.

      Melanie always described Matt as a cutie, but Ella decided he was really in the drop-dead-gorgeous category—particularly in his tuxedo. And he was huge. The cut of the tux just seemed to emphasize his wide chest, broad shoulders and lean waist. All day she’d felt like a midget just standing next to him—even in heels, she barely reached his shoulders—a feeling not helped by the constant fussing of the photographer as he tried to line them up for photos.

      Matt’s size had one benefit, though—he had no problem moving through the crowd. For once she didn’t feel as though she was trying to fight her way through blackberry bramble. Instead folks just magically seemed to move out of the way.

      As Matt pulled her into his arms to dance, Ella tilted her head back to look him in the eye. Chocolate. She’d read about men with chocolate-colored eyes, but she’d never met one who actually deserved the adjective. Ringed by lashes any girl would die for, those eyes had the power to turn her insides to mush. Mel’s “cutie” classification seemed a woeful understatement.

       When did it get so warm in here?

      They made small talk over the music, with Matt having to practically bend himself in half to get close enough to hear her. Each time he did, though, her pulse spiked.

      For such a big man, he moved with grace and ease. Ella’s experience with men who could actually dance was very limited, but here was one who could not only dance, but knew how to lead properly as well.

      “You keep surprising me, Matt.”

      “In good ways, I hope.”

      “Oh, definitely.” All day long he’d been Johnny-on-the-spot, graciously assisting Mrs. Chryston to a chair off the aisle when her enormous bulk wouldn’t squeeze into the antique pews of the church, or listening politely to Great-aunt Elaine’s long-winded story of Melanie’s first communion without correcting her when she called him by the wrong name. He even adeptly solved a minor crisis with the limo service before she could even get to the scene.

      He’d certainly done his duty as best man—and then some. She owed him big-time. She also owed him an apology. She cringed as she remembered the horrible way she’d talked to him the night before.

      She tried to keep her voice light. “I want to apologize for the way I acted last night…and today. I’ve been kind of stressed the past few days, and I’ve been a bit, um, snappish with people.”

      Matt cocked that eyebrow at her again and teased, “Is that what you call it? Snappish?”

      “In polite society that’s what I’m calling it.” Grateful he wasn’t going to hold a grudge, she relaxed into the conversation. “I know what the groomsmen are calling it when they think I’m out of earshot.”

      “You heard that?”

      “Uh-huh. Feel free to let them know that I don’t consider ‘control freak’ to be an insult.”

      “What about your ‘hair-trigger temper’?”

      “If they’d act like adults, they wouldn’t have to worry about my temper.”

      He laughed, and the deep rumble moved through her veins like strong coffee—warm and comfortable with enough of a kick to make her blood pump. “You certainly have them running in fear.”

      “Well, for the most part, they deserve it. Particularly that Jason.” Her mouth twisted before she could stop it. “I know he’s a good friend of yours, but I swear that boy is completely useless.” She looked over to the bar where Jason had permanently stationed himself for the night and was currently chatting up one of the other bridesmaids.

      Matt’s gaze followed hers and he shrugged. “That much I’ll give you. He’s a nice guy, though. Worthless, but basically harmless.”

      “If you say so. I really expected Brian to have a more mature group of friends—present company excepted, of course.” He nodded at the backhanded compliment, and she continued with a smile. “But I am sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it.” For some reason she couldn’t explain, it was important he realize she wasn’t normally a shrew.

      “Apology accepted, but it’s not really needed. Brian’s raved about how you really went above and beyond.” He paused before looking at her questioningly. “Why?”

      That caught her off guard. “Why what?”

      “Why were you running the wedding? It seems strange that Melanie would put all the work on you when she could have easily hired a professional to do it.”

      “Best-friend duty, you know.” At his skeptical look, she searched for the right words. “I want Mel to be happy. Whatever she wants, I want her to have. She wanted this wedding to be perfect, so I was determined to do whatever I had to in order to make it perfect for her. And she’s having a good time, so I’m happy.”

      “And you? Are you having a good time?” Matt’s thumb stroked lightly over the skin of her back exposed by the deep halter cut of the dress, and Ella couldn’t concentrate on the conversation. Every nerve in her skin seemed alive and attuned to him. God, he even smells good. Not in an I-bathed-in-my-aftershave kind of way, but a clean, slightly spicy and very masculine way. Each time she inhaled, the scent of him coiled through her and set her pulse to pounding.

      She swallowed hard, trying to pull her concentration back to the conversation and away from the totally inappropriate thoughts whirling through her. “Of course. It’s really been a beautiful wedding. I’ll tell you though, as soon as Mel and Brian leave, I’m headed home to crash. I haven’t had much sleep lately.”

      “I understand. I was out late last night myself. You know, strippers and hookers and such.” He winked at her.

      “I don’t care, and I really don’t want to know,” she reminded him with a laugh. The music ended, and the bandleader announced the garter and bouquet toss. As Matt led her off the dance floor, she remembered something.

      “Brian said that you’re staying at his place while you’re in town.” At his nod, she continued. “I have some wedding presents at our apartment that I need to drop off. Would tomorrow afternoon be okay? I have a key, but I don’t want to barge in on you, so I’ll