Girl Least Likely to Marry. Amy Andrews

God’s gift to women?

      He grinned as he held out his hand towards her. ‘What do you say, Cassiopeia? Fancy a dance?’

      Cassie stared at his hand. It was big, and she swore she could see waves of whatever the hell he was emitting undulating seductively from his palm. ‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t dance.’

      Tuck hadn’t got to where he was today by giving up at the first hurdle. He kept his hand where it was. ‘It’s not hard, darlin’,’ he murmured. ‘Just hang on and follow my lead.’

      Cassie swallowed. That was what she was afraid of. She had a very bad feeling she’d follow that intoxicating scent anywhere. She shook her head again and looked at him. A bad move as his cosmic gaze sucked her in closer to his orbit.

      ‘I’m a terrible dancer,’ she said. She dragged her gaze from him. ‘Isn’t that right, Gina?’

      Gina nodded. Cassie had no rhythm at all. ‘She speaks the truth. But…’ She looked at Tuck, then at Cassie. Her Antipodean friend looked as if she’d rather face a firing squad then dance with Tuck. Interesting. She’d never seen Cassie so ruffled and, bet or no bet, she wanted to see where this went.

      ‘I think every woman should dance with a star quarterback once in her life,’ Gina said.

      Tuck raised an eyebrow at her as Gina conceded the bet to him.

      ‘Ex,’ Cassie said. And when Gina looked at her enquiringly she clarified, ‘He’s an ex…quarterback.’

      Gina drummed her fingers on the table. ‘You know, it is customary at weddings for the bridesmaids to dance with the groomsmen,’ she pointed out.

      Gina had taken it upon herself to be Cassie’s social guru during the year they’d roomed together, and Cassie had learned a lot about social mores that no textbook could ever have taught her. But she was big on survival instincts, and Cassie was pretty sure staying away from Tuck was the smart thing to do.

      And she was very smart.

      Even if she was rapidly dropping IQ points every time she looked at him.

      ‘But this is the wedding-that-wasn’t,’ she pointed out, striving for the brisk logic she was known for. ‘We are the bridal-party-that-wasn’t. Surely that cancels out societal expectations?’

      Tuck waggled the fingers of his still outstretched hand at her. ‘I think it’s important to keep up appearances, though,’ he said. ‘These Park Avenue types are big on that.’

      Cassie looked away from the lure of those fingers at Gina, who nodded at her and said, ‘He’s right. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Reese, would you? It’s okay,’ she assured her. ‘Tuck looks like he knows what he’s doing.’

      Tuck grinned, but he didn’t take his eyes off Cassie. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

      Cassie glanced back at him, towering over her in all his intoxicating temptation. Maybe a dance would help. Maybe if she got the chance to sniff him a little this unnatural craving taking over her body, infecting her brain like a plague of boils, would be satisfied. That seemed logical.

      Cassie slipped her hand into his.

      And her cells roared to life.

      TWO

      By the time they got to the dance floor the last notes of Sweet Home Alabama had died out and the music had changed to a slow Righteous Brothers’ melody. All the couples that had been boogying energetically melted into each other and the singles left the floor. Cassie turned to go as well, but Tuck grabbed her hand and pulled her in close, grinning at her.

      ‘Where are you going, darlin’?’

      Cassie’s breath felt like thick fog in her throat. ‘I…can’t waltz.’

      She found it hard enough co-ordinating her hands and feet with some space between her and her dancing partners. She was going to do some damage to his feet for sure.

      And she did not trust herself too close to him.

      ‘Sure you can. Just hold on,’ he said, taking her resisting hands and placing them on his pecs, ‘and shuffle your feet a little. There ain’t no dance police here tonight.’

      Cassie didn’t hear his crack about dance police. Her palms were filled with hard firm muscle as the fabric seemed to melt away. The music melted away too—as did the people crowding around them.

      She couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of her hands on his chest.

      Tuck smiled to himself. ‘There you go—see.’ He took a step closer, his chin brushing the top of her head. He slipped his hands lightly onto her waist. There was definite curve there and he snuggled his palm into it. ‘I don’t bite.’

      Cassie fought through the fog, dragging her eyes away from how small her hands looked in comparison to his broadness. She looked up. Way up. He was tall. And close. A hand-width away, she guessed.

      Before tonight she would have been able to assess the distance accurately, but she simply couldn’t think straight at the moment. He was radiating heat and energy and those damn pheromones, totally scrambling her usual focus. His hands at her waist were burning a tract right down to her middle.

      He smiled at her, his starburst eyes showering their effervescence all over her. She looked down, but that was a mistake also as his chest filled her vision, the knot of his tie swaying hypnotically in front of her with every movement of his body. And all the time an insistent whisper played in her head, swarmed through her blood in time with the swing of him.

      Smell him, lick him, touch him.

      She dragged her gaze upwards, desperate to stop the pull of the hypnotic rhythm. It snagged on the slow, steady bound of his carotid, his growth of whiskers not able to conceal the thick thud of it. She wondered what he’d smell like there. What he’d taste like.

      Her nostrils flared. Her breath grew thick. She dug her fingers into the flat of his chest as she battled the urge to take a step closer.

      Dear God, she was growing dumber by the second.

      Shocked and dazed, she dragged her gaze down. Way down. Down to their feet. Down to the hole she wished would open up.

      Tuck also looked down, frowning at how rigid she felt in his arms. As if she was going to shatter at any moment. Or going to bolt at any second. No woman had ever been so reluctant to be in his company. Or so keen to be away from it.

      She could give a man a complex.

      One thing was for sure. She needed to relax or she was going to have a seizure. ‘So…Cassiopeia? That’s not a name you hear every day. Is that a family tradition?’

      Cassie looked up. His eyes flashed at her and she lost her breath for a moment. Were they closer? He seemed nearer. More potent. His chest was closer.

      ‘Cassie?’

      She blinked. What? Oh, yes. Talking. That was good. She was good at talking. Usually…

      ‘My mum…she named me. After the constellation.’ She paused. Did he even know what that was? ‘That’s a group of stars,’ she clarified.

      Tuck chuckled. This woman was going to give him a complex. Who’d have thought he’d be interested in such a little snob? The endearing thing was she seemed oblivious to it all. ‘Like the Zodiac?’ he enquired, purposefully broadening his accent again.

      Cassie gaped at him. How could she possibly want to lick the neck of a man with a pea-sized intellect?

      There was just no accounting for biology.

      ‘No, not like the Zodiac.’

      He feigned a frown. ‘Ain’t you into astrology?’

      ‘Astronomy,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘A-stron-omy.’

      ‘So,