Stranger in my Arms Read Online Free PDF

mignon and chicken cordon bleu.
    Merrick lost count of the number of different wines poured for each serving as he alternated exchanging pleasantries with the two women flanking him while surreptitiously stealing glances at the woman who, despite his declaration that he wasn’t interested in her romantically, had ensnared him in an invisible web of curiosity.
    She was a Cole, a member of one of the wealthiest African-American families, if not the wealthiest, and was related to the groom. She hadn’t worn any rings and professed she didn’t date, and therefore he assumed her single.
    Had her declaration that she didn’t date mean that she wasn’t into men? A hint of a smile tipped the corners of his firm mouth.
    He would just have to ask her.
    Â 
    Throughout dinner Alex took surreptitious glances at the table to her right. There was something mysterious yet frightening about Merrick Grayslake. She wasn’t certain whether it was the timbre of his drawling voice that indicated that he had southern roots or that he hadn’t raised his voice to Donald; there was no mistaking the cold warning. And when he’d reached for Donald’s throat she’d thought for an instant that he was going to strangle the poor man.
    Staring at him through her lashes, she bit down on her lower lip, holding her breath. He’d caught her staring. The seconds stretched into a full minute. He acknowledged her interest with a barely perceptible nod. The corners of her mouth curved upward as her lips parted in an inviting smile.
    Merrick was hard-pressed not to return her smile, his silver-gray orbs darkening with an emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He’d lied to Alex and to himself. There was something about her that made him want to know her. Putting two fingers to his forehead, he gave her a mock salute. A lump formed in his throat when she went completely still, then turned away to say something to the man on her left. Her expression before she’d glanced away was one of demure innocence.
    Was she? he mused. No, she couldn’t be, he continued with his mental monologue. Pushing back from the table, he looped one leg over the opposite knee; he studied Alex with a curious intensity that was so foreign to him. She reminded him of a lump of coal that appeared cold until touched. At that moment he likened her to a dark fire.
    Alex had promised him one dance, and he hoped the single interaction would be enough to put his mind at ease as to why he felt drawn to his friend’s cousin.
    His attention was redirected to the bridal table where the best man offered a toast to the newlyweds. Flutes of champagne were hoisted over and over with the various toasts from a very pregnant maid of honor and the parents of the couple. Jolene and Michael cut the first slice of a four-tiered double-chocolate wedding cake decorated in white-chocolate curls and topped with marzipan roses and leaves. Individual wedding cakes in airtight containers and decorated with dark green satin ribbon were given to each guest.
    With the pomp and circumstance of the wedding behind them, the bride and groom left the tent for an area where a portable dance floor had been erected in an open meadow. A DJ, alternating with a five-piece band, was on board to provide nonstop music.
    The music was going full tilt when Merrick found himself standing off to the side watching couples twirling to a remix of Red Carpet’s “Alright,” a dance hit he’d first heard in a club in Amsterdam. He couldn’t take his eyes off Alex as she danced freestyle with Michael Kirkland, sans jacket and tie. Others on the dance floor moved back to watch their spectacular routine.
    Carefully coiffed curls fell over Alex’s forehead as Michael spun her around and around on her toes. Reaching for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, Merrick’s gaze never left the petite figure. Their dance ended in applause as Michael lifted