When Honey Got Married Read Online Free PDF Page A

In this industry, that would be the kiss of death for your business. We’re supposed to send our couples off into their Happily Ever Afters, not destroy them.”
    “You’re a romantic.” He didn’t mean it as an insult. There was something very refreshing about it.
    That got him a smile. “Of course I am. That’s part of the reason I love this job.”
    “See, I’d think the reality of the planning and the bridezillas would kill off that romanticism.”
    An eyebrow went up. “Does the reality of slaving in a hot kitchen keep you from wanting to cook for people?”
    “No. I like watching people enjoy the food I make.”
    “That’s exactly how I feel.” Her face softened. “Weddings are fueled by love and are full of hope and optimism for the future. I can’t imagine ever getting immune to that feeling or losing the satisfaction of watching the couple’s first dance as husband and wife and knowing that I played a small role in making that beautiful moment for them.” She sighed before catching herself and blushed. “It’s sappy, I know.”
    He lifted his glass. “Well, here’s to those of us who get our kicks making other people happy.”
    “Indeed.” Grace tapped her glass gently against his and drained the last sip. She nodded at the empty plate and smiled. “That was delicious. And I really enjoyed it. Thank you.”
    “My pleasure. More wine?”
    She put a hand over her glass. “Oh, no. I’ve had more than enough. I’m starting to lose feeling in my extremities.”
    “At least your hand shouldn’t be bothering you now.”
    She looked down at the bandage and smiled. “Bonus.” Grace stood and took their plates to the kitchen, and an awkwardness replaced the earlier camaraderie. This was the point where he should either leave or suggest they take their wine to the couch. Grace had turned down another glass of wine, so the obvious option was to say good night.
    But he didn’t want to. When Grace returned, he could tell she’d realized the situation as well. But she didn’t say anything, so he hoped she was weighing similar thoughts. When she sighed and plastered a smile across her face, he knew they’d come to different decisions. Damn.
    “Well, thanks again—”
    “Dance with me.”
    “What?”
    He was asking himself the same question. God, I’m an idiot. But he’d said it already, so there was no sense trying to walk it back. “I asked you to dance.”
    Grace’s jaw actually fell open an inch in surprise, and she seemed to be searching for words. He pressed the advantage, reaching for her uninjured hand and pulling her gently toward the living room. “It’s why you asked me to the spring formal, right? To dance?”
    “Well, that was one reason,” she muttered, but she wasn’t fighting him, either, as he pulled her into his arms.
    “Then let’s dance.” The music wasn’t quite right for this, and he felt pretty damn foolish, but then Grace put a hand on his shoulder and stepped closer.
    Oh, there was still a good twelve inches of space between them, and Grace felt as stiff as a poker under his hands, but it could technically be called dancing. She kept her head down, her eyes focused on something past his left elbow, but she began to relax incrementally as they swayed until he was able to pull her body closer to his.
    The sensation was electric and comfortable at the same time. Grace fitted neatly against him like she belonged there, her head right under his chin so the brown curls could tickle his neck and fill his lungs with a light citrus scent. But he was fighting a storm of far more violent reactions that heated his skin and sent his blood rushing south. The temptation to cut this short, give in to that burning need , was nearly impossible to resist, and it wasn’t his usual nature to even try. But this situation was far from usual.
    The pressure against his zipper bordered on painful, but he merely wrapped Grace’s hand in his and pulled it close to his chest. His