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From beneath her lashes, Cecile saw him approaching, though she pretended not to notice. Her breath caught in her throat as he neared.
“May I have this dance?”
His husky voice brought chills to the back of her neck, and she realized she had sprung to her feet before even verbalizing her acceptance.
Thank goodness the musicians played a waltz. Being held in his arms seemed like a dream; everything she’d fantasized about for the past few days was coming true. She peered over to where her girlfriends gathered, hoping they’d noticed. Meanwhile her mind spun, trying to think of something to say to him, but she decided not to spoil the moment by making idle conversation. She longed to rest her head on his wide shoulder and lean the length of her body against his but propriety held her back.
His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer, yet maintaining a proper space between them. The ripple of muscles beneath her hand and the masculine smell of his clean, cotton shirt stirred feelings new to her—her stomach clenched with excitement when she noticed her friends watching. If only time would stand still. But the song ended, and they stepped apart and applauded.
“Would you mind if we sat?” she asked, feeling a little giddy and unsteady on wobbly legs.