Oh, yeah, he’d been hot before, but now, seeing him up close, with all that intensity focused solely on her…
Oh, mama! Every tiny cell in her bloodstream sprang to attention, doing the happy dance and pointing excited little fingers in his direction. Deep, sensual urges that had lain dormant for so long broke free of their slumber and demanded his attention.
Beth wobbled on her heels, tugged on the hem of her jacket, then wobbled again, the ache in her toes long forgotten as she contemplated that look, that smile, and more importantly, her reaction to them.
Damn. Lick-o-licious indeed!
Chapter Two
Gabe hooked his thumbs in his pants pockets and looked out over the guests. He enjoyed weddings—the public proclamation of love, the festive atmosphere, great food and good music… Well, the music could go either way. Fortunately, the local band hired for the wedding reception was doing a surprisingly good cover of The Beatles’ Twist and Shout. Several of the wedding guests were enthusiastically shaking it up, especially the groom’s uncle, Albert Montgomery.
A week ago, Albert presented to the ER during Gabe’s shift with a complaint of reoccurring chest pain. Gabe did a cardiac workup on him and admitted him for an overnight stay in the hospital for observation, with a cardiac stress test scheduled the following day. The next morning, Albert signed himself out against medical advice prior to having the test. Now he was doing his damnedest to impress his considerably younger girlfriend, and at fifty-nine and being moderately overweight, Albert was having a hell of a time doing it. A sad day, Gabe decided, when you found yourself paying less attention to the enticing gyrations of the blonde and more to the extremely diaphoretic, scarlet-faced idiot with her.
He watched Albert grunt and flail to the music. Although it had been a while since he’d done the Twist, Gabe didn’t recall the rather odd move with the left arm and shoulder as being a part of the dance.
Shit.
Gabe had learned the hard way what overlooking even the most subtle signs and symptoms could cost you. How by the time you stepped away from taking care of someone else’s loved one and realized what was going on with your own, it was too late. So he believed in being prepared, and the medical bag he kept stowed in the back of his CR-V was what he liked to call Standard Plus—the plus being anything else he could stuff into it that he might need.
He made a mental calculation of the distance between the reception area and his car, which he had parked at the house, and considered going to get it just in case, then decided against it. He could get there and back in less than two minutes if necessary. While he wasn’t particularly superstitious, there was no point in jinxing things by bringing it out now.
Gabe shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a fragile-looking chair with a huge white bow tied to the back. He dropped onto the chair, rolled his sleeves up, and stretched out his legs. The song ended and Gabe breathed a sigh of relief, but the band segued into a rousing rendition of The Stones’ Start Me Up, and Albert joined in for that one, too. Short of physically dragging Albert off the dance floor and attempting to pound some sense into his fool head, there wasn’t much Gabe could do except keep an eye on him and intervene should it become necessary. Keeping Albert in his peripheral vision, Gabe glanced out over the guests. The young photographer—a very early twenty-something, if that—ghosted through the crowd, capturing candid shots of wedding guests with the skill of a professional. He crouched for a shot, pivoted for another, all under the watchful eye of a possibly late twenty or early thirtyish brunette with a body that would, as the lead singer wailed, make a dead man come.
Gabe had witnessed the tender exchange between them earlier. The familiarity between them had been tangible, making him wonder just who the young man was, and what his relationship to the brunette might be. Was she a sister? A cousin? Friend? Lover? Then she’d glanced his way, caught him watching her and he’d thought, what the hell, no harm in looking.
And he’d liked everything he’d seen.
“There could be better ways to spend a Saturday afternoon, although off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single one. That’s one fine view you’ve got going on, my man.” Ian Montgomery, best man and brother to the groom, chose the chair one over from Gabe and carefully sat down on it, wincing when it gave an ominous groan of protest.